Positive Regard

Chapter Twenty-Three

Bucky used to be so good with emotions. During the depression, when my mom would be crying, me, Matt and Daddy would be avoiding her, and Bucky would go straight up and hug her. When his sister's cat died when we were about thirteen and she was about seven, he wrapped the kitten in a towel, dug a hole and hosted a funeral. He even made him a cross out of some sticks and put it over the grave as a headstone. He always told everybody—women, at least. Apparently men don't do that?—that he loved them. He could give specific reasons why he loved them.
Mom and Dad adored him. Every time he left our house they would say I needed to date somebody like him, and Matt, if he was there, would say "Just not him." Dad didn't even like for me to hang out with Steve, because he was always getting into trouble.
Now, though, Bucky was worse with emotions than I was. He was awkward and uncomfortable when anyone talked about them. He definitely didn't even acknowledge his emotions, unless he absolutely had to.
"Steve, you have to get him to go to therapy." I said a couple days after our trip to Siberia.
"Me? Why me?"
"Because he'll listen to you. He'll think I'm doing it to make him more suitable for marriage or something. If you do it—"
"He'll tell me I'm being a sissy."
"No."
"Yes. I'm not getting involved. In two days, he'll officially be your thing to handle. Not doing it, Rose."
I sighed. "Fine, Steven. Did you invite Sharon to dinner?"
"No. I invited Sam, though."
"It's fine. I invited Sharon."
"You did? Why? I thought you don't approve."
"If you're happy, I'm happy. As long as you aren't doing drugs."
He saluted. "Yes ma'am."
He went into his room after a minute, and when he came back, he had changed. I smirked but didn't say anything.
"Wipe that smirk off your face. I spilled coffee on my shirt."
"Mhm."
"I did!"
"Mhm. Okay, honey."
"Shut up." He mumbled, sitting down on the couch.
"I'm not saying anything." I shrugged and smiled innocently.
"You're saying it in your head."
I laughed. "Maybe."
"Fine, I'll talk to Bucky."
"Thank you."
Bucky came home a couple minutes later with some flowers. "Hey, Stevie."
"Aw, flowers. You shouldn't have." Steve answered.
"Shut up." He laughed and came over to me. "Hey, doll." He kissed me and put the flowers into my hand.
"Did you pick these?" I raised my eyebrows.
"They were pretty." He shrugged.
Steve didn't have any vases, so I put the flowers in a glass. "Thank you."
"Come on a walk with me."
"I have to start cooking soon."
"I have a surprise for you."
"Can it wait?"
"I mean, it could, but..."
Steve stood from the couch. "I can start cooking. What am I making?"
I put a cookbook in his hands. "Take your pick."
Bucky raised his eyebrows. "Did you change?"
"No." Steve took the cookbook and started flipping through the pages.
"Stevie has a cruuuush." Bucky sang.
"Hey, Buck? Before you go, can we talk?" Steve looked up. "Privately?"
"Just say it now."
"I think you should try therapy or something." Steve kept talking, explaining why and such.
Bucky listened so well that I actually thought Steve might be having an affect, but as soon as he stopped talking, Bucky put his arm around me. "Don't be a sissy. Let's go, doll."
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"On a walk. Keep up." He smiled.
I elbowed him. "To where?"
"Your surprise. We covered this."
"Why are you in a good mood?"
"Am I not allowed to just be in a good mood?"
"I guess you are." I smiled and took his arm when he offered it.
"Did you know there's a musical about Alexander Hamilton?"
"I didn't."
"Me either. Apparently it's rap."
"Oh. Okay. But why?"
He shrugged. "Hell if I know."
"Why did you tell me that?" I smiled.
He shrugged again. "I dunno. You like history, right?"
"I'm more of a Washington kind of girl." I laughed. "Hamilton was kind of a..."
"Whore?"
"Yeah. Didn't John Adams say there weren't enough whores to satisfy him?"
Bucky laughed. "Probably."
I didn't know why he was in such a good mood, but I hadn't seen him smile this much since, like... the forties, so I wasn't about to say anything. He didn't smell like a bar or act like he was on drugs, so it was okay.
"Excuse me." A girl with a camera said quickly.
Bucky kept walking, like he didn't hear, but I pulled him to a stop and over to the girl.
"Hey, I'm Emily. I'm taking an art class down at the college," she pointed down the street. "For a project, we have to take a picture of something. Like, we have a list of stuff we can choose from. One of the options is strangers holding hands and so I was wondering if I could, like, take a picture of you two."
"Sure." I smiled.
Bucky shrugged. "I don't see why not."
"Cool! So, can you just, like, keep walking? And don't hold hands. Keep doing that arm thing. It's so old fashioned and, like... cute. Like, you look like you should be in, like, an old-timey picture or something. It's super cute. Like you should be all dressed up and going to, like, a ball or something. So just walk up to the corner and come back and I'll show you?"
Bucky offered his arm again. I took it and we started walking.
"Hey, wait." The girl said. "Can you walk back like that too? It's, like, super cute. I like how you do that thing where you hold your arm—wow, do you have a metal arm? That's so cool. Were you, like, in a war or something? Okay, you can walk now. I talk a lot—like, a lot. Sorry. Just, like, walk like normal. Like talk and stuff."
We walked up to the corner.
"She says 'like' a lot." Bucky commented.
"She says everything a lot."
We got back and she started talking again. "They came out great! Do you wanna see them? You guys are, like, super cute. Do you want me to send them to you? What's your email? Or your phone number?"
I didn't have an email, so I gave her my number.
"Thank you so much! Are you guys married? What war were you in? Were you in, like, Afghanistan or something? Cause you're, like, really young to be in a war. We haven't had any, like, war wars lately, have we? Oh, Iraq. Or was it Iran?"
I looked at Bucky for him to answer. How was he supposed to explain that he was in World War Two?
"We're getting married Saturday." Bucky answered. "I wasn't in Afghanistan or Iraq or Iran."
She tilted her head. "Then where?"
"World War Two."
She paused. "Like, with Hitler?"
"Yeah."
"But wasn't that, like.... a long, long time ago? That was, like, a hundred years ago?"
"Almost eighty, I think." I answered.
Her eyes widened. "Oh my God, are you the Winter Soldier?"
"My name's Bucky."
"Like the guy in the Smithsonian thing?"
He nodded.
"That's so cool! My mom's, like, in love with you. Your love letters make her cry. Oh my God, were they to you?" She covered her mouth with one hand and pointed at me with the other.
I nodded.
She squealed. "That's so cute! You guys are, like, adorable. Okay. So, I gotta go. I'll send you the pictures, okay? I gotta tell my mom I met you. She's gonna be jealous. Honestly you kinda scare me but, like, you don't seem all that scary. Hey, quick question."
"Yeah?" Bucky asked, sounding nice enough but probably way ready to get the hell out of there.
"How did you guys live without cell phones back then? Like, wow! How did you talk when he was in Germany?"
"We had phones." Bucky said.
"Just not cell phones. And we mostly wrote--"
"Like, letters?"
"You saw some of the letters." He reminded her.
"Oh, right! So, like, did people talk about gun control and stuff back in your day? Like they do now? Like, my parents are uber conservative—it's weird, right? This is New York—and I'm, like, not. I don't like guns but my mom's just like 'Do you think Captain America would agree with that?' So, like, does he? Or are you, like, still friends? I mean, after everything that happened?"
"What?" Bucky and I asked. She'd said so much, it was all starting to run together.
"Like, I mean, no offense but you were, like, a..."
"Yes, they're still friends." I said quickly. Who asked shit like that? You can't just ask a stranger if they're still friends with their best friend after being an assassin.
"So, like, does he agree with gun control or whatever? I really wanna tell my mom she's wrong."
"I don't... we didn't have that in the forties." Bucky said quickly, starting to sound irritated. "We were in a war, we didn't have time to worry about shit like that. People were dying. They didn't protest guns, they made them. The war--"
I pinched his arm lightly. "I can't imagine Steve wanting more government-sanctioned restrictions. He's Captain America. He's really against his rights being violated and he doesn't like rules too much. We have a dinner to get to. Good luck on your project." I pulled on Bucky's arm.
"Oh, damn. I just won't tell her, then. Have a nice dinner!" The girl smiled brightly.
Bucky walked away, putting his hands into his pockets.
"Bucky." I put my hand on his arm.
"I know. I was rude."
"That's not what I was gonna say."
"It's not?"
I tugged on his arm until he followed me into an alley we were passing.
"What are you doing?"
I kissed him. "I love you."
"You... what?"
"I love you."
"For being an ass to a little girl?"
I smiled. "No. Are you okay?"
"Yeah." He smiled and kissed my cheek. "Come on, you still have a surprise." As we walked out, he gestured back to the alley we'd come from. "Steve got in a fight in that alley. And that one. And that one. And that one."
"He sure did get around." I laughed. "Bucky, you're an old man."
"What? I'm like—"
"And old man." I kept laughing. "Lecturing that poor girl on war and politics."
"Should've lectured her on manners." He put his arm over my shoulders.
"One step at a time, darling."
"Kids these days."
"It's called freedom of speech."
"They shouldn't be allowed to if it's stupid. Why should good people die so idiots can—"
"You probably shouldn't say that too loud here."
"Just saying. They shouldn't be allowed to express stupid shit me if they're wrong."
"That's called an opinion."
"Shouldn't be able to have stupid opinions."
I laughed. "You should run for office."
"'Cause I love the government."
"Does anyone?"
He shrugged. "No. Can't blame them."
"Hey, Bucky?"
"Yes, doll?"
"Why didn't you come find Steve instead of staying in Romania? You knew he was alive."
He sighed. "Because I didn't want to mess up his life."
"So what made you come back?"
"You were there."
"No I wasn't. You guys made me leave."
"Right. Well, that was for the best. It got... bad. But it doesn't matter how I got here. I hope you're happy, because you're stuck with me."
"That was the idea." I smiled.
He pulled me by the hand up the driveway to Granny's house.
"What are we doing here?" I asked. "What are you—"
A woman was walking out the door, carrying two cardboard boxes. She smiled. "You must be Bucky! My husband said you were coming by."
I looked at Bucky. How did he know her husband?
"Hey, nice to meet you. Want me to take that?" He asked as he grabbed the boxes from her arms. "Where to, ma'am?"
"The van. The back should be open. Thank you so much."
I looked after Bucky as he took the boxes around to the van. What was I supposed to do?
The woman smiled. "You look confused."
"I have no idea what's going on." I admitted.
"Then I won't spoil it." She smiled.
"Well?" Bucky asked when he came back. "What do you think?"
"I don't know what's happening."
"They're moving." Bucky said.
"I noticed. So you just... befriended them?" I raised my eyebrows.
"I bought their house."
"You... what? When? How?"
"I bought their house yesterday by signing papers and giving them money. That still works the same as it always has."
"Look at that, Buck, you'll still be in walking distance of Steve." I said with a laugh.
"I thought you'd be excited."
"I am." I smiled.
"You don't look excited."
"I never look excited."
"That's true. So... you're happy? Because we don't have to live here if you don't want to. We can—"
"I'm happy." I smiled. "I am."
Bucky helped her with several more boxes before I reminded him we had a dinner to get to.
"I have something else for you." He said as we walked back down the street.
"We don't have time for another stop. We told Sam and Sharon—"
"Sam's coming?"
"Yeah."
"But he wouldn't move his seat up. Steve went and got this VW Bug and I lost rock-paper-scissors and got stuck in the back."
"Oh no!" I said with mock horror.
"Do you want your surprise or not? Sympathize with me."
"You poor, poor mistreated baby." I said flatly.
"I know! Anyways, this isn't another stop. It's tangible."
"What is it?"
"Close your eyes."
I stopped walking and closed my eyes. A second later, he put something in my hand. I opened my eyes and looked down to see the necklace with my parents' wedding rings on it, that Granny had given me.
I looked up at him. "Where did you get this? When? How?"
"You, my dearest, are a broken record."
"Bucky."
"Kirsten gave it—"
"Who?"
"The lady back there. Her grandparents or great-grandparents or something bought the house after... you know. They thought it looked important so they kept in, just in case, I guess. So, here it is. Oh my God—please don't cry."
I put the necklace on and wrapped my arms around Bucky. "Thank you."
He hugged me back. "See, now you look happy."
"You make me happy."
He kissed my head. "Come on. We should get back to dinner."
"Yeah, I guess we should."