Characters: Bucky, reader, Rachel (ofc), Wanda, Tony Stark (mentioned) and a special guest. :D

Summary: When a friend calls you in distress, you request Bucky's expertise again to solve the problem. What you didn't expect was to find a part of Bucky's past to resurface and disrupt the life you'd built together. Can your relationship and foundation of trust hold up against this new challenge? And what does the future hold for you and Bucky? (art thief!Bucky AU)

Warnings: none, really. Tiny bit of angst and smidge of sexytimes. ;)

Word Count: 8.6k

Author's Note: I'm baaaaack!! Kinda. Ha! I've been working on some fics here and there but time and motivations are strange, untameable beasts. I'm so excited to share this new chapter! Please let me know your thoughts. I've missed you all. Thank you for your support and patience. :)

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 ~I need your help, Y/N.~

~I'm sorry, I didn't know where else to turn.~

~Please call as soon as you can.~

The first thing you saw upon checking your phone midway through your workday was a short string of texts from a friend that had you worried. Checking the time, you gave notice to your assistant that you'd be in the office, walked inside, and locked the door.

That evening as you stepped out of a cab and up the steps to your New York brownstone's front door, nervous flutters grew in your stomach. Hanging up your coat, you caught smells and sounds coming from the kitchen along with idle whistling, which made you smile even now. Those flutters were still frequent under normal circumstances now that you got to come home to James Buchanan Barnes, reformed art thief.

Well. Mostly reformed.

Following the sounds, you spotted him standing at the stovetop with his back to you, wearing those perfectly fitted trousers you loved and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow. Swoon. He hadn't heard you yet so you allowed yourself to linger in the doorway, enjoying the view. You loved to watch him moved about the kitchen, drying his hands and throwing a dish towel over his shoulder. He spotted you then and you stepped forward, meeting him half way.

"Hey, gorgeous," Bucky grinned, pressing a kiss to your lips with an arm wrapped around your waist. The other hand still held a spatula.

"Hi," you replied, returning the smile.

"Dinner's about ready. Do you want to grab some glasses and pour the wine?" he asked, turning back to the stove.

"Sure."

As you poured the wine and took a sip, Bucky dished out what looked like an amazing pasta dish, even adding a sprig of parsley for garnish. Your boyfriend had grown to enjoy cooking over the past year and you were the lucky taste tester. Setting the dishes on the dining table, Bucky pulled out your chair and you slipped into it, offering the second wine glass to him as he settled in the seat across from you.

"Cheers, my love," Bucky declared, clinking his glass against yours before taking a sip.

"Mm. This looks incredible, Bucky. Thank you for dinner," you said, reaching over to give his hand an affectionate squeeze.

"Of course. I tried something new so I hope it turned out," his lips tugged nervously as you both picked up your forks. "So, how was your day?"

Giving yourself a moment, you took a bite and savored it. Moaning in pleasure, you gave Bucky a nod and swallowed. "Wow. Well done, handsome. So good. Today was, um...work was fine. I did get a strange text from a friend, though," you began, taking another bite.

Brow furrowed, Bucky reached for his wine. "Oh? Strange how?"

You shifted in your chair, twirling a forkful of pasta. "You remember my friend Wanda?"

"Sure," he nodded. "Personal art shopper for..."

"...Mr. Stark. That's right. She's been curating his collection for years and..."

You paused, reconsidering your tactic in conversation but Bucky noticed your hesitation.

He set down his fork and reached for your hand. "What? What is it?"

Sighing, you brushed your thumb across his knuckles and met Bucky's eye. "Um...first, I wanted to ask how your day was."

Bucky frowned, then lifting a shoulder. "My day was fine. We received a new painting for restoration at the museum, so that was exciting. I had a new group of high school art students come in for a tour and that went well. All around...pretty good day. Why? What's this about, Y/N?"

"I just..." you began, choosing your words carefully. "I want you to know how much I appreciate how hard you've worked the past year and...I know it can't be easy making those changes. So, if you're tempted or slip up, I understand, I mean you're only human and I just need you to tell me because—"

"Wait, wait, wait," Bucky interrupted, raising both hands in surrender. On the inside of his left forearm you could still see the parallel scars from a heist gone wrong years ago. "What are you asking? You think I've been thieving behind your back? Cause I've been clean this whole year, except for those few you knew about."

You nodded, the flutters turning into more of a knot in your stomach. "I know. It's noble work, returning art stolen during World War II and I'm in full support of you, I want you to know that. I just wonder if...maybe the museum isn't enough. If something caught your eye, I get it. I just need you to be upfront about it because there could be repercussions."

Bucky let out a dry laugh, leaning back in his chair. "I'm confused. Are you accusing me of something? Cause if so, I'd love to know what. I've been completely honest with you, Y/N. I promised you I would be, but it sounds like you're doubting me."

"No, it's not doubt, I just..." you reached for his hand again, holding yours open on the table until he relented and grasped it.

He huffed out a frustrated sigh. "What's this about then?"

You rubbed a hand across your neck and then braced yourself against the table with your elbow. "A few pieces from Mr. Stark's collection were stolen last night."

Bucky's eyes grew wide. "What? How?"

"That's the billion dollar question. And the reason I asked how you've been feeling about the past year is that the heist was almost identical to your signature, Bucky."

His nostrils flared in anger. "Great. Not only am I being accused of something, I now have a copycat."

"Bucky, I'm sorry, I just needed to clear the air so there was no confusion."

"I know, I don't blame you, I just..." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes before opening them to level you with a genuine gaze. "Y/N, I promise you...I did not do any sort of heist last night. I really was working late on the upcoming exhibit and I won't be hurt if you check with my co-workers."

You nodded, exhaling in relief with a smile.

Bucky tugged on your hand raising you to standing before he slid back his chair and brought you to take a seat on his lap. "And...I want you to know that there's nothing worth stealing that would make me want to compromise what we have. You're more priceless than any artwork in the world to me."

Rolling your eyes a bit at the cheesy analogy, you still smiled and pressed a kiss to Bucky's lips. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled back, pressing his forehead to yours.

"Okay. I trust you."

"Good," he said with another kiss. "So...she called you about this? Not the police? Why?"

"Well, she feels responsible. Wanda was changing out the older pieces for new and somehow during her journey from the freight elevator in the building and the furthest corner of the penthouse, the paintings on the wall were stolen out of their frames. Three of them. She saw no one or any signs of break-in and the surveillance cameras glitched or something. If the thieves aren't apprehended, it'll fall on her."

"Damn."

"Yeah. Also, she knew I'd had a similar issue in the past," you admitted glaring his way.

You got a smirk in return, then confusion. "Wait. You told her about how I—"

"No. She doesn't know it was you, but after that first New Year's, I might have told her in confidence that someone got through my security and I was able to resolve it myself."

Bucky chuckled. "Yeah. 'Resolved' it with me handcuffed to the bed."

Wiggling your eyebrows, you grinned. "Exactly. So she thought to call me. Obviously it wasn't you, so now we need to know who it was. Which means..." you trailed off with knowing eyes.

"What?"

"I need you to figure out how you would do it so we can know how it was done. She'll have to be in on your secret past, though," you said, running your fingers through Bucky's dark brown strands.

"Hmmm," he considered, cocking an eyebrow. "For someone who doesn't want me to do any more heists, it sounds like you want me to plan a heist, my darling."

You laughed, bringing out a bright, white smile on his handsome face. "Yeah. I guess so. I wouldn't ask if it weren't an emergency, though."

Bucky sighed, resting his chin on your shoulder, lost in thought a moment. "Okay. I'll do it. How long do we have?"

Squealing in gratitude, you hugged Bucky tightly with a dozen kisses all over his chiseled jaw before one more on the lips. "Thank you, my love. Mr. Stark will be back in town in three days."

"Shit. Okay. We better get to it then," Bucky replied, lifting you to your feet and then standing himself.

"What, right now? I mean, we can go see the space tomorrow morning, I'll set it up with Wanda but there's not much we can do tonight."

"Would it help if I had blueprints to Stark Tower that we could look over tonight?" Bucky asked, coyly.

You shook your head in disbelief. "That fact should probably worry me, but instead I'll view it as a head start. But seriously, thank you," you said, more somberly.

"Don't thank me yet. Besides, if we don't catch the thief, then this might actually fall to me, so..."

Eyes wide, you let that settle in. "You're right. Shit. Okay, tonight it is."

Bucky surprised you by whirling you around the kitchen in an impromptu dance, hands clasped with an arm around your waist leaving you laughing and breathless as you headed for the living room to plan.

__________________

Wanda met you at the elevators the next morning, her smile genuine with a hug in greeting, but there was a tightness of stress around her eyes. Letting go of her embrace, you stepped back to introduce Bucky.

"Wanda, this is Bucky Barnes, art enthusiast and consultant. Bucky, this is one of my best friends, Wanda."

Bucky stepped forward, offering his hand. "It's nice to meet you, Wanda."

"Likewise," Wanda said with a smile, briefly grasping his hand in hers. "Shall we?"

Stepping into the elevators, Wanda used a gold keycard to slip into a slot above the row of numbers before pressing the button marked with the letter "P". The three of you ascended in silence a few moments before Wanda spoke up.

"I appreciate you both being willing to consult on this purchase. Mr. Stark is quite particular in his art tastes."

You caught on. "Of course. We're happy to be of assistance."

A few more seconds and the elevator came to a stop, the doors opening with a chime before she led you down a hallway and into what must be her office before closing the door. Wanda finally exhaled, peeking through the closed blinds before speaking.

"I'm sorry about the covert speak, but I've never been in this position before. I didn't know what to do," Wanda said, wringing her hands with a trembling lip.

"Hey, it's going to be fine," you assured her, stepping forward to place a hand on hers. "We'll work this out. Just tell us what happened."

The pretty brunette exhaled before signing into her computer and pulling up surveillance footage. It showed Wanda herself loading two paintings into protective boxes and onto a dolly before she wheeled them out of the frame. You watched as everything appeared normal until a few minutes later the image glitched and the paintings were suddenly just empty frames.

"What the..." you trailed off, baffled.

"Hold on, rewind that," Bucky requested.

Wanda complied, returning the recording to where she was just leaving the frame.

"There!" he exclaimed, pointing to the time clock on the bottom right corner. "The time jumped back to ten minutes previous before replaying the same image. The thief looped the cameras with just enough time to remove the paintings, which is not an easy task. Not bad," Bucky muttered, sounding almost impressed.

You nudged him with your elbow and he looked sheepish.

"How did you catch that?" Wanda asked, reviewing the footage once again.

Catching Bucky's eye, he shrugged and you relented. "Because he's done something similar. Bucky was an art thief in a former life," you admitted, awaiting her reaction.

She stood up from her bent position over her desk and wheeled toward you in shock. "What? Did you—"

"No, I didn't!" Bucky quickly explained, hands raised defensively. "I promise you. But...Y/N recognized my signature and she questioned me about this heist, too. I don't blame her or you, but I assure you, I had nothing to do with this."

Feeling grateful and proud, you slipped an arm around his waist and gave Bucky a squeeze. He returned the gesture.

"He can help because of his past," you confirmed. "I figured, if the thief's signature is similar to Bucky's then he can figure out how they did it. We can catch them and get you off the hook."

Bucky nodded. "I'll do everything I can to help. I won't promise the paintings themselves will be returned since they can be fenced within hours, but I'll try. I never really thought about the people who were impacted by my past actions. I mean, someone had to be punished, but it didn't occur to me. Or maybe I just wouldn't let myself consider it. If I can rectify that in some way, then I will. I'm so sorry," he spoke sincerely, meeting Wanda's eye.

She blinked repeatedly, eyes glassy with moisture, but she nodded. "Okay."

"It was Y/N, actually, who made me realize there was a price to be paid other than the cost of stolen artwork," he said, glancing your way.

You grinned, raising an eyebrow. "Well, someone had to set you straight."

Wanda looked confused, eyes flitting between you. "How did you meet again?"

Laughing at the memory, you explained. "Remember that diamond that I had to personally recover? He stole it," you said, tilting your head toward Bucky.

Bucky grimaced with a nod.

Eyes wide, Wanda gasped. "You... he what?"

"It's a much longer story, but just trust me. He's the man you want in this situation."

Bucky couldn't help but grin at your vote of confidence as you glared back playfully.

"Well...I guess I'll take your word for it," Wanda said in an exhale, locking her computer before leading the pair of you out of the office and toward the scene of the crime.

__________________

Watching Bucky "do his thing" was...interesting. You and Wanda spent a good ten minutes just standing off to the side while the love your life stood in front of the three empty frames for a moment before taking three steps to the left and stare again. He even crouched across the room for a few minutes. Um. Okay? Whatever it takes?

"Is this normal behavior?" Wanda whispered.

You wanted to be supportive. "Yeah. Maybe," you said, before cracking a smile and she did the same.

It was startling when Bucky suddenly clapped this hands once with a grin of triumph on his face.

"I've got it!" he exclaimed.

Relieved and curious, you approached Bucky with Wanda at your side.

"But first...how often is this room cleaned, Wanda?"

Her nose scrunched a moment in thought. "Um...twice a week? Last time would have been two or three days ago. Next is scheduled for tomorrow."

Something she said confirmed Bucky's theory, a firm nod of his head being a good sign. "Okay. So, we've confirmed that none of the furniture was moved or dragged. At least there aren't any signs on the hardwood floors."

All you could do was nod, knowing he was basically talking himself through it with no need for outside input. Bucky continued.

"You were only gone about ten minutes so it had to be someone quick and efficient. They left the frames and cut out the paintings for portability..."

Bucky was on the move again, walking along the wall away from the missing paintings and staring at a specific spot. His gaze then shifted to a side table next to a comfy looking couch. Lastly, he looked up at the ceiling above with a grin stretching across his handsome face.

"Okay," he muttered, removing his shoes.

"Uh," you said, startled. "What's happening?"

He turned at your voice, seeing you and returning to the present, perhaps. "Come here," he beckoned with a curl of his finger and you approached. "You see this gap in the dust on the edge of the side table?" he pointed out.

You nodded, still confused but awaiting further explanation.

"And here on this wainscoting along the wall directly across the way. A small scuff from a shoe," he said with a grin.

He pointed to a spot on the decorative wooden molding about an inch thick and three inches wide that was halfway up the wall.

"Okay?" you replied and glanced at Wanda, equally confused.

"Stand back," Bucky requested, pulling a pair of latex gloves from his pocket and putting them on. Where did he get those?

Placing one stockinged foot on the edge of the table, he then pushed off, using the momentum to place the other foot on the painted molding about four feet away and steadying himself with a hand on the wall.

"Oh my god, what are you doing?" Wanda shrieked in surprise and horror.

"What you've asked me to do," he replied calmly, reaching up to the ceiling with one hand and moving a ceiling panel out of the way. "This is how they got in and out," Bucky declared.

Shifting his weight to reach the ceiling with both hands, the table legs scraped an inch along the expensive, hardwood floor.

"Oops," he grimaced. "So they had to be more slight than I am."

Finding a good hand placement, Bucky bent his knees slightly and pulled himself up into the gap in the ceiling in one swift movement. His legs still dangled, which was quite comical, but you were more worried about his safety.

"Shit," he muttered from the ceiling, causing you alarm.

"Are you okay? Can I help you—" you stepped forward, almost in reach when he lithely lowered himself down by his hands and dropped to the floor in a crouch.

His movements were quite cat-like, you noticed. Made sense, considering his past experience.

"What is it?" you asked, taking in his serious expression.

Bucky sighed, holding out a single strand of red hair. "I know who the thief is."

_____________________

Bucky threw open the door of yet another cafe—the fifth within the past hour—and stepped inside, his gaze scrutinizing the face of every patron. He reached for you, about to turn and walk out without a word yet again when suddenly, his eyes snagged on a lone figure seated in the far right corner– an older woman sipping on a steaming beverage. A grin slowly stretched across Bucky's handsome face as he strode forward with purpose. You followed, utterly confused.

As he approached the older woman's table, Bucky stuck a hand in his long overcoat and retrieved a small plastic bag. He tossed it on the wooden surface, startling the woman, and she looked up in surprise.

"You're getting careless in your old age," your boyfriend declared with a grin.

You stopped beside him at the table, eyes flickering between the two of them.

Clearing her throat, the woman reached for the small bag and lifted it to the light, the single strand of red hair inside barely visible. One corner of her mouth lifted in a surprisingly youthful smirk.

"Yes, well, we can't all be as flawless as you, Barnes," she replied in a husky voice. She lifted a hand to her temple and within a split second her face almost pixelated and flickered, her previously wrinkled skin gone to now show a much younger complexion.

You blinked in awe and confusion.

"How did you find me?" she asked, straightening her spine from the deceptive hunch she had clearly been faking.

Bucky shrugged, glancing around the quaint cafe. "I remembered your old haunts. Good to see you, Natasha."

"You, too, Barnes. It's been a while," Natasha grinned, her focus now sliding over to you. Her gaze was intense. You were suddenly feeling scrutinized and judged under it's weight.

"Natasha, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, this is Natasha. An...old friend," he shared, hesitating with that last statement.

"Hello," you greeted with a smile.

The alleged thief said nothing for a moment, turning back to her coffee. When she did speak, it was...not in English. Your eyes widened in confusion. Her words sounded Eastern European...maybe Russian?

Your jaw dropped when the man you'd lived with for over a year also replied in the same language, his tone less melodic than hers and more stern. Reprimanding.

"Let's stick to English for now," Bucky finally said. "We need to talk about your most recent job. You're invited to dinner tonight. Address is on the back. 7:30."

He dropped a business card on the table.

"See you then," he said, grasping your hand and pulling your dazed self out of the cafe.

Bucky walked the two of you to the next block before he stuck a hand out, intending to hail a cab. Finally, your mind caught up and voice returned, yanking your hand out of his grasp.

"Wait a minute...what the hell, Bucky? Since when do you speak Russian? Who is she and how do you know her? What was that on her face and.....and...what is happening right now?" you yelled, angry and confused.

Bucky stepped toward you, placing his hands on your upper arms and giving them a squeeze for comfort and grounding. He sighed, weariness etched in his features.

"I'm sorry. I know this is a lot to handle. I promise I'll explain everything, but let's get home first, okay?"

His hands raised to lightly cup your face, thumbs caressing just under your jaw. He waited for you to meet his eyes, the same stunning blue color you swore had never been properly painted, even by the masters.

"I love you," he declared with a smile.

Some of the tension inside you released, your shoulders dropping slightly at those words you still never tired of. You nodded, pulling his hands from your face to hold them against your chest. Bucky leaned in, pressing a soft, meaningful kiss to your lips and then pulling away to touch his forehead to yours for a moment.

"Okay."

Another raise of his hand later, a yellow taxi screeched to a halt at the curb and Bucky opened the door for you.

__________________

"I met Natasha on a job about ten years ago," Bucky said from his position in front of the stove.

You were seated at the dining room table, very much in need of a glass of wine for this conversation. Bucky had poured the dark red liquid for you and started making dinner so you could relax. It had been a trying day. And it was far from over.

"We were casing the same location. I kept seeing her around the same areas and as good as she is at what she does, she is otherwise less than subtle. She cornered me one day and basically threatened me, demanding to know why I was following her. I told her I wasn't, but didn't have a better explanation. I finally admitted that it was a job and she confessed, too. Reluctantly, we agreed to work together rather than fight for it. Some jobs are better with two people."

You nodded slowly, taking a sip as he continued.

"After that, we would work together on occasion, which could explain how our signatures are similar. We picked up on each other's tricks. She's of Russian descent so, that's how I learned a few phrases, from her. Not fluent, but enough. It works well as code during jobs in certain countries, too," Bucky said, pausing to lift a noodle out of the water to test whether it was done or not.

Swirling your glass, you took the opportunity to pipe in. "What did she say in the cafe? Something about me?" you asked, trying to remain unbothered and casual.

Bucky turned your way, catching your eye apologetically. "No, it...it wasn't about you, I—"

"Then what was it about?"

He exhaled a heavy sigh, placing a colander in the sink to drain the pasta. "She said...something about how she never thought she'd see me leashed like a dog. I was more hesitant to commit in the past. Before you."

"And how did you reply?"

Bucky leaned against the counter, giving you his full attention. "I told her that not everyone considers commitment to be a noose around the neck. That I'm a different man now and I'm very happy with you," he said with a smile, which you tried to return, but something still nagged at you.

The question had to be asked or else you'd always wonder. "Were you romantically connected?"

He quickly scoffed. "I wouldn't call it that. Far from it, but we were...casually intimate, at times."

You dropped your head, chest tight and struggling to breathe deeply. Keeping your gaze on the tiled floor, you nodded. At least now you knew. It felt silly to hate the thought of Bucky with another woman before you had even met. Or at least, you assumed. The gaps between having seen each other in the past left a lot of room for other people and experiences. You had no doubt that Bucky had been faithful since you formally started dating, so it wasn't fair to judge who he was and how he had conducted himself before then. The same applied to you. Jealousy wasn't exactly the right word, but some part of you still was aching for everything the pretty redhead knew about him that you didn't.

"Hey," Bucky spoke softly, possibly not for the first time. You only heard him as he grasped your hands from his crouched position in front of you. "Y/N. Please look at me. I can promise you, what I had with Natasha? It wasn't meant to be anything more. Neither of us were interested in commitment and clearly she still isn't, but it doesn't matter. I've moved past that. I've grown. With you. This is the life I want to be living with you by my side."

Raising your eyes to meet his, you nodded more resolutely. "Okay. I know. And it's not that I doubt you or us. She just...she seems to understand a side of you that I probably never will."

Bucky surprised you with a smirk. "Well, that's a good thing then. You never would have given that version of me a second look. And I certainly wouldn't have deserved you then. In fact, I don't think I deserve you even now."

That finally brought a smile to your face. "Maybe not. But I love you, anyway."

He chuckled, lightly gripping your chin to press a kiss to your lips. "I love you, too."

Bucky stood and returned to the stove, stirring the sauce before adding herbs and seasonings.

"What about that face thing she used?" you asked, returning to your glass of wine.

"That's actually pretty cool," Bucky said as poured the pasta into the sauce and tossed it. "I don't even fully understand it but it's like a digital projection. It's programmed and I've seen most of her disguises so that's how I recognized her at the cafe. She has some pretty sweet tech. Natasha's helped me with a few jobs, even from across the globe."

Something clicked in your memory. "Is she your IT guy?"

Bucky grinned. "On occasion."

"So she got the footage of you lifting the Star of Bethlehem. Damn. How do you know she doesn't have copies? Do you trust her?" you inquired.

"As far as I need to trust her in the moment," he shrugged. "I don't think she has any need to keep that footage, but...I don't know. The good thing is, I have plenty of dirt on her as well. Mutually assured destruction. It's a delicate balance, but I trust her enough to let her meet you. The most precious part of my life."

You rolled your eyes at his corny compliment, but still stood from your chair and walked over to wrap your arms around Bucky from behind. "Do you want some wine with that cheese?"

Feeling the rumble of his chuckle against your own chest, he turned around within your grasp. "Yes, please."

Bucky pressed his lips to yours, caressing and tasting with a sweeping tongue into your mouth for a taste of your wine. Your hands brushed down his back to firmly grip his shapely backside, yielding a groan from deep inside him. He deepened the kiss, backing you toward the middle island in the kitchen, your ass touching cool granite. Bucky grasped your thigh, hitching it up onto his hip, or as much as your pencil skirt would allow.

And the doorbell rang.

He groaned against your lips, reluctantly pulling away and returning you to your feet. "Impeccable timing."

"At least she's prompt, for a thief," you joked, to which Bucky raised an eyebrow.

You straightened rumpled clothes and wiped your lipstick from your boyfriend's mouth.

"Do you think she'll play ball? Return the paintings?" you worried out loud.

"She will if I have any say about it. Just...let me breach the subject," Bucky requested. "I'll get the door."

"No," you stopped Bucky with a hand on his chest. "I've got it."

He relented with a nod, turning back to the stove.

Your heels clicked on the hardwood floors as you strode toward the front door, straightening your spine and reminding yourself how much of a badass you were. This blast from the past didn't change your relationship with Bucky or the life you'd built together. He chose you. And you chose him. This Natasha person was a means to an end. An unfortunate, but necessary tool to help out a friend.

A turn of the knob later and you swung the door open to reveal a stunning redhead in a flattering black dress that hugged her curves. She wore heels as well, her copper hair pulled back in a chignon with a few tasteful tendrils loose around her face. Bright red lipstick painted her lips, exaggerating the playful grin tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Natasha," you greeted her with a reserved smile. "Come in."

"Thank you," she replied, stepping over the threshold as her gaze roamed about the entry way of your home. "You have a very nice home."

Your stomach twisted at her scrutinizing gaze, but held your smile. "Yes, we do. With a very nice security system."

Natasha quirked an eyebrow, offering a nod as her eye focused on you. "Oh, Y/N. You have a little something..." she informed you, pointing to just below your lip.

Raising a hand to your mouth, you glanced in the nearby mirror on the wall, which showed a fair amount of your lipstick outside the lip line. "Oh. How embarrassing," you laughed in feigned regret, wiping off the waxy substance. "I do love it when my man cooks. Can barely keep my hands off him. Speaking of, I think dinner is about ready. Can I take your coat?"

Natasha obliged and you hung it on a nearby hook before leading her down the hall and into the wide open kitchen and dining room.

____________________

Dinner was a fairly normal affair, Bucky's cooking as delicious as ever. Conversation stayed on the surface, keeping things light. Natasha shared some of her recent travels without going into detail of why she was there. Bucky talked about his work at the museum and spoke highly of your gallery. You were more hesitant to offer details about your life, fearing that it could become ammunition in her hands. Bucky said he would bring up the heist himself, so you spent most of the evening waiting for that subject to arise, which kept you in a constant state of anxiety.

Each time you caught his eye and tried to offer a gentle reminder of why she was there, he sent you a comforting smile or a short squeeze of your thigh under the table. You were seconds away from blurting it out before you lost your mind, when suddenly Natasha stood from the table.

"Well, I must be going. Thank you so much for dinner."

Your mouth gaped open in confusion. "But I...what about—"

Bucky interrupted you, rising as well. "I'll walk you out," he told the redhead, walking past your chair to offer a squeeze to your shoulder on his way to the door.

Momentarily frozen in shock, you listened to the rustle of a coat followed by the front door closing. After a few minutes, you thawed enough to stand and begin gathering the dirty dishes. You rinsed all the plates and silverware, waiting for the sound of the door opening. After loading the dishwasher, you were still waiting. Stepping toward the entryway, you could see through the glass that Bucky was still outside in the freezing cold talking with Natasha. He didn't even have his suit coat on. You worried for him, but decided to step out of your heels and walk up the stairs rather than linger.

You were partway through your nighttime routine when you finally heard the heavy door close and lock behind Bucky. A moment later, he entered the bedroom and headed to the attached master bath where you stood facing the mirror. He stopped at the entryway, leaning against the door jamb as he rubbed his cold hands together.

"So?" you prompted.

Bucky breathed out a heavy sigh. "She'll do it. Give up the paintings."

You gasped in joy, whirling toward him to celebrate but his expression stopped you cold. Then it dawned on you. "What? What's are the conditions?" Of course, there had to be.

He pushed off from the entryway to walk back into the bedroom and you followed. "She'll give up the paintings...in exchange for my help."

Your brow furrowed. "Help with...oh," you caught on. "A two-man job."

Bucky nodded, taking a seat on the bed and untucking the tails of his shirt to start unbuttoning it.

The good news of the paintings soured in your stomach. Of course it couldn't be that easy. "What's the job?"

He lifted a shoulder. "I don't know much. I haven't agreed to it yet."

"You haven't?" you asked, eyes wide.

"No. I wanted to talk it through with you first," he said with a ghost of a smile.

You heart softened at his thoughtfulness. Difficult as this situation was, Bucky truly was doing his best to include you and make you as comfortable as possible. Under the circumstances.

Bucky reached a hand out and you grasped it. He pulled you toward the bed and you sat beside him, fingers intertwining.

"So, what DO you know?"

"I know...it doesn't involve travel."

Your heart skipped. "It's here in the city."

"And there's a loose timeline. There would be preparation and surveillance. If I take the job, I would have to be careful about not altering my current schedule to avoid suspicion. I would still be at the museum during the day, but it might mean some late nights."

With Natasha.

You inhaled a stuttering breath. "Okay. Do you know where? Who?"

Bucky shook his head. "Not yet. I didn't ask. I also didn't want to have to lie to you. I can't promise it won't be someone within your overlapping circles and I don't want you caught up in it. In fact...if I take this, I probably won't be able to tell you much of anything. For your sake."

Heart twisting in your chest, you nodded silently, not trusting your voice just yet. Fear and worry gripped you by the throat.

"Hey," he spoke gently with one finger under your chin to tilt your face toward his. "It doesn't have to be this job. Maybe...maybe I could owe her one or something. We can work something else out, I don't want you to—"

"No," you finally spoke. "It's okay. I'd prefer to get this over with rather than have it hanging over our heads. I mean, I'm talking as if I'm the one doing the job," you scoffed.

He frowned. "Stop. Of course you're an important part of this. That's why I want your input and support. I need you. And you're right. Another job with her could be anywhere. Anytime. Owing Natasha a debt is a heavy burden to bear," Bucky said, as if speaking from experience. Another unknown story you might never hear.

"So?"

"So...I take the job," he replied, setting his jaw.

You nodded, trying to offer an expression of support rather than terror.

Bucky raised your linked hands, pressing a kiss to the back of yours. "I couldn't do this without you. Thank you."

His lips traveled up your arm to the crook of your neck where he nibbled on that certain spot that drove you wild. Bucky pressed a kiss to your mouth, his fingers reaching for the hem of your night clothes. Slowly you undressed each other, savoring every touch and taste of bare skin. You took your time, lingering with every caress and drawing out each groan and sensation. Both of you needed this intimate connection, declarations of love spilling from your lips late into the night.

__________________

"An excellent selection, Mr. Blumwood. I'll package up the painting and ship it to your residence once I receive proof of payment," you spoke over the phone, walking across the gallery to place a "sold" tag on the work of art. The man assured a wire payment within the day and you said your goodbyes.

Hanging up the phone, you heard the ring of your own personal phone. Gesturing to your assistant, Rachel, that you were taking a call, she nodded and you stepped into your office and closed the door.

"Hello?"

"They're back! The paintings are back! Oh my god, I'm so relieved," Wanda exclaimed rather loudly in your ear, bringing a conflicted smile to your lips.

"Well, that's fantastic news! When did they return?" you asked.

"I don't know exactly but I came back from my lunch and they were in their frames again. I don't know how they got in and the security cameras glitched again, but honestly I'm not asking questions at this point. My nerves are too fried," your friend replied, sounding breathless. "I even double checked every other piece of artwork on the floor. Nothing's missing."

"Thank god for that," you sighed in relief, even as a weight settle in your gut.

"I can't thank you enough, Y/N. You and Bucky. I don't know what you did but I'm so grateful. Mr. Stark will be home tomorrow for his party and he never has to know."

You pursed your lips, holding back the knowledge that the job wasn't even done. But now you knew that Natasha had whatever assurance she needed that Bucky had signed on for the other heist. The lead ball in your stomach grew even larger. "You're welcome, Wanda. I'm glad it all worked out. And I would recommend tightening up your cyber security."

"Okay, I'll see to that. Thank you again, Y/N."

"We'll talk soon. Bye."

Pressing the end button, you slumped into your office chair. Pulling up your text messages you read the last exchange between you and Bucky. Normal daily check-ins and asking how your day was going. You typed out a vague message and hit send.

~Wanda called. All is well.~

Those three bouncing dots appeared before his reply.

~So glad to hear it. I'll see you tonight. Love you.~

~Love you too~

You replied, adding a heart emoji.

Hours later, you locked up the gallery and set the alarm before heading for home. A light was on inside and you knew it was set on a timer, but it still gave you a flicker of hope. Unlocking the front door, you were met with silence, as predicted. Still, your heart sank. Coming home to Bucky was your favorite part of the day. Slipping out of your heels, you padded down the hallway to the empty kitchen. Opening the fridge, you found some labeled leftovers Bucky had left for you. You let out a small smile. Even in his absence, he was taking care of you.

Taking your heated leftovers into the living room, you curled up on the couch and ate while catching up on a few TV shows. After a couple hours and a glass of wine or two, you headed upstairs to get ready for bed. It was strange. You had spent many years living life solo and it had been truly enjoyable. Solitary time was still a necessity but knowing that you would lie down in bed alone tonight made you feel hollow. Incomplete. There was the routine of it, of course, but honestly...you missed him. Already.

Perhaps it was the fact that you knew who Bucky was spending that time with instead. You didn't want to seem petty or ungrateful. It was just hard. Slipping under the covers, you laid in silence longer than normal, waiting for sleep to claim you.

You awoke to the mattress shifting, Bucky's weight causing you to roll in his direction. Turning onto your back to face him, you reached out a hand in the darkness and found his shoulder.

"Hi. I'm sorry, didn't mean to wake you," he whispered around a stifled yawn.

"That's okay," you croaked sleepily. "Always wake me. Please."

You could barely make out the tired smile on his handsome face with the moonlight streaming through gauzy curtains at the window.

"Okay."

Settling on his side, you turned as well, scooting closer toward him until his chest pressed against your back. He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close to spoon. Within moments you fell asleep in his arms.

_________________

The following days were much the same, waking each morning only to see Bucky dressed and rushing out the door. During normal times, you spent mornings savoring mugs of coffee together before you set off to work around the same time. As late as he was getting home at night lately, he was still up and awake before you.

Your work at the gallery was consistent and busy. Renovations for the expansion next door were scheduled to begin soon. The last of the demolition and build would be the wide doorway between your current space and next door, which would mean closing for a few days. The thought made you anxious, but overall it would be a wonderful addition, allowing many more artists to be featured.

After work, you came home to an empty house each night, much to your dismay. Once the leftovers were gone, you fell back into the habit of ordering takeout. You'd been spoiled by your boyfriend's delicious hobby that he thankfully enjoyed. Rarely did you get the inspiration or energy to cook yourself, despite how well-equipped and large your kitchen was. Dinner was accompanied by television and followed by heading up to bed alone.

As promised, Bucky always woke you no matter the hour so you always knew he was home safe. That fact did give you comfort but once your handsome, exhausted man quickly fell sleep, your mind often raced with questions and wild assumptions. How much longer would this be going on? When was the heist? Was Natasha dragging out this process just for spite? What if they got caught? The thought had ice running through your veins and shivers down your spine. You understood Bucky was protecting you by shielding you from the details of the heist, but not knowing anything gave space for too many imagined scenarios.

You found yourself working even on the weekend, fixating on the details of the expansion and new art acquisitions you could soon make. There wasn't any use in spending your free time at home, since Bucky was gone from dawn until past dark every day, regardless of his schedule at the museum. Better to keep yourself occupied.

It had been over a week since that dinner with Natasha when you walked in the front door to the sound of music and delicious scents wafting from the kitchen. Hesitant but holding on to hope, you walked down the hallway to see the glorious sight of your boyfriend bending down to grab something from the fridge. Bless that ass in suit pants.

"Hi," you said, still in disbelief.

Bucky quickly straightened, catching your eye. "Hey," he replied with a bright grin. "How does salmon sound for tonight?"

You blinked, now noticing the raw pink fillets on a plate in his hands. "Um. Sounds great. So...is it done?" you asked, holding your breath.

He set down the plate, crossing the room toward you. "Yes. It's done."

Throwing your arms around him, a sob escaped your throat in happiness and relief. "Oh, thank god," you whispered into the crook of his neck.

Bucky tightly embraced you, his warm hands caressing your back in needed comfort. He held you for a long few minutes before releasing you. His thumbs brushed away tears that spilled down your cheeks. "Hey, I'm okay. Everything went fine and I've fulfilled my part. Nothing to worry about," he assured you.

Nodding with a watery smile, you sniffled. "I know. I mean, I knew it would be. It's just...I've missed you," you admitted.

Bucky cradled your face in his hands. "I've missed you, too. You have no idea how much," he replied before pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.

You held his hands in place before you felt ready to separate, grabbing a tissue to wipe your tears and collect yourself. Bucky carried the salmon to the stove and continued preparing dinner, which felt so normal it made the past few days feel like a horrible dream.

"How's your week been?" he asked, multitasking like a pro.

Unleashing everything you'd been aching to share with him, you filled Bucky in on details for the renovation and recent purchases from the gallery. You even shared about the TV shows you'd been watching and a few series you thought he'd be interested in. Surprisingly, you had talked so long that by then Bucky was placing a gorgeous plate of food in front of you with a glass of white wine. Discovering your hunger, you dug in and nearly devoured it, it was so good. Bucky was suitably pleased at your enjoyment.

Spearing the last of your dinner onto your fork, curiosity got the better of you.

"So...you said it went well," you began.

Bucky eyed you, nodding. "It did."

"Was it everything you thought it would be? Had you missed it? Did she try to lure you back to the dark side?" you asked with a smirk, only partly joking.

He chuckled. "I don't know about 'luring', but Natasha may have hinted at how well we still work together."

Your stomach twisted, attempting to hide your negative reaction by chewing your last bite.

"But no. She wasn't successful, and no, I didn't miss it," Bucky assured you. "Honestly...I thought it might spark what I had long kept under wraps, but I didn't get that adrenaline rush and feeling of accomplishment I once did. Instead, I was more worried about running into someone I knew and respected or botching the job and losing everything I've built over the past year, including my life with you. I'm no longer willing to risk it."

Eyes wide in shock, you processed Bucky's admission with a heavy swallow. Recovering, you leaned forward. "You're sure?"

Stretching a smile across his face, Bucky nodded. "Yes, I'm sure. Oh, I almost forgot..."

Bucky reached a hand into his trouser pocket and pulled out a flat, rectangular blue velvet box.

"This is for you," he declared, sliding it across the table.

Momentarily speechless, your eyes darted from Bucky to the box in front of you a few times before you picked it up and cracked it open. Inside was a white gold necklace with a beautiful, delicate chain and hanging from it was a diamond pendant in a star shape, much like the Star of Bethlehem that brought you together so many years before.

"Bucky..." you exhaled. "It's gorgeous. I love it."

He beamed, capturing your other hand. "It's a few days late, but I hope you'll forgive me. Happy Valentine's Day, my love."

Your brain glitched at those words. Oh shit.

"Oh, right...I...thank you. Happy Valentine's Day, Bucky," you replied, attempting a smile and simultaneously wracking your brain.

The holiday had completely escaped you, even though you now remembered that it was Tony Stark's Valentine's Day party that became the deadline for returning the paintings. Too many other things became much more urgent.

"I bought it with my own hard-working, honorable paycheck, I swear. I even have the receipt," he teased with a wink.

You laughed. "I don't doubt you. Actually, I have something for you, too..." you trailed off, finally remembering your hiding spot.

Thankfully, you had made the purchase a month before but temporarily forgot where you'd hidden it. Walking toward the hall closet, you reach into the pocket of a lighter jacket meant for warmer weather. Retrieving the box, you returned to the dining room where Bucky now stood. Handing him the box, Bucky pulled the ribbon free and opened it to display the gold cufflinks you'd had inscribed with his initials, JBB.

Grinning brightly, he lifted one for closer inspection. "They're perfect, Y/N. Thank you. I love them."

You leaned in for a kiss and pulled back. "I love you."

Bucky searched your eyes with a soft gaze. "I want to marry you."

Another brain glitch. "You...what??"

Huffing out a chuckle, Bucky wrapped his arms around you. "Sorry. It slipped out it, although I do mean it. I do want to marry you. Clearly that velvet box doesn't contain the proper jewelry, but...I'll be better prepared in the future. That wasn't a proposal and I don't need an answer right now. In fact...I want you to bring it up next time. When you're ready."

Mouth dropped open ever since he dropped the "M" bomb, you finally closed it and pursed your lips trying to rein in a widening smile. Nodding, you agreed. "Okay."

Pressing another kiss to your lips, Bucky then reached for the necklace and fastened the clasp around your neck. Pressing a hand to the jewel resting against your sternum, you reached out with the other to thread your fingers with Bucky's. Leading him down the hall and up the stairs, he followed you to the bedroom for a proper reunion. Slowly stripping each other down and falling into bed, you celebrated with your forever Valentine as your bodies fell into their natural, pleasurable rhythm.

___________

The next morning, you decided to sneak downstairs to grab coffee for you both when you heard the slap of a newspaper smacking your front door. Opening it, you retrieved the paper and tucked it under your arm before carrying both mugs upstairs.

Settling back into bed with your handsome Bucky, bedhead and all, you pulled off the rubber band and unfolded the newspaper. The front page displayed the words BILLIONAIRE REAL ESTATE TYCOON INVESTIGATED FOR FRAUD.

Reading on, you discovered that a certain well-known but much-hated man in New York had been caught trying to insure three supposedly priceless paintings for millions of dollars. Upon further inspection, they were found to be fakes.

Turning the paper to show Bucky, he feigned confusion and then shrugged. "Sucks for him. Guess he should be more careful where he gets his art, huh," he said, hiding his smile behind his coffee mug.

Shaking your head with a smile, you tossed the newspaper aside and enjoyed your morning coffee with the man you love.

The End??

_____________________________________________________________

OMG!!!! So??? What do you think of reformed art thief Bucky?? Ugh, I love him so much. And yes, there's a touch of BuckyNat but in the past. I loved writing Natasha this way as the talented thief and spy. Would you be worried if your man was spending time with her?? ha! Maybe. ;) I love where Bucky came to in deciding not to do any more heist, though. Probably. Who knows? I don't have any current plans but if an idea comes to me, I might write it. I'd love to hear your thoughts!! I love you all. Thank you for being here. <3