May 3rd, 2025

She was able to keep up the facade for most of the night. But her red rimmed eyes and inability to hold a conversation gave her away.

Of course he had heard about Westview, was genuinely shocked if he was honest. While he'd been busy fighting off the flag smashers, Wanda had accidentally unleashed her chaos on the sleepy town, unknowingly entrapped its civilians and played house. From the little that he saw on the news, it looked like no long-lasting harm had been committed.

Physically, anyway.

Somehow, the Scarlet Witch had been able to resurrect her dead husband. Eventually it had all come undone, and she was lucky to evade arrest. Bucky hated that he'd been overseas, grappling with mislead kids while she'd been stuck in her little bubble, consumed in her fantasy but utterly alone.

Just like last year, he found her on the front porch, this time standing by the window railing. Her hair had grown, scrapping by her upper elbows, and her eyes were rimmed red, nose stained a similar blush. She caught his eye as he approached, and instead of turning away, she starred him down.

Emotions on full display, she said nothing as he stopped in-front of her. Her hands clasped, Bucky gave her a nod, his own hands stuffed in his pockets.

"Hell of a year, I heard." He said, cautiously. He knew it was rude, insensitive as hell, but how else was he going to get her to stop starring?

Wanda blinks once, then again, before turning on her heel and entering the house. A few moments later she comes back with two empty glances, holding one out to him. He takes it wordlessly, removing the flask from his pocket and devising them each a serving.

She began to cry as she took a swing, her nose and eyes contorting from the strength of the liquor.

They both lean against the railing, starring out at the makeshift drive way and water lapping on the shore. Wanda swirls the liquid around her glass, but doesn't say anything, silent tears falling from her face.

He wants to speak to her, say anything to brush the thoughts of the past year away. Anything to help her crying. Maybe an argument, or a revolution, or something as petulant as American sports.

"Whats wrong, Wanda?"

She lets out a shaky breath, and like all the years before he looks away, for her sake. She sniffles again, then a muffled sob echos around him.

"Look, I don't really know what went down in Westview, but it's been a few months and from where I'm standing, you sound pathetic." He takes a sip.

She lets out a choking sound.

She's shorter than him, with petite hands, and he wonders how she and Vision had ever made a match. From what he remembers, the Android had been tall.

"Go fuck yourself." She spits, venom lacing her tone like a glove.

If she's baiting him, he'd be more than happy to oblige.

"How nice." He drawls, nodding. "and yet again, pathetic."

"The only reason you're fucking standing here is because Sam pities you, Barnes." She stares at him hard. "He pities the fact that you were a mindless killing machine, and the only person that actually gave a shit about you abandoned you. You think he actually wants you around his sister and nephews?"

It hits him so hard he nearly loses his balance, nearly misses the fact that she used his last name. He's nodding again, hoping it can mask the hurt. "Heard that before."

"Why do you even bother coming?" She cries, banging the glass on the railing. Her feet sway, and he's glad he had given her just a bit less than himself, not knowing how his special liquor would affect her.

He doesn't say anything, instead watches her, now fully turning to face her. She wants to hurt him? Go ahead, he can take it.

"You come here and hang out with people that don't even want you here, that know you're dangerous." She seethes, and he pales because he didn't know she was trying to kill him, not hurt. "You're dangerous, more than anything I could've cooked up, and you're alone. So do us all a goddamn favor and fuck. Off."

His chest aches. Wanda had never been this cruel, even when he'd pushed her. She'd never looked so dead while still breathing, and it hurts him that he only feels anything but the numbness when she's around. She chases the numbness away; and now, he's raw and exposed, her words slitting his wrists.

"Why are you here then?" He challenges, loading his weapons. "Crying on the steps for things that are a fantasy. Vision is dead. Just because you have powers to create some dumby version, doesn't mean its actually him. You're fucking alone too."

She's moving on him so fast he barely registered, her finger jabbing into his chest. "Don't compare me to something as lowly as yourself." She stabs her finger again. "We're nothing alike."

He's proud of himself for getting that reaction, for being able to crack that hard exterior. He knows it's hard because he's constructed one for himself.

She's so close he can see the flecks in her eyes. "What, you think just because you apologized that mind-controlling an entire town doesn't ostracize you? Your reputation has gone to nothing." He drops his head, and he can feel her breath on his face. "Almost like me." He says quietly.

She smacks him hard, her wrist colliding with his cheek and his head whips back. He lets her continue her assault. Lips in a tight line, she hits him again, this time her hands in fists land on his chest.

"Fuck you." She's panting, her brow furrowed as she hits him again and again. Her limbs must be exhausted, because her speed digresses, but her strength continues, hands and fists landing on his chest, shoulders and face. His eyes sting, the heat shooting across his face, his scruff scratching her palm.

He gives her an enraged look as she continues her outpour, shooting a hand out to grip her. Holding her by the shoulders, he flips them, hitting her back against the wall of Sam's porch. Her head cracks against the panels.

"You fucking coward." He seethes. He would never hit her, no matter how much she pushes him. Real men don't put their hands on women.

"Get off of me!" She screams, the music drowning her out, and he shakes her. She hits him, this time in the side, but he's unmoving, her fists turning white in frustration.

"Calm down." He instructs, and she gives him a wild look, her eyes tinged red. Leg raising, she knees him in the groin.

"Let me go. Let me fucking go," she growls at him. He inhales harshly, losing his breath as pain spikes all over him. He leans his weight on her, preventing her from moving, and puts his chin on top of her head.

"You're a fucking bitch." He gasps, trying to ease through the pain. She gasps at his language, and juts her shoulder against his.

"Don't make me hurt you-"

"Shut the fuck up."

"Don't you ever-"

"Fucking shut up!"

His chest vibrates against hers, and she doesn't respond. He's glowing in the fact that she's at a loss for words. They're both breathing heavy and he inhales deeply, accidentally catching her scent.

Cinnamon, with a touch of cherries.

"Get your hands off me." She warns. Removing his chin from her head, he looks down at her. She stares right back, jutting her face defiantly, eyes rimmed with a red that wasn't from crying. Their noses brush.

"Are you going to be good?" He mummers, voice dangerously low, and her eyes widen.

Her jaw opens to say something, then closes, opening one more time before she snaps it shut, and her eyes are wild, like they've been touched by the sun itself.

Her mouth is on his, connecting them, and she's patient, waiting for him to decide if he in fact, wants her to be kissing him.

He's frozen, in shock or fear he's not sure. She had been moments away from killing him, and now she's trying to force her tongue into his mouth.

He pulls away, brows etched in confusion, and they stare at one another before she drops her eyes, embarrassment oozing from every pore.

"Sorry," she huffs. "I didn't mean it. Got lost in it. I'm sorry."

He's the opposite of sorry. He's vastly annoyed that she's trying to take back the most meaningful thing thats happened to him in years. That kiss made stopping the Flagsmashers seem like child's play in levels of importance.

He straightens, still slightly aching in his groin, and grips her shoulders lightly. "I'm not."

He places his lips onto hers, fast. Their teeth clink, and he puts all his wanting into the kiss. Years of pining, all colliding into a single moment. He kisses her with heat, desire flowing from his mouth and pouring into hers, firing through his veins. When she lights up, it's nearly electric, and he's amazed he can feel it.

Her aggravation and anxiety push her actions forward harshly, pressing into him as her hands grip his jacket, pulling him to her, chests flush.

They kiss as if they've been drowning, and finally have surfaced for air. He lets go of her shoulders, instead wrapping around her waist, the other hand in her hair. Licking her bottom lip, she drops her mouth open, their tongues sliding against one another, and it's everything he'd ever thought he could never have. She was a prize he'd never been able to afford, yet she was unwrapping herself like a present to him.

He says a silent prayer to whatever being is listening, thanking them for not forgetting him this time.

Tugging her hair slightly, she moans, the sound vibrating against his mouth, and he moves down to her neck, sucking and kissing her skin. His other arm squeezes her tightly, can feel her bones beneath the layers of clothing. Her hand fists his shirt, knuckles brushing against his stomach. She's warm, scorching, the trace of her fingers burning him and he adores the sensation.

He pushes them back against the wall further, crushing her against it but she doesn't complain. He bites her lightly, just below the ear, and she sighs heavily. Pulling him by the back of his hair, she tugs him to her face, pressing her mouth to his, nipping at his bottom lip. He groans, the taste of copper at the tip of his tongue, and she sucks on his lip.

His stomach rolls in turned-on anticipation.

Hiking his knee, Bucky places it between her thighs, locking her against the wall. He lifts slightly, rubbing against her, not enough for her to get off but enough that it makes her whimper.

"Oh god." She whispers, separating from his mouth to squeeze her eyes shut, hands gripping his shirt and neck tightly.

"That what you like?" He says, dipping down to claim her mouth, moving his knee again. She groans again, hands shaking, and he takes it as a yes.

Lips unmoving, she slowly begins to grind down on his thigh, her hips moving in an enchanting pattern.

The kisses become deeper, more insistent, their bodies vibrating more than the music in the house. He's never felt so good. He wishes he could bottle it, store it for a rainy day.

Wandas tongue flicks against the roof of his mouth as she grinds down, a small yelp escaping and he swallows the sound.

"Shhh," he warns, although the sounds of the music and people inside drowns her expressions immediately. "Wouldn't want to scar the festive-goers."

She ignores him, moving against his thigh again, and he places his hands in her hair, yanking her head back. Licking a line up her jaw, his flattens his tongue, tasting her skin. He returns to the same wet area, placing open-mouthed kisses.

He can feel her hands tremble as she undoes the lowest button on his top, and his brain ticks. He wants her to continue, wants to rid himself of his clothing and feel her hands all over him. Wants to remove her clothing, and kiss every inch.

But not like this.

The liquor is apparent on her tongue, her sweet aroma tinged with it, and he slowly eases his grip on her hair. Presses a light kiss to her mouth, her cheek. Nips at her ear then returns to her lip, slowing her movements. She's still working at his top, the second one undone now, and it takes all of his strength to break his mouth away from hers.

They're so close they bump noses, her breath fanning across his face. He cups her face, momentarily worried she'll pull away. Her green eyes are sparkling, littered with slight confusion, and he knows he shouldn't stare but he can't help it. He may never get to look at her like this again; undone, guards lowered.

Her fingers are still on his shirt, and she leans forward. He shakes his head, before placing a slow kiss to her mouth.

"Not tonight, little witch." He whispered against her lips. Her eyebrows lift, and he lets himself fall once more, kissing her again. She throws her velocity at him, but he holds her in place, keeps the kiss slow, meaningful. Runs a thumb just below her eye.

And then he lets her go.

He gives her a lopsided smile that she doesn't return, slipping his hands in his pockets before he ambles away, fingers brushing on the keys inside his jacket.

Bucky doesn't look back at her, isn't sure he can handle whatever expression she was wearing. As he starts his bike, he licks his lips. Whatever had been on her mouth was now on his, tasting of cherries. He'd never really been fond of cherries; they were definitely his favorite fruit now. He starts the ignition, and begins the ride home, slowing down after a few miles to breath.