still friends

Chapter 4: Worth the Wait

May 6th, 2026

He had been dreading the night for nearly two weeks before its arrival. Bucky had known every time Sam sent out an invite text, that he would do the civil thing and attend. It didn't mean that he wanted to.

He knew the moment he saw her, he'd want to bury his face in her hair and never let her go.

He arrived before her. Upon entering, Bucky was greeted by a lightly intoxicated Shuri, her once braided hair now loose and large, the curls covering her forehead.

"Where've you been, white boy?" She chirped, her smile wide. "The party started like an hour ago."

"No, you just got here an hour early and instantly attacked my booze." Sam called from somewhere in the kitchen and Bucky granted them with one of his rare smiles.

"It's good to see you, I'm glad I could actually make it this year." Shuri said as they entered the kitchen. Sam had a wash rag draped over his shoulder, intently attacking a block of ice with a pick.

"It's been a long time." Bucky commented, and Sam laid down the pick.

"A long time?" He inquired, cocking his head. "I haven't seen this man since my last party, and even then it was barely for an hour. What's your poison tonight?"

Bucky shrugged, and gestured his chin to the bottle of Hennessy. "I'm a busy guy. And I'll take that."

Sam poured him a glass, handing it to him with one ice cube, before the door opened and more people entered. Bucky held the glass close, nodding politely to his coworkers, answering the uninterested 'how are yous' before he eventually made his way to his spot on the porch.

She still wasn't there, and he wondered if she would be coming at all. He hadn't heard much of her the last year. She seemed to be just as under the radar as him.

And when he saw the blur of orange hair, his face immediately heating up. She exits her car, this time she's dressed in overalls, a cream sweater beneath it, her hair in a pony tail, and she's carry a plate of fruit.

They make eye contact a few paces before the steps, and she visibly swallows as she climbs them, pausing next time him, in front of the door.

"Happy end game." She says, a tight smile on her face.

He can only nod in the awkwardness of it all, and she enters the house. The music has already started, the sound of Clints' cheering and Sams' laughing echos in Buckys' ears.

He takes a sip, then another, gazing out at the porch, the water, the old sail boat moving like a lonely captain.

The screen door creaks as she opens it, then slams back into place as she releases it. She stands on the opposite side of the door, mimics his stance as she leans and its quiet between them.

Her shoulders are tight; he can tell when he looks to his right at her. She seems to be lost in thought, and his staring goes unnoticed. She's the most beautiful when she thinks she's alone. It looks like her hairs been cut, the tendrils not as long as he remembered. Her eyes, the green emeralds, are bright, unfocused, arms crossed over her stomach. The rays from the porch light bounce off her cheeks and hair, and she's almost shining. Lips parted, he stares at them unabashedly, wishing he could kiss them again, part them, nip them.

He stares at her but it makes him realize he'll never have her; not in the way he wants. He'll never be good enough for her, and he'll never get to prove that fact otherwise.
Won't ever be able to hold her, cherish her. Never love her.

"Didn't your mother teach you not to stare?"

His cheeks heat instantly, turning his eyes away and clears his throat, trying to find something new to look at.