The Collection- Bucky Barnes

Just Friends iii: September

"What do you think?"

It's a nice house. A really nice house. Three bedrooms and three and a half baths, just like he said. A beautiful kitchen that gazes out over an even more beautiful backyard. Thirty minutes out of the city, it isn't crowded by loud neighbors. Just the kind of house she's always imagined raising a family in.

"It's..." Nice was too simple. Perfect too much, even though it was perfect. There isn't a word to describe her thought of the house. Other than I want to raise our child here. We'll bring our daughter from the hospital to this house.

Birthday parties out in the backyard. Preparations for school bake sales in the kitchen. Their girl's first steps in the living room. Teaching her to swim with those cute-ass water wing arm floats in the pool. The three of them sitting around a square-shaped dining table every night for dinner. Walkers and jumpers and toys scattered all over because their daughter wouldn't want for anything. A picture for every year of her life above the sofa (probably more than knowing them).

An entire life laid out in mint fucking vision for Jules to see. For her to crave and want so badly her heart ached.

"You hate it." Bucky's shoulders deflated.

Jules shakes her head quickly, grabbing on to his hand. She looks at the realtor, a man Bucky calls Mack, who reminds her a lot of Sam. "Could we see the second bedroom again?"

Mack is seemingly more optimistic about her views than Bucky. As he leads them back to the second floor where two of the bathrooms and all three bedrooms reside, Bucky has lost all his optimistic airs. The door to the second room had been left cracked open from their first venture inside; Mack pushed it all the way open and stood back for them to go in.

Jules all but dragged Bucky in to the middle of the room. Ample closet size for the plenty of clothes their girl was sure to have (between the two of them and a whole team of superheroes and friends, she'd have more clothes than days in the year). The room is smaller than the master, but just barely bigger than the third. With a curved bow window, Jules can easily imagine padding the bench with cushions for a soft place to read, complete with a view of the expansive backyard.

"I'm thinking we paint the walls a muted grey color. Almost a very soft purple, yeah?" She whispers, wrapping her arm around his. She leans her head on his shoulder. "One of those white oval cribs," she gestures to the corner, "there. With a translucent canopy over it."

She knows his eyes are on her before she meets his gaze. She smiles softly before he turns his attention to the room. He takes a minute to picture all she's laid out.

"You think?" He murmurs.

"Uh-huh," she replies just as softly, "perfect room for a nursery."

His head is heavy rested against hers. He lets out a gentle smile at the future they've pieced together. She can see it all forming in his mind. The nursery, the birthday parties and the first steps. Eighteen years gone before they've even started.

"You two are expecting?" Mack echoes from the hall.

Jules nods wordlessly, "I'll be fourteen weeks tomorrow." Trimester number two!

"How wonderful! Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Barnes! This will be the perfect house to start and raise your family in!"

It takes a second for either of them to latch on to his sentiment, both lost and enraptured in the bliss of what's to come. Jules catches it first, the off-hand remark. Mr. and Mrs. Barnes. Something they are not.

"Oh," Jules turns to look at the realtor. "We're not...We aren't together." So taken over by her insistence she doesn't feel Bucky stiffen next to her. "Just two friends having a baby together."