Recipe for Romance: A Bucky Barnes Story

17: Everything Has Changed

A/N: thanks everyone for reading!! Hope you all have a happy end of 2017 and a great start to 2018 tomorrow ❤️

Stevie Wonder sings from the speakers as I hustle to ready myself for another evening with Bucky Barnes. This one, though, is very different than the night that happened two days past or the episode in the kitchen yesterday morning. I haven't seen Bucky since that morning just after I'd sat with him on the tile and felt his cheek beneath my palm and his heartbeat through my fingertips. I doubt that's there's much more in this world sadder than the lost-puppy expression Bucky gains when he's deep in a flashback.

"Dammit." I draw myself out of my own thoughts when I drop my powder brush into the sink. I curse again to see that it's wet and practically useless now. I scrounge around the drawers for that old, crusty one from Walmart. I can't very well only use foundation on one side of my face, now can I?

It's not my fault that I'm so clumsy. The prospect of going out with Bucky tonight has only added to my poor grace. I've already stubbed a toe and burnt the tip of my ear with the curling iron.

It's ten minutes to five. Bucky said he'd be here at the hour. I'm running a tad behind (per usual) so I only hope he is as well...

"Miss Sadie, Sargent Barnes is at your door."

"Ah shit."

Friday speaks again. "Would you like me to send him away?"

I panic. "No! No, no, no. Please let him in. Just—just tell him I'll be out in a minute... or maybe two."

"Yes, Miss Sadie."

Above the soft volume music I hear my front door open and then close very gently. Bucky's footsteps are nearly silent against the hardwood but I know he's here.

"Sorry, Buck! Be out in a sec!" I call to him through the bathroom door.

"No worries, doll. Take your time."

Quickly I check over my reflection in the mirror. I have to look good. No; I have to look irresistible. My sweetest, most unrealistic dream is that this man takes a glance at me and gets just a FRACTION of the longing thoughts that I receive whenever in his presence. Goddamn, he's unreal: smart, handsome, brave, quick-witted, selfless... the list goes on and on. I could really ramble about him for hours, but I'll spare you the excess. You get the point—he's fucking perfect.

Well, minus the 70 years of brainwashed assassinations.

So... Besides that. But what he lacks in righteous back story he makes up for in pureness of heart. That's what I believe, and I will defend this statement to the end of the line.

One more spritz of honeysuckle perfume on my wrist and then I'm spraying just a bit more hairspray onto the curls I've got pinned up because I worked too damn hard on this hairdo for it to all just fall apart once we step outside into the moist air. I fiddle with the clasp of my pearl necklace, the very one that my mother gave me for my sixteenth birthday that matches the bracelet and the earrings I wear now too, and then slip into the black heels that do wondrous things to my legs and ass. Now that I look and smell great I imagine there's nothing keeping me away from Bucky any more.

I take a deep breath.

Then I open the door, take a step, and walk out into the living room.

I find Bucky a few paces away from my couch with his body leaning towards one of the photos I've got framed up on the wall. For a moment I wonder why he's looking at it so intently and what it is that he's thinking to make him look so thoughtful, but then he's turned around fully and I get the whole picture of what my date really looks like tonight. Oh god—he's a stunner. His hair has been slicked back real soft-like and shines such a healthy chestnut shade of chocolate brown. He's shaven clean all the way from his cheeks to his chin and neck—a neck that is wrapped up with a pretty blue bowtie. I fucking love bowties. And I love how this particular one makes his eyes pop like dynamite. I don't think I've ever seen eyes so beautiful and bright and full of promise.