❛  𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞  ❜

❝ here's to falling in love again. slowly. ❞

        THE first question that was on Bucky's mind was if she remembered him. It sat at the tip of his tongue.

The words bounced around in his head, hurling themselves at each other, wanting to spill out. It tugged on his mind by a single thread, not enough to be dire, but still lingering. Waiting for the right time. But when was that time? If ever?

It felt like his mind never stopped thinking. He was starting to gain a headache from it all. His hand reached up to rub his temple yet again. In slight irritation, Bucky flicked his hair from his face.

Bucky was confident enough to admit that she had some significance to his past life, no matter how little (that he knew of). As the Winter Soldier, they were associates. Nothing more, nothing less. Although, more and more flashes came to mind of her. Certain scents suddenly gave him deja vu, and he could feel the familiarity just by being around her.

A long exhale pulled Bucky's attention, him glancing at Anastasia as they walked down the pavement. Both of their shoes caused quiet clicks against the wide sidewalk. His fingertips tingled in his jacket pockets, continuously rubbing the pads of his fingers in circles. Round and round.

It felt like a forced silence to him, which only made his anxiety and dread worsen.

Anastasia was in her own world, contemplating over her assassin days. She couldn't help it. Now that she had time to think...it's all she ever did. No resets anymore. No blank slate to build from. Every face passed through her mind. How she did it, where, when. Everything.

It was horrifying to mule over. She didn't want to intentionally. The guilt sat heavy in her stomach, making her borderline nauseous. Anastasia realized that fruits were easy to keep down, so she stocked up on them. Nothing solid yet.

What could distract her right now? Something to take the mental strain away.

Her eyes suddenly were on the move, searching their environment high and low.

Notice something.

Her eyes shifted left.

Find something to focus on.

Then right. Up. Back down.

Anything.

Bucky was oblivious to the rapid glances Anastasia gave him. His face was guarded, she could tell. His own mind was probably on the run too. Deep down she was glad that Bucky asked her out on a walk again. She couldn't stand sitting still for too long. She wasn't even tired either, which was worse.

What about that song that she heard at the record store? How did it go again? It was for sure a man's voice...

Her brows slowly pulled together in thought as she absentmindedly watched her shoes walk.

"S'up here." Bucky spoke quietly. Ana nearly didn't hear him. Perking her head up, she spotted the gas station with an OPEN sign flashing brightly.

In under a minute, Bucky and Anastasia entered the store and were standing at the front counter with medium black coffees.

The worker punched it in, looking bored from their night shift.

In the few seconds of quietness, Anastasia's eyes found the cork board behind the worker. On it was a poster for an upcoming winter festival, in the early weeks of December before the snowfall.

"Zece optzeci si sase de lei."

As if it was a surprise that they had to pay, both former assassins glance at one another before they start searching for money on their person.

Anastasia is the first to retrieve the currency, handing it over. Before the retail worker could hand back the change, both were out the door.

Bucky exited after her, already finding her sitting on a nearby bench, cascaded in the yellow street lights.

She held the paper cup close, hands hugging the cardboard sleeve. The steam seeped from the small opening on the lid, and she let it waft over her face.

Gently settling down beside her, Bucky took a large sip of his beverage. Facing the other way than her, he observed his surroundings.

A long moment passed between them, filled with light traffic in the distance, the electrical hum from the nearby store. Down the road, two people ambled closer, one holding a leash for their dog.

Anastasia's mind crept back to the song she was trying to remember. It was from a few hours ago.

When she finally caught the beat, her foot started to tap. Quietly, to avoid attention. Bucky quickly caught this, eyes shifting to her shoe. It was two bounces a second; meaning the song was faster paced.

Next was her hand. Her fingers, more specifically.

She tapped her index every other beat, going with her foot. Bucky's gaze moved to her face afterwards. It was neutral, but he knew there was something going on behind her eyes. Was she thinking of a song?

This was new to him. To her too, probably.

He now wondered what song it was. Of course, that beat could amount to a multitude of songs. But Bucky wanted to inquire which one it was. If he heard the lyrics, maybe he would know it.

But, Bucky didn't know any music. Right now, at least. He didn't have time to listen to it. Taking another sip of his hot beverage, he glanced up into the sky, the blackness filtered a slight yellow due to the cities lights.

He thinks he enjoys music. But which genres?

Bucky's nose scrunched in thought, now trying to recall even what fucking genres there even are. He had to catch up on a lot.

"I actually miss the cold, y'know." Anastasia softly admitted, disrupting Bucky's thoughts. His head pivoted down at an angle, watching her with half-hooded eyes. Her index finger and shoe were now still, the rhythm gone.

He remained close-mouthed, waiting for further explanation. Pulling up the large hood over her hair and face, Anastasia seemed to sink further into her jacket. "When we were in Oymyakon, I remember doing ARB in freezing temperatures. It's a strange feeling."

Bucky knew what she was talking about.

Armeyskiy Rukopashniy Boy

One of the many Soviet martial arts the Soldiers were taught. Each base trained different martial arts, some the same. It just depended which one you were traded to.

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Bucky replied in a low tone, lifting the cup to his mouth. The lid was off, and he let the steam cover his face to keep it warm. "I can almost smell the cold."

When he suddenly realized Anastasia paid, again, he glanced at her, "Thanks for the coffee."

She met his eyes, nodding benevolently. Her expression was softer, jaw unclenched. The exhaustion was plain on her face but he knew she couldn't sleep. That makes two of them.

The two took another gulp at the same time, letting the bitter taste coat their tongues. It warmed them up in the low temperatures.

"What did you buy?"

Anastasia locked eyes with him again, eyebrows perking at him in a silent question. Bucky softly jutted his head to the side, airily gesturing to the apartment building they resided in.

"Records. O-Or vinyls, I think people call them. I—" She cuts herself off, as if she was about to confess something egregious. "I saw some names that I recognized for the first time. Also bought a few I didn't know."

Her words come out forced and rigid, sounding uncomfortable to even admit. She looked starched, even guilty.

"Can I see them?" He questions tenuously, curious on what music sounded like again.

Anastasia didn't reply, but stood to her feet. Taking two large gulps of her drink, she tossed it in the nearby trash bin. Bucky drank the rest of his before doing the same and walking with her.

The trip back seemed shorter to Bucky, and his feet felt lighter too. Although Anastasia was still taciturn, he felt the silence was less stipulated

Entering the apartment, two pair moved for the bags laying on the bed. Anastasia passed the thinner bag to Bucky, the ones that held the record discs. She had her own, and pulled out an old record player. "Got this at the thrift shop. Of all my luck."

"No kiddin'." Bucky muttered to himself, pulling open the plastic bag.

"I asked for anything older they had. The worker said this is what they had for vintage records." Anastasia spoke with a lingering humor, hiding in between her words.

Bucky nearly scoffed at the word vintage.

Inside were five twelve inch records and four seven inch. Even staring at the thin edges of the covers, images of records from his past went through his mind. It almost brought a weird comfort.

Pulling the first one out, he stared at the cover art. His face didn't react at first before he turned it over. "Ray Charles Ray Charles?"

Anastasia stepped beside him, craning her head to glance at the cover. "Ray Charles by Ray Charles. I heard he was a blind pianist."

Her eyes danced around the cover art, a demure smile slowly inching her lips. Placing the vinyl down, Bucky continued reading aloud the album names.

"Elv1s: Thirty Number One Hits, but for some reason the 'i' in his name is a one..." His eyes squinted in confusion, holding the record with both hands. Bucky's eyebrows pulled together and Anastasia noticed a wrinkle molding between them as he did.

Anastasia's lips jerked, hinting a smile at his scrutiny. Her tone was still sombre, "I haven't heard of Elvis Presley either, but the shop clerk insisted I had to get this. Said it was a classic, apparently."

Bucky placed it down, grabbing the next with his left hand, he held it up, angling it enough for Anastasia to see too, like she's seeing them for the first time too. "Unforgettable by Nat King Cole." And the next, "The Complete Harry James in Hi-Fi?"

Anastasia watched the man slightly lower his head, as if he didn't want someone else to hear him, "What's a hi-fi?"

"High frequency?" She replied back, taking the turntable out of the bag before removing it from the box. It was designed to look like a suitcase and it said wireless on the front. They've changed.

Bucky hummed.

He pulled the last record; "ABBA Gold: Greatest Hits. Am I reading that right? ABBA? Abbey?"

The cover was navy blue, with gold lettering and a thin gold square along the edge.

"That band is more modern, if I remember correctly. I think either seventies or eighties. Nineties?" Anastasia took the cord out of the re-wrapped packaging, plugging the player into the wall so they didn't have to worry about the machine dying.

He turned the album over, silently reading the song names. Nineteen of them, and half of them he couldn't even pronounce.

"Geez, these titles.. Are they Italian?"

She shrugged.

Laying it down on the bed, Bucky grabbed the three smaller discs, rotating them over like cards when he read the titles.

"Rasputin and," he flipped it. "Painter Man by Boney M."

"Dream a Little Dream of Me and Midnight Voyage by The Mamas and The Papas."

"Cry to Me and I Almost Lost My Mind by Solomon Burke."

And the last one, "Tonight You Belong To..." Bucky's words trailed off as he read the last title. It sounded so familiar. The artist on this record was new. It wasn't Gene Austin like he recalled it to be back then.

There was that wrinkle again, Anastasia stared at it. While his eyes were burning into the PVC disc, she could tell his mind was somewhere else. This sparked something.

He was suddenly back in his Brooklyn apartment. Just by the smell alone, Bucky could tell this was home. He could hear the rain beating against the window pane like small finger taps, passing it's zenith forty minutes ago.

Bucky's room was small. Although he lived alone, the size was barely enough for one person. Let alone two. But they didn't mind it. The world was shut out tonight.

The sill was lifted an inch, to let fresh cool air in. The weather was peeking this June. Air brushed in every few seconds, brushing up the sheer cotton drapes that hung at the sides. In the corner sat a lamp, throwing everything in a warm shade of yellow. The bulb hadn't been changed in a few years.

Bucky noticed a weight on his chest. Tilting it down, he was met with soft chocolate hair. A soft halo of frizz covered her lush hair, giving away the deep slumber she had. The glossy strands cascaded across his bare chest and sloped down his ribs

Amidst the soft padder of the rain, there was a croon. Barely inaudible but seemingly to gradually increase in volume. It was her, humming along with the song.

Her hair slid smooth down her shoulder blades as she lifted herself. Pressing onto her chest, she rested her chin on her stacked hands. "Though...you belong to somebody else... Tonight you belong to me..."

Anastasia's voice was silvery,

She was slowly drawing circles around his ribs, avoiding eye contact. It tickled his pale skin.

Sliding a hand down one shoulder, he squeezed her soft skin, "Now why are you singing like that? You thinkin' I'm leaving you forever? And you think I'm gonna leave my best gal for some share crop?"

Still staring down, her reddened lips pursed for a moment as she thought towards her next words, "You're...just leaving in a few days and I'm scared without you around."

Her confession was timid, and it sat on her chest, heavy and suffocating. Who was she to demand Bucky stick around for her? Let alone someone who wasn't his.

"We'll be on the same base, remember? I know we won't see each other that much, but..."

He glanced down again, finding her looking away, picking at her nails. He could see she was still unconvinced.

"Doll, my heart is only yours." Bucky tucked his finger under her chin, gently pulling it up. "You're the only one for me."

Anastasia passed off his words, lightly smacking his shoulder, "Ha-ha, Bucky. Stop flapping your lips so much—"

Bucky stopped her talking by firmly grabbing her hand. Anastasia's face melted into hesitation, as if she was in trouble.

"I mean it, Ana." Both of them watched as he loosened his grip before slowly fidgeting with her hand. Inhaling slowly, Bucky looked into her eyes.

"I know we've been rolling around for a while now, but I want something more," his hand slid down her arm, "cause lately I've been starting to care for you a lot."

Anastasia watched as his fingers slid up her bicep before cupping her cheek. Bucky gently turned her forward, "I'm falling in love with you. With you make me the luckiest man ever and be my gal?"

"Bucky—"

"Call me James." He quickly intervened, smirking devilishly. "I like how you say it."

Anastasia fought her own, squishing her lips to the side as she paused. "James... I think I'm starting to feel the same way."

"So is that a yes, doll?"

"Yes." Anastasia's lips bloomed a radiant smile and Bucky drank it in.

His teeth flashes bright as he suddenly hugged her in his arms and rolled onto his back with a yell.

She squealed after, laughing along with James.

"You alright?"

Bucky's eyes snapped to hers, ridden with pure embarrassment. Glancing down at his hands, he noticed they started to clench up, nearly cracking the vinyl.

The memory was only a few seconds long, but it felt like forever in his mind.

He threw the disc down as if he was repulsed by it suddenly. Bucky's fists clenched and he felt his ears heat up.

Bowing his head, he bit the inside of his cheek, clamping as hard as he could to push down his burst of emotions, "Y-Yeah."

Anastasia nodded, turning away from him. Her heart was pounding in her chest, feeling the rhythmic thump in her ears.

Her theory proved right.

authors notes;

y'all i got like 2 years of plot
i (*roughly*) planned out...

how slow you want this burn
to be? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)