The Encyclopedia Of Bucky Barnes' New Beginnings | Stucky

Five ∆ Only Time Will Tell

Loading up Olivia's room was pretty easy. Dot had a system of storage with plastic totes under the bed, closed shelves holding everything else. They put her bedding - Disney's Brave themed - within the comforter and stuffed the wrap on the floor behind the passenger seat in Steve's pearly white SUV.

Clearing out the last little parts, Olivia darted past Bucky, deeper into the hallway. He followed her, glancing inside the cute little bathroom before stepping through the final doorway.

Dot's bedroom wasn't much. And he recognized a good part of it. The grey-brown bedspread, the little yellow star-shaped throw pillow. The little sock monkeys she had sitting on a bookshelf, a wax burner beside her bed and a notebook with a pen stuck through the spiral binding. He opened the first drawer, a sad little smile coming to his lips when he saw a little photo booth strip of the two of them. It was at most six years old but well cared for. He lifted it out, seeing her charm bracelet with more charms than he remembered. He flipped the photo reel over, rereading his old, since-evolved handwriting, a little heart and music note underneath.

The way you move ain't fair, you know

He let the strip slip from his fingers. Her Train CDs were tucked into a shelf, that he saw as he crossed to the dresser in front of the closet and beside the door. He opened one of the lower drawers, finding pajamas, and, unsurprisingly, the sweater he had been missing after she left him. He pulled it out from its place, the fold falling apart. Despite wearing the mask, he lifted it up to his face, and was still able to tell that it just smelled like her.

Still worn thin from his meltdown, Bucky paced back and dropped down to the edge of his bed, feeling gutted, holding the old sweater up in his hands. He released a shaky breath, running the pads of his thumbs over the worn fabric.

"Did you love each other?" Olivia suddenly asked him, and Bucky straightened his back, sniffling. He stood up just enough to shift, to be able to face her when he settled back down. She stared at him from the other side of the mattress, jewel eyes wide and rimmed in red as she stared at him.

"I did. I don't think she did. Not enough to work things out, at least. We were young, we didn't exactly know what we were doing. First loves, it's sometimes hard to tell if it's really love." He didn't elaborate. From what he could tell, you could hold a good conversation with her. She was smart. But he didn't want to push it without realizing. Especially with such heavy and hard topics.

"You know what it feels like now?"

"You...you can't love one person the same way you did someone else. If that makes sense." Dot was this juvenile love. They graduated college together, in the year and couple months they dated, they were able to retain carefree youth as they stepped into adult life. He was sure that Dot was his first real love. He was so sure that he had loved Tyler Moore in eighth grade, had lost his virginity to Angela Shoemacher the summer between his junior and senior years of high school. But he had never loved anyone the way he loved Steve.

She nodded, and they fell back into their silence. Bucky watched her eyes fill up with tears again, felt his own. He wanted to take his mask off, clean himself up, but he had to wait until he was back in the car. Right now, he needed to find some way to be there for his daughter. The awkward unknowing between them was thick and sticky, and through circumstance he couldn't figure out the proper way to try and clean it. He couldn't push himself on her, but he needed to care for her at least in the most basic understanding. Give her a home, food, and such. Until she would accept that he was no in her life, he had to figure out a good way to let her know that he was truly here for her. And that he wasn't going to leave (again.)

"Can I have a hug?" he asked, voice breaking. He tried to word it the best he could, was sure that he hadn't hit the nail right. But he needed to do something. She didn't seem to want her to touch her, but the  exigency to comfort her marched like ants underneath his skin. An incessant tug, like the way he'd darted to follow her when she went running without warning.