Picture is Bucky and Emma.
Music is "For All We Know" by Nat King Cole.
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CHAPTER EIGHT: We'll Meet Again
"What do I tell them?" I ask Bucky, laying in his arms.
The early Friday morning air comes through the slightly opened window. It's been broken for months, and we haven't had the money to fix it, so Bucky and I simply cuddle close for warmth during the winter months.
If it weren't for the impending doom that awaits us today in mere hours, this scene might be one I'd want to keep forever. Bucky lays on the mattress in only a pair of cotton pants, his hair a mess, leaning his head on his hand, elbow propping it up. His fingers run little patterns over my shoulders as we talk. I don't even think he notices that he does it.
I lay right beside him, snuggled under the covers in a large, grey T-shirt of his. It was always his favorite, but he's says he likes it better on me. My hair is a mess as well; my perfect pin curls from last night have dropped out, becoming long and loose again. My hands play with his Sergeant's hat, looking it over, running my hands along the edge.
"Tell what to who?" Bucky asks in a whisper, kissing my shoulder.
I sigh and let the cap drop to my tummy, folding my hands on top of it. "Steve and Rose. What do I tell them if..." I clear my throat before I continue. "Do you want me to tell them the truth about being drafted?"
Bucky shakes his head. "No. I want them to be left with a brother who didn't run away from duty. They deserve that."
"They deserve the truth, too, Bucky," I reply, looking up at him.
He sighs, closing his eyes. "Please, Em. Just do this for me?"
I nod, not bothering to speak again.
Bucky gazes down at me, mix of love and regret in his eyes. "I love you, future Mrs. Barnes."
That last part makes me grin like an idiot. "You have to come back now. You have to make good on that promise." I hold up the ring on my left hand and twirl it so it shines. It's a very classy style with a simple, round diamond that sits in a carved band that's not quite gold, but not quite silver either.
He smiles back and chuckles, kissing my nose. "I will. This will just give you some time to plan the wedding. Invite anyone you want. Ask for anythin' you want." He takes my left hand in his right and clasps our hands together, fingers intertwining.
"I really don't care about the wedding now. It seems kind of insignificant compared to being your wife."
Bucky leans down and kisses me, smiling into it. "All the same, anythin' you want. I mean it, Doll."
"I love you, too," I whisper, kissing him back. "I hope you know we're going to write you every day."
"I'll do my best to write back," Bucky replies, kissing my cheeks.
"You better," I mumble, taking my hand from his and placing both hands on either side of his face. "Rose might kill you."
He chuckles and sighs, running his finger over my waist. His eyes move away from mine, looking concerned. "Emma..." He trails off.
My brows pull together as I run my fingers across his face, trying to memorize it. "Yes?"
He closes his eyes, tightly, looking like a man in pain. "You need to promise me somethin', and I really don't want to have to ask, but I feel I have to."
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