HEROES | T. ODINSON 1

Epilogue.

7 years later

"Any word yet?" Bucky asks, taking a seat on the couch after tossing his jacket over the coat rack in the hallway. 

It's dark outside when he walks into my house, and while he was supposed to come over five hours ago, but I don't question his reasons for being late. Instead, I'm glad he made it at all. He's been busy lately, with rumors of HYDRA resurfacing since the population snapped back seven years ago. It's taken a toll on his emotional state as well, which is why he's been coming to New-Asgard more often lately. It's an escape for him, I suppose. He can forget about his troubles here, even just for a few hours. Sometimes he'll help chop firewood, other times he'll clean fish. When I need someone to change a lightbulb or paint the front gate to our house, Bucky's the one I call. He always comes for a cup of locally resourced mead.

I'm not sure where our friendship started. I suppose it came naturally, commenced during our first meeting in Wakanda and it never stopped evolving. We have each other's back, keep each other grounded and up to date with any recent developments. Despite having such different pasts, they feel incredibly similar in nature. Both of us have done things we wish we could undo and there we find comfort in one another.

I smile and nod, eyes falling down to the ring on my right hand, diamond sparkling beautifully in the dim light of the fireplace that quietly crackles in the background. It was made on Nidavellir and every time I observe it, I wish I could just thank whoever constructed it for its perfection. For a moment, I have to bite my lip to stop myself from grinning like an idiot, but then I remember it's James I'm talking to, and I allow the smile to surface when I look up at him again. I almost expect him to laugh in my face and make fun of me, but his expression tells me he's genuinely curious.

"No words," I say, dragging my feet to the kitchen to fix him a cup of his favorite, New-Asgardian mead, "Stars." 

He looks at me as if I've lost my head and slowly nods, squinting at me when he follows my movements. I rummage through cabinets for the tankards given to us as a wedding gift and smile once more when I pull them out of the darkest corner of the cabinet. After a quick rinse, I fill them up, bubbling liquid foaming to the top instantly. I walk back to the living room and hand his tankard to him. He thanks me politely while I secure my robe tighter around myself. It's a chilly night in New-Asgard, and although our wooden house is well-insulated, the wind still sends a chill through my bones.

"Stars?" He asks, raising an eyebrow as he sips his drink. 

I nod, chuckling at his reaction.

"He sends us shooting stars every night to let me know he's okay. He's getting closer, I can feel it in the air. She can feel it too." I say, smiling, "I know I should probably force him to stay with us next time, but I can't bring myself to do it. He's keeping the galaxy safe, it wouldn't be fair for me to intervene."