Frostbite |The Alternate Timeline

Only Once

Two Months Prior

"Who the hell is that?" Bucky exclaimed, thrashing his arms around in aggravation. I chuckled, remaining at the stove. I could still see the television screen from my spot. If I never cooked, I doubted Bucky would make it very long. He was still refreshing his brain on that particular set of skills. There had been many burnt meals in the process.

I gave him a look and said, "I told you- they aren't going to be like the book exactly. There are three movies based on one short book. You can't expect it to be word for word."

His head rolled towards me, his mouth twisting as he spoke, "I know that; I just don't remember either of these elves being mentioned."

"I'm surprised you can remember that far back at all," I snorted, earning an eye roll, "-And that's because they weren't in it. They were added in."

He sighed, but kept his eyes glued to the tv. As much as he complained throughout the first one I figured he wouldn't want to finish the trilogy. He had insisted, though, which convinced me he was actually loving them; he was just being Bucky.

When I had mentioned the sequels to the original Tolkien work, he had been all over it. Apparently, it had been one of his favorite books- and he had read a lot of them. I had come home one day to him sprawled out with the Lord of the Rings books, binge reading them. He had raved about them for days to my amusement. Steve had mentioned how much of a nerd Bucky had been, but it was nice seeing that it had stayed with him.

A few days later, I had come home with all six movies and I swore he was going to swoon at the sight. He had demanded we watch them immediately. We had made it through the Lord of the Rings trilogy and finished the first Hobbit the day before. I was just glad there was something positive from his past that he could still enjoy now.

"I could help you know," he told me once again, eyeing me from his position on the couch.

"Don't worry about it," I shrugged, my lips twitching at the thought of the two of us trying to maneuver around each other. It would likely be a disaster. He knew what I was thinking and shook his head in amusement.

I set the bottle of cooking sherry down, my attention snagged by the movie and I moved around the island. Bucky chuckled as the barrel scene commenced; one of my favorites. I hovered there for awhile, momentarily forgetting about the food on the stove.

An odd noise caught my attention and my head whipped back to the kitchen. Cursing loudly, I darted back to the stove, praying I hadn't burned anything. The unattended chicken had already darkened more than I intended. Trying to salvage it, I quickly moved items out of the way. I picked up the bottle of sherry, and it exploded unexpectedly, the sound louder than expected.

"Shit!" I yelped, jerking my hand as the shards went everywhere. Of course, my hand had been over the stove as it happened, so the liquid spilled over the stove top. It splashed into the pan and over the surface of the gas burners. I hated this old house.

Bucky's head snapped in my direction as flames leapt up violently, engulfing the corner of the stove. They licked my arm momentarily, and I dropped the bottle, in surprise. Before it got out of control, I quickly swept my arm over the fire, ice covering every possible surface.

Immediately, Bucky was at my side. The kitchen was a mess; I was a mess, and dinner was ruined. I waited for a snarky comment, but none came to my surprise. He reached out for my arm, and I hissed, noticing just how bad it was. There were several deep lacerations across my forearms and an angry red splotch covered a large portion of one arm.

"Christ, Melanie. Do you need me to take you to the emergency room?" he offered, using a towel to staunch some of the blood.

I winced, replying, "I'm fine. I'm just an idiot who left the bottle right next to the stove."