THEIR WALK BACK TO THE DOCK was a lot more uncomfortable this time. Not that they both had the most pleasant walks, but this was colder. Steve didn't know if it was just because of the weather (but it was the same this morning?).

Certainly, their walk earlier was just as strange, but this time, the gap they shared seemed a little wider. Much wider. For reasons Steve didn't know, Natasha was surprisingly quiet, which means less irritating, but he can't say that it didn't make him curious.

"So, it was nice to see Peggy, huh?"

Steve almost stops, looking at her in slight puzzlement at the random remark. If this was her idea of small talk, it was quite... unusual. "Yeah," he only nods, unsure of the answer she's expecting to hear.

"She looked really pretty today."

As if this conversation couldn't get any weirder, it does. Steve glanced over his right side, trying to catch a hint of a teasing smirk on her expression, but was more confused to find nothing. Natasha was genuinely making that compliment.

He tries not to let his confusion show and settles for a feeble smile. "Yeah, she did." Shoving his hands inside his pockets, he finds the ground more interesting.

"Must be nice to see each other and catch up."

Steve knows it's a compliment, but the way the statement rolls off her mouth makes it seem anything but that. He doesn't want to put more thought into it, but he's known Natasha for years and knows when something's up. Or wrong.

And the way she says it... it just sounds hollow. Bored. Forced?

Whatever it is, though, he doesn't pry because he knows that if Natasha wants to talk about something, she'd be the one breaking down her walls willingly, not letting him do it for her. That's just the kind of girl she is; he respected that.

So, he doesn't ask her about it and, instead, mind his own business.

After their little (awkward) walk and exchange, they headed back home. On the way to the house, Steve was surprised to see a sudden visitor parading on their front porch. He squints his eyes, trying to make out their faces. When he recognizes who it is, elation erupts across his features. "Bucky?"

Sure enough, Bucky turns around and waves a hand over to them. "Hey, Stevie!"

"Bucky!" Steve exclaims, going over to his side to greet him with a hug. "What are you doing here? Your mom says you were stationed in Vienna."

"Well, they gave me some time off. Besides, I couldn't miss seeing you finally get hitched to a real dame, huh?" Bucky remarks teasingly, muttering, "I told you not to do anything stupid until I get back."

Steve scoffs with a laugh. "How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you."

Bucky rolls his eyes. "You're a punk."

"Jerk." Steve sighs, clasping his shoulder. "It is good to see you, Buck."

"Yeah, I know. I know. I've been missing Connacht too. Mom's been nagging me to come visit. She thinks it's easy to sail home when I'm stationed halfway across the world." Bucky retorts.

Steve chuckles, shrugging. "Well, mothers." He looks behind him and gently ushers Natasha to his side. "Oh, uh. Anyway, Bucky, this is my fiancee, Natasha Romanoff. Natasha, this is James Barnes."

Bucky flashes her a charming grin, tipping his head courteously as if he were wearing his navy hat. "How do you do?"

Natasha shyly smiles, finding herself swooning over his charm. Was being attractive some sort of thing here in Connacht? Because everyone she's met so far was incredibly good-looking. "Nice to meet you, Sergeant Barnes."

"Please, call me Bucky." Bucky insists, "How on earth did Steve manage to snatch up someone like you, let alone in New York?"

Steve rolls his eyes while Natasha only laughs softly. Nevertheless, both turn red at the statement. Whether they genuinely feel embarrassed or guilty is something they'll never know for sure. Probably both.

"Is that your indirect way of saying I'm pretty?" Natasha plays along.

Steve snorts, interjecting, "No, that's his weird way of flirting with my fiancée."

My fiancée.

There it was again. Such a simple statement already made Natasha's stomach warm. Filled it with butterflies she didn't even know she could ever have.

Bucky starts laughing. "Seriously, Natasha, if you've seen Steve back when he was only like this tall–"

"Alright, Buck, you've had your fun."

"He was just this scrawny little kid–"

"Hey, let's play some golf! You want to play golf? Come on. Loser has to run across the island." Steve interrupts, striding away before Bucky can even get a word in.

"But I'm not yet done telling the story!" Bucky calls out.

"I am!" Steve yells back.

Natasha laughs, shaking her head. "Maybe next time," she tells Bucky.

"Definitely." Bucky winks. "You coming?"

Natasha contemplates her answer momentarily before settling with a shake of her head. "Nah, I think I'm just gonna head up and see if Sarah and Gammy need something."

"You sure? I'd love for you to see me beat Steve's ass in golf."

Natasha chuckles. "Maybe next time."

Bucky smiles. "Okay. It was nice to meet you, Natasha. And congratulations." He says before following Steve.

Bucky can't exactly remember the last time he played golf with Steve or anyone, but it's definitely been a while. And something as simple as this is already enough to bring back a truckload of memories that he was surprised to remember up to this day.

"I'm impressed to know that you still play golf," Steve remarks, picking up a golf club and tossing it to him.

Bucky catches it with ease. "I could say the same for you. I thought you didn't like golf even before."

"Yeah, well, baseball's a lot more fun to watch. Especially when the Dodgers are playing against the Yankees. The whole game's a blast, not to mention the hotdogs they serve taste pretty good, too. I can't say the same for golf." Bucky suddenly chuckles, and Steve turns to him, confused, "What?"

"Nothing, you just..." Bucky shakes his head. "You awfully sound like a New Yorker."

Steve's face broke into a smile. "That bad, huh?"

"I didn't say that–"

"Well, it kind of sounds like that's what you're saying–"

"I'm not!" Bucky dissuades, yet a wide smile still plastered on his face. "It's not a bad thing, just different." He adds after a pause, "as well as your taste in women."

Steve groans, placing the golf ball into position on the ground. "Don't start."

"Uh, I think I already did," Bucky smirks as Steve swings his arm to hit the ball. Off it went. Fortunately, it went straight into the hole instead of the water. "Damn. Do you have to be good at everything?"

Steve snorts. "I hope my dad sees it that way too."

It was Bucky's turn to take a shot. "You guys still aren't getting along, huh?" he assumes.

Steve raises his brows in agreement. "Barely. He disapproves of my job and he disapproves of Natasha, so that's that." But he suddenly remembers his sudden change in perspective regarding the whole situation this morning. "I think my mom's making him warm up to the idea."

"Of the job or your bride-to-be?"

"Both?"

Bucky swings his club out, the golf ball landing just a few inches from the hole. "Damn," he mutters under his breath, taking another ball from the pile. "Why doesn't he like her? She seems nice." He shoots him a smirk. "And hot."

Steve sighs, ignoring his latter comment. "She's smart."

"And that's bad, why?"

"Not for me. For him. He knows he can't use her to talk me into taking up the family business."

"And... is Peggy any different?"

Steve pauses, silence falling over them for a moment before he speaks again. "Peggy is different. We have history. My folks and her folks have history. The list goes on. Of course, my dad would want her for me."

Bucky hums. "I don't mean to pry, even though I actually mean to pry. And this may sound weird for you to answer so you don't have to answer it, but I actually want you to answer it–"

"What?" Steve interrupts, grumbling.

"I never thought you'd find the right one in New York." Bucky reckons. "I'm happy for you, really, I am. It's just that... I honestly thought it was always you and Peggy."

Steve glances at him, a sad look lingering in his eyes, almost as if he's remembering a distant memory. "I thought so too." He shakes his head. "But some ships aren't meant to sail, I guess."

"And are you sure she knows that?" Bucky asks carefully.

Steve laughs, amused. "I'm pretty sure telling her I'm getting married qualifies for an answer." He hits the golf ball. It lands on the water this time.

Bucky shrugs. "I'm just saying. I mean, the last time you two saw each other, you proposed to her with a ring, and the next time you saw each other, you brought a different girl home with a ring on her finger. So, where's the closure in that?"

"We don't need one." Steve dismisses, "We're cool."

Bucky snorts. "Yeah, sure. That'll do. I'm going to pretend you're not a terrible liar."

Steve sighs, looking at him sharply. "Buck, drop it. Whatever Peggy and I had, it's over. And, yeah, I'm not going to lie when I tell you it's still uncomfortable between us, and I don't know if we're ever going to be friends 'friends' again, but that's all that can happen."

And it should be the end of his speech because he got across the point he's trying to make. He's over Peggy now, and he's perfectly fine with where he is.

But what surprises him most was what he said next,

"Besides, I have Natasha now."

Steve tries to convince himself that he's saying this only for show. He knows that they both need to use their best acting skills to convince his family and friends that what he and Natasha had was the real deal. So, it's the truth that he tries to stick with.

But deep down, he knew another reason made him say this.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Natasha went back to their room after a tiresome walk. She needed to sort her feelings out and get her head straight again, and spending more time with Steve wouldn't help that. She needed to be alone.

"Okay, Natasha. Get yourself together. This is just a business deal. This is just a business deal. Okay," she tells herself repeatedly, pacing back and forth.

She sits on the bed and groans, throwing her body back as she presses a hand to her face.

"What am I doing?" She groans.

Everything she was feeling lately started because of last night. Who knew that a simple conversation with Steve Rogers at night was enough to cause all sorts of things?

But it wasn't just a simple conversation. It was the first time she had opened up to someone like that. It was the first time she had let her guard down since her parents died. And it's still shocking to her how easily she had shared a part of herself with someone like Steve Rogers, who probably didn't even care, who was nothing more than just her assistant, and who was just kind enough to agree to this business deal with her not because for her sake, but for his.

So, why was she suddenly feeling warm and oozy inside whenever she was around him since this morning? It's like she suddenly sees him in a whole new light. And why did she - God forbid her for admitting this—suddenly feel a tinge of sadness when she saw Steve and Peggy talking earlier? Like, what the fuck was up with that?

She shakes her head at the dawning realization. "No, no." She grabs a pillow and screams through it. Don't tell me you're starting to fall for him for real, she thinks.

Natasha sits up straight, rubbing her face again before tossing the pillow to the side in frustration. It accidentally hits her bag over, spilling the contents on the floor. "Shit," she curses. She kneels on the floor to grab her stuff, reaching under the bed to fish out some of her makeup that had rolled over.

However, as she was searching for her things, her hand came in contact with a hard surface. She tried to pull it, but it was too heavy for one hand, so she bent over to pull it under the bed with full strength.

Once she finally got it out, she was surprised to see a box. A big, wooden box. No, wait, more like a trunk. It was blue and had an American flag sticker on the side.

She snorts, "Patriotic, much?"

Much to her confusion, it wasn't locked. She figured the stuff people put inside trunk boxes is often special, so it should be locked, but then again, this was Connacht. And this was the Rogers household. She shouldn't be surprised if they don't keep secrets from each other.

And with that thought, Natasha felt a sense of guilt crept up behind her again. What they were doing was seriously wrong, and does it even feel right anymore to go through with it? Knowing how wonderful these people are?

Well, people were right about calling her a monster. Or a devil. She deserved it.

Now, with this trunk in front of her, she has two options: she could open it and find out who it belongs to or leave it alone for the sake of privacy. She wasn't sure if it belonged to Steve; he was Irish at birth, but based on this sticker, it could also be said that he was an American at heart. She cringes, that sounded cheesy.

She lets her curiosity get better than her morals, so she chooses to open it.

As soon as she sees what's inside, her jaw drops open.