Conversation was impossible on the ten minute drive to Bucky's place. The loud thundering of rain pelting the truck's roof along with Bucky's need to concentrate on the road with very little visibility, you resigned yourself to silence. You didn't mind though. It gave you a chance to unabashedly stare at the man you hadn't seen in two years, and yet you instantly still felt that comfort and ease in his presence.

Bucky was right, he hadn't changed much. His hair was a bit longer with a few more laugh lines around his eyes, but you found that they made him even more attractive. One of your first observations, though, was the lack of a ring on his finger. That still wasn't a definitive answer to a question you had yet to voice, though.

Bucky turned off the main road and drove half a mile before he pulled in front of a small one-story house. Although he probably would have opened your door for you under normal circumstances, instead you jumped out the second the truck was in park and ran for the porch with your purse tucked under your blazer. Bucky was right behind you, quickly unlocking the door and ushering you inside.

He flicked on a light and you glanced around. The house was cozy and definitely a bachelor pad. To your left was the kitchen and dining area with mismatched chairs, to the right was the living room with a tv and a sagging couch. There was a hallway directly ahead, presumably leading to the rest of the house.

"It's not much, but it's home," Bucky uttered humbly.

"It's great," you replied with a grin. "Very...you."

Bucky smiled, scratching the back of his neck nervously. He toed out of his heavy work boots and you did the same, slipping off your soaking wet wedge sandals and leaving them by the door. Bucky walked further into the house, flipping on lights and attempting to tidy up a bit. He clearly wasn't expecting company.

Picking up a shirt from the couch and kicking a stray pair of shoes into the bedroom, he then turned your way. "Make yourself comfortable. I can get towels or blankets, whatever you need to—"

As he was tidying up, you had placed your purse on the table and removed your sopping wet blazer to hang on a chair. When Bucky abruptly stopped speaking and his eyes flew to the ceiling, you looked down and noticed that your white shirt wasn't as dry as you thought. The fabric clung to you and was now see-through, showing more of your undergarments than you would like. Quickly you retrieved your blazer and hugged it against your chest.

"Sorry! Um...I should have grabbed my suitcase from the car or something, I didn't mean to..." you trailed off in regret.

Blushing, Bucky's gaze remained above your head just in case, "It's, uh...no problem. Um...do you want some dry clothes to borrow? I can throw yours in the dryer if you'd like."

"That would be great, actually," you replied, face still hot in embarrassment.

"Okay," he answered, whirling around to the bedroom. He returned with a pair of sweat pants and a long-sleeved shirt, handing them to you.

Accepting the dry clothes, you still kept one hand on the blazer against your chest. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. You can change in the bathroom down the hall on the left."

"Actually," you wanted to ask, but felt a bit odd about it, "would you mind if I used your shower? I've been traveling all day and now with the rain and mud..."

"Of course!" he spoke quickly. "Yeah, anything you need. Are you hungry? I can whip something up," he offered, clasping his hands in front of him as if he didn't know where to put them.

"Oh, you don't have to, I ate at the airport. I'm not sure what time that was though..." You thought back over the day filled with a blur of travel, now feeling the emptiness of your stomach.

"It's no trouble, I promise. I need to eat anyway and I tend to make a lot for leftovers. I'll get that started while you shower," he said with a smile, meeting your eye.

"That sounds great," you replied with a smile of your own, then retreating to the bathroom.

Finally feeling warm and clean after a hot shower, you slipped on the sweats and tied them around your waist, then pulling the shirt over your head. You couldn't stop yourself from pulling the fabric up to your nose and inhaling. The shirt smelled of laundry detergent but also something distinctly Bucky. You had noticed it in the cab of his truck but upon stepping foot in the house, you were overwhelmed by it. The scent was warm and woody with a hint of spice and engine grease. Memories flooded back to that hotel room all those years ago.

You brought yourself to the present and tamed your damp hair the best you could before stepping out into the hallway toward the kitchen. Bucky had his back to you as he stood at the stove, stirring something. You watched for a moment as he moved about the kitchen, checking on something in the oven before he returned to stirring. Turning toward the fridge, he finally noticed you and smiled with a soft look in his eye to see you wearing his clothes again.

"Feeling better?" he asked, opening a cupboard to retrieve a colander.

"Much. Thank you. Is there anything I can do?" you offered, rolling up the shirt's overly long sleeves.

"I think I've got it covered. Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes," he stated, slipping on oven mitts and pulling a pot from the stove. He turned his face to the side as he poured it into the colander, avoiding the steam.

"Okay. I should probably call my mom and let her know what's happening," you said with a sigh.

"Take your time," he grinned, tossing the pasta as it drained over the sink.

Wandering back into the living room, you retrieved your phone and dialed.

She picked up on the second ring. "Hi, sweetie, are you close by? It looks like there's a storm on the way."

"Hi, mom. Actually, the storm must be coming from this direction because it already hit. Hard. I couldn't even see 10 feet in front of me, so I pulled into a small town to wait it out," you told her, fibbing slightly about the timing of the storm.

"Oh, dear! Well, that's rotten. Were you able to get someplace safe I hope?" you mother asked, concern in her voice.

"Yeah, I'm safe. But the rain still hasn't let up yet and it'll be dark soon. In fact, I might not make it until morning," you said quietly with your gaze on the man in the kitchen, unsure how he might react to that news. He probably wouldn't turn you away, but you didn't want to assume.

"That's alright, peanut. You just stay safe and wait it out. I've missed you and I want you here as soon as possible, but I also want you here in one piece," she said sternly, making you smile.

"I love you, mom. I missed you, too. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Sleep tight, sweetie. I love you."

After hanging up, you checked your email and answered a few texts before he gained your attention.

"Y/N, dinner's ready," he called for you, setting the last dish on the table before he stepped back and smiled in accomplishment.

Walking closer, you took in the meal before you. It looked like spaghetti marinara with fresh garlic bread and a green salad. Your stomach grumbled as the delicious smells hit your nose.

"Wow, this looks amazing," you said as Bucky indicated for you to sit, and you obliged.

Bucky settled into a seat across from you. "Well, it's not 'the best Italian in town'..." he teased, referring to your first date. You met his eye and shared that memory for a moment.

"Homemade is always better," you declared with a smile. "I don't think I've had a home-cooked meal since I canceled my Blue Apron membership."

"Your what membership?" Bucky asked, confused as he served you some pasta.

"Oh, um...it's kind of like a delivery service. You order the meals and they send you the right amount of ingredients with instructions so you can cook it yourself."

"Really? Can't you just look at a recipe and buy the groceries yourself instead of paying someone?" he cocked an eyebrow, perplexed.

You laughed, "Yeah, well, when you put it that way...It just came to a point where I wasn't home enough to do the cooking part. Or I was holed up in a room writing and only took breaks to order takeout."

"Wow," he replied, handing you the bowl of sauce to serve yourself. "Sounds...intense."

You shrugged. "It can be. But before we talk more about me, let's talk about your comment regarding Wanda," you raised your eyebrows, gesturing with your empty fork before diving into the heavenly-smelling pasta.

He sat back, rubbing his neck sheepishly. "Um...okay. Well, after you left Wanda was pretty cold to me for a while. Not rude, but...I don't know. Not pleasant. Then after a few weeks, she flipped a 180 and would approach me in the grocery store to chat or dropped by the bar when she knew me and the guys would be there. It was strange. She even started bringing her car in to the shop, claiming it was making a noise. I had worked on that car recently so I knew it was fine, but I checked anyway and didn't charge her because there wasn't anything wrong. I don't normally charge just for a diagnostic."

Nodding, you twirled your pasta on the fork and took a bite, then letting out a groan of pleasure. "Ohmahgah so good," you said with your mouth full, which was slightly impolite but Bucky just laughed.

"I'm glad you're enjoying it. Anyway, I knew she was making up excuses when she brought her car in for a sixth check-up and still found nothing wrong. I was afraid she was going to actually damage something just so I would fix it, so I asked her what this was all really about. She finally admitted that she needed a date after getting roped into chaperoning at the high school prom. Her brother, Pietro, is the track coach there so she's still involved with events sometimes. I just told her if she had asked straight-out, I would have agreed because I'm always willing to help out a friend. She didn't have to go through all this nonsense. She frowned a little at my response, but in the end was grateful that I said yes."

"So you did it? You really chaperoned the high school prom?" you asked with humor in your voice, reaching for a slice of garlic bread.

"Yeah," he chuckled. "It wasn't that bad, just watch the punch bowl and check the bathrooms and janitor's closet every 15 minutes for wayward couples." You laughed at that as he blushed slightly. "But Wanda did ask me to dance a few times when we weren't on chaperone duty and by the end of the night, I could tell it all meant more than it was supposed to. I did emphasize the word friend when she asked, but..."

"Oh no..."

"Oh yes. It was high school all over again. I dropped her at home and said I'd see her around but she got huffy when I was clear that we wouldn't go out again. She went off about how she thought I was ready to date again and implied that she was doing me a favor by 'picking up the pieces' after you left and I just...I might have snapped a little. I told her that I would never have with her that I had with you and that she needed to stop fixating on me. It wasn't going to happen. I guess she got the message cause she got out of the truck and slammed the door, heading for home. After that, I was pretty much dead to her. Same with her brother. There are still parts of town that I can't visit without getting a verbal lashing or icy stare thanks to whatever she told people afterward. I didn't correct them. They can believe what they want," he finished with a shrug.

You had set down your fork sometime during his story and listened quietly, finally responding when he finished. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. I just can't believe she still couldn't let it go after all these years. At least it's over," he said in relief, taking a bite of his own pasta.

"So," you began hesitantly, "have you dated since then?" You tried to remain casual but likely failed. Seeing most of the house, you thought you had your answer, especially after seeing only one toothbrush and no obvious signs of a female presence. Still, you had to come out and ask.

"I have," he replied. "I mean, I did. There was an elementary school substitute teacher who was here for a school year. We met at the bar and hit it off. It wasn't anything serious, though. She left at the end of the year and that was that," he said with a tone of finality. "What about you? Are you seeing anyone?"

You expected this. "I was seeing someone...until recently. He's in the industry and we met during a project I was on. He's a really good man, but...I don't know." You left things vague as Bucky had, but essentially, things were cleared up for you. It may not mean anything in the end, but at least you had your answers. Most of them.

A comfortable silence hung in the air as you both ate for a few moments before Bucky opened up conversation again.

"So tell me about L.A. You mentioned 'the industry'? As in films? What have you been up to?" he asked with genuine curiosity.

Huffing out a loud sigh, you thought back over the past two years and how to best describe the ups and downs of chasing your dreams. "Well. Once I got to L.A., I was completely overwhelmed. It's hard to describe how large the area is that most people would consider 'Los Angeles'. I got lost SO many times and looked at cheap apartments in scary areas, even sleeping in my car one night, but I didn't even sleep because I was terrified. I finally found a place, though, after a week of searching. A four-bedroom apartment with 5 other people in their 20s. Most are actors or dancers with day jobs."

Bucky looked relieved after hearing your harrowing tale that you had found a safe space. He took another bite and let you continue.

"I met with that possible agent I mentioned before, Tony Stark? He's a no-nonsense guy but he does have a heart, so he still gave me a chance. The script I had sent him was some superhero story based on a lesser-known comic book character who I loved growing up. Stark passed on that one but liked my style and story pacing so he gave me another chance to prove myself, which is rare. I basically pitched him a few stories I had in the works. He picked one and told me to run with it and I did. I finished it after a grueling few weeks of madness and he shopped it around. Eventually, someone optioned it and everything happened so fast after that, it seems."

"That's amazing," he declared, grinning at you as he reached for his water glass. "What's the story?"

You smiled wistfully, thinking back on those months you spent completely wrapped up in this project. "It's an action-packed thriller where an Interpol agent is hunting a rogue assassin around the world, trying to anticipate his next target and get ahead to capture him. But then there's a twist in the middle where the agent starts to question the assassin's motives along with his own. It was...it was pretty intense to write and I got to be on set at times for re-writes, so the entire project was amazing. Huge learning experience," you said with a slow shake of your head.

"Wow," Bucky breathed out in awe. "That sounds awesome. So, it's an actual movie? It's in theaters and everything?"

"Yep. An actual movie," you nodded, still in disbelief yourself. "Although, it's not in theaters anymore. I think it's out on DVD and such."

"I'd love to see it."

"You should. I think you'd enjoy it. Not that I'm at all biased, by the way," you laughed.

He chuckled along with you. "I wonder if the video store has it...maybe I could go out and check if the rain has died down."

"Wait, are you serious?" you gaped at him. "You want to watch it tonight? And secondly, you still have a video store? It's probably on Netflix anyway."

He rolled his eyes with a smile. "Yes, we have a video store. We live a little behind the times and that's not a bad thing. Also, I don't have that Flexit thing."

"It's Netflix, Buck, and that's okay, we could use my log-in," you shrugged.

Bucky was silent then, pursing his lips before he smiled guiltily. Then it occurred to you: taking another look around house, you didn't see one piece of the latest technology. Bucky's tv was boxy and square with a DVD/VCR combo next to it. There was no computer in sight and you'd never even seen him with a cell phone.

You turned back toward him, eyes wide in shock. "You don't even have internet, do you?"

He just took a bite of pasta and chewed with a close-lipped smile until he swallowed. "I've just never seen a need for it."

Sitting back in your chair, you let that sink in. How anyone could live without internet in this day and age was beyond you.

"Oh, wait!" he exclaimed and stood up, having finished his plate of food. "Darcy! She's my next door neighbor and she owns practically every movie ever made. Well, 'only the good ones', she claims. I'll run over there."

Bucky had thrown on a jacket and was out the door before you could respond, so you enjoyed your last few bites of past and carried your plate to the kitchen sink. You started to clear the table, but were unsure where to put anything so you left the bowls of food in the kitchen and found a towel to wipe down the table. By then, Bucky had returned and hung up his soaking wet jacket. He waved the DVD case triumphantly for you to see.

"Got it!" he smiled, then frowned upon seeing what you were doing. "Y/N, you do not have to clean up, I'll take care of that. Why don't you pop in the movie and I'll finish in the kitchen?" he bargained, handing the DVD to you.

"I don't mind cleaning up, but if you say so," you shrugged, walking to the living room with the movie in hand. Looking down, you glanced at the cover to see a familiar face, making you smile. You inserted the DVD and discovered what you hoped was a universal remote on the tv before settling on the couch.

Bucky walked in a few minutes later with a bowl of fresh popcorn in his hands. "Ready to go?" he asked, settling on the couch a few inches from you.

"Yeah," you replied, then hesitating nervously. "Bucky...is this okay? I mean, it's getting late and there's got to be another hotel in town, I should go..."

He interrupted you by placing a warm hand on yours. "Y/N. Just stay. Please? It's ridiculous for you to go out again in the storm when you're more than welcome here. I'll sleep on the couch, I've done it dozens of times on accident and I won't hear another word about it."

You opened your mouth to protest, but he held up a hand with a stern expression, so you relented. "Okay. I'll stay. Thank you, Bucky."

His face lit up when you agreed, causing that sputtering spark inside you spread warmth from the inside out. Tearing your gaze from his, you picked up the remote and pressed play.

______________________

And the plot thickens! :D That awkward wet t-shirt moment had me blushing as I wrote it! heh. And what about that hospitable Bucky and his cute little house? I'd stay too. ;) Wanda makes another unfortunate appearance. Oy. The movie plot, though? Anyone catch the little easter eggs? Any feedback is appreciated! <3