Flowers in Your Hair [Hippie!Bucky BarnesxOC]

Chapter 3: Everybody Get Together

*Content Warning: Drug use [marijuana, LSD], Bucky gets a little horny, Mickey Henry as young Bucky because AHHH.*

November 24, 1963

Celeste's apartment, NYC

"Hey, mama," Celeste sighed into the phone. "Thanks for picking up." She wound the phone cord around her finger, dread filling her stomach. The bed was soft beneath her, textbooks and papers scattered across the bedspread.

"Of course, kiddo. I'm excited to see you this weekend." There was a brightness in her voice that made Celeste's stomach shrink even more- knowing the news she was going to deliver.

"About that, mama..." she paused. Tears filled her eyes, but didn't spill over. She felt guilt bubble up in her throat. Maybe it was bile, though. With Celeste, there was a good chance it was both. Guilt was what she felt the most of, and the most often.

"What's going on, love? Everything alright?" She could hear clinking in the background, followed by nothing but the sound of her breathing. Mom was so good about putting down whatever she was doing to be there for the people she loved. Presence. It was truly her gift unto others.

The words came out in a burst. "I don't think I can make it home for Thanksgiving, mama. I'm so sorry- I just-" The tears escaped, and Celeste couldn't stop them any longer.

"Kiddo," mom said gently. Sobs racked her body as she held the phone against her ear, listening to mom's steady breathing.

"Hey, Celeste," mom sang. "Listen to me. It's okay! I'll come into Manhattan!" Celeste's chest heaved with guilt. Another sob. "Mama, you can't, all the kids will-" She pictured their faces, filled with disappointment. Especially Val.

"The kids have Bruce, you know he'd love to curate the entire Thanksgiving dinner by himself," mom reassured. She could hear the smile in her voice, despite the 250 miles between them. Another sob, this one coming from somewhere deeper in the young girl's chest. "Celeste, I'd love to come visit you," the angel on the other line cooed.

She continued to cry, feeling some of the guilt wash away. Mom's words were soothing. Like a favorite song playing on Bruce's old Dansette record player- "It sounds like you have a lot of weight on you right now."

Familiar. Like rain falling against the windshield of the bus while Steve drove, and she was squished on the bench between Bucky and Val- "It'll be nice to get some mama and baby time in the city."

Comforting. Like rolling over in the morning and finding her pillow still smelled like Val's shampoo. "Thank you, mama," she whispered into the phone.

"Of course, kiddo," mom said. "It's Sunday. Get some rest, make a cup of tea. Kiss a boy. Or a girl!" Celeste's sob turned into a laugh, which she choked out through tears. "Smoke a joint, I don't care how you do it- I want you to take care of yourself today."