The glimpses into a life Bucky never thought was possible for himself. A world where he would find someone who he could love and be loved in return - a person he could start a family with. This is how an ex-assassin navigates the world of parenthood.
Summary: And he thinks to himself, maybe this is the home he had been searching for all this time.
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Growing up, Bucky had always pictured himself in a Brownstone. Some pretty little thing for a wife, kids running around their feet, sweet smells coming from the kitchen after a long day of work, and all of them crammed together in an idealistic dream of a home. These plans changed, naturally, after he fell off a train in Austria. And after spending two years on the run, some time in cryo, and five years being listed as dead, these things weren't really in his mind as a realistic opportunity.
And then he met you while taking over on a SHIELD stakeout. You seemed to keep running into each other over the next few months. Always managing to dish out a snarky comment his way. It had shocked him at first, then he warmed up to them - even managing to smile after the fifth meeting.
"Oh, sure. Now they bring in the real heroes after we've done all the grunt work. Shall I roll out the red carpet for you?" Always said with a smile and a playful look in your eyes; never hard or callous.
Even within the organization, he was used to people giving him that look. As if he couldn't be trusted after all this time. After the removal of the trigger words, the months of therapy, the whole saving the world thing; he was still just an ex-HYDRA assassin in some people's eyes.
It had been on a mission in Vietnam, tracking down a section of A.I.M., that you had met up once again. Sitting in the crowded outdoor restaurant, passing off the relevant information to him over a bowl of pho and a plate of greasy spring rolls. Before you left, you had given the off-handed comment of how he now owed you a drink, since you had gone to the trouble of ordering food as a cover.
It had taken another three months before he was able to bring himself to follow up on that.
You got the apartment together not long after. Just a studio in the Heights. And it's not exactly like he had anything to bring into it. No furniture to speak of and only a handful of clothes and small mementos. He relied entirely on you for decorating. You made that place feel like home so damn fast. Not that Bucky knew what his definition of home was before that. He had walked the streets one day and found that his childhood home had been replaced by an upscale hotel.
Home was a difficult word to define these days. He lived at the compound upstate. He had a bed and a closet, there were pillows and sheets and a rug. But that wasn't home. Of course, he could be a sap about it and say wherever you were he would have his home. Whatever you managed to do to this little studio, that was it. His ticket, right there. A big neon sign in the fog screaming this is what a home should be.
Maybe a bit of it was disillusioned puppy love within those first few months. He would run off on missions with Sam or disappear for a stretch of time in an undisclosed location. While you transferred over to the local SHIELD branch operating out of Brooklyn. You'd eat pizza on the floor, got him to try out the Thai place down the street, even convinced him to eat some gluten-free all-vegan crap.
