Two Sides of The Same Coin: Grumpy x Sunshine

We Were Happy

Moving Day...

"Is this everything?" Bucky questions, looking at your 3 boxes. Even seeing your minimalist room, he was taken aback by your lack of material possessions that rivaled his own lack of personal property. When Sam called him over this morning, he fully expected to be rooms full of moving boxes and furniture, but there was nothing of the sort, just over a dozen moving boxes.

"That's everything," Sam confirms, neatly stacking the last box in the living room. "Most of this stuff came with the house. And she doesn't have a lot."

"No kidding," Bucky mutters.

"Well, it's not exactly like I'm a great person for shopping for women's clothes," Sam huffs defensively "I do my best."

"I didn't say you didn't. Just surprised, I guess," Bucky shrugs.

"Told you there's a lot you don't know," Sam reminds him. "When we moved in here she had nothing except the poorly-fitting SHIELD sweater on her back. And I'm not exactly a millionaire either."

"What does that matter?"

"I know you're old and everything, but there's this thing called money? It's a finite resource that you need to buy things nowadays."

"Don't be a smart-ass," Bucky grumbles. "I meant her."

"You're asking me about her finances?" Sam questions in disbelief.

Bucky scoffs, rolling his eyes. "No. I just meant- Doesn't she get paid for... anything? She's going on missions all the time- that can't be out of the kindness of her heart."

Sam chuckles bitterly. "You'd be surprised- Hold on, are you asking to be nosy or as a concerned friend?"

"Mmm...depends on the answer."

"No, to answer your question. The missions, the work- they don't give her anything. I get a shitty stipend for some of her basic expenses, but even that they put under my name."

"There's no way that's legal," Bucky says, his voice filled with indignation.

"Probably not. But there's nothing I can do about it, there's nothing tangible about her. She's a ghost- if we didn't know her personally, we'd have no idea that she exists. No birth certificate, no social security number, nothing, and they're dragging their feet doing anything about it."

"You think they're doing it on purpose," Bucky concludes, seeing the look on Sam's face that shows just how much the situation bothers him.

Sam shrugs. "Don't know. All I know is right now, she's not a person. She's an asset. A valuable asset."

"And you think they want to keep her that way," Bucky finishes for Sam.

"Fury wants her to be an Avenger. Officially an Avenger, I mean. And to do that, SHIELD would have to give up it's most valuable asset, give up any claim to her that they have."

"You make it sound like she's a toy," Bucky scoffs.

"It's not that," Sam assures Bucky. "There's just something about this whole thing that just doesn't sit right with me. It's wrong- no rights, no protection, nothing. And she's out there putting her life on the line."

"And with a smile on her face," Bucky mumbles.

Sam nods once. "Exactly."

"Are you guys done talking about me?" you ask, walking back through the door with a drink tray in your hand.

"What makes you think we're talking about you?" Sam asks, looking away from Bucky, who's still processing everything he'd just learned. Just like that: a few answers, dozens more questions. An endless cycle when it came to you.

"You sent me to get coffee. Alone. Duh," you state like it's completely obvious.

"So? Your arm's still messed up and you can't carry anything."

"But you never send me anywhere alone. Ever. You barely leave me alone as it is."

"She's got you there," Bucky chuckles.

"Shut up," Sam hisses, then turns back to you. "We weren't talking about you."

"You're right, James. He's not a very good liar," you say, placing down the drinks on the counter.

"Told you," Bucky shrugs, walking over to grab his drink.

"Anyway, here's your drinks. Cold brew for James. And a deceptively delicious looking green smoothie for Sam, and a iced tea for me."

And before you know it, all the boxes are packed up and you're standing alone in the place where you'd made so many cherished memories. "I'm going to miss it here," you sigh to yourself as you look at the mostly empty house.

Sam throws an arm around you, not having heard your quiet rumination. "You're probably the best roommate I ever had."

"You're only saying that because I can cook," you chuckle.

"You cooked, I cleaned. It was a pretty good arrangement we had here."

"It was," you sadly agree. You were going to miss this place. You'd miss all the fun moments and memories you'd made here, but just like most things this wasn't really up to you. You knew that, even if most people thought you didn't. Sam tried to give you choices when he could, but a lot of the time, it wasn't even up to him. You two were answering to some distant, intangible organization that practically owned you.

"Don't worry too much," Sam says, addressing your silent concerns. "They'll love you, but even if they don't- I've got your back."

And you keep those words in your mind as you drive away from the first place you'd ever called home to something totally new.

"Welcome to our new home," Sam says, after a mostly silent drive as the car stops pulling up right in front of the large, modern building. "It's going to be great."

"It's going to be great," you repeat, though you're not entirely convinced. There's this strange feeling, the tiniest piece of you filled with dread. You were quick to shake it off, you exhale deeply once before plastering a smile on your face just hoping that they couldn't see right through you.