an ode to all the places we’ve never been {b.b}
“I picked up Steve’s glasses, too,” you whisper to Bucky. “Give ‘em to ‘im when you see ‘im tomorrow for me, please.”
Your eyes tear back and forth between the movie, Anne of Green Gables, and Bucky’s sarcastic-turning facial expression. This movie’s been your favorite since it came out in 1934, eight years ago.
“Those things were expensive.”
“Ah,” he harmonizes, a warm palm on your cold thigh. “The price of having a medical condition beyond your control.”
“Only in Brooklyn,” you scoff. “Or should I say the U.S.?”
A beat of silence. You inhale sharply.
Bucky’s eyebrows scrunch together.
“You know...,” you shift on the couch, bending one leg so you can face him fully. “New York.”
Bucky blinks. Once, twice. “What?”
You paw at his chest anxiously. “We could go to Paris. Eat French food. They have beautiful head scarves. Or maybe a different state? If you wanna try something smaller? But oh, wouldn’t it be nice? You, an’ me, an’ Steve in Rome. Spain. No, Shanghai—“
“Darlin’,” Bucky holds your fingers in his hands. “Our families are here, in New York.” He tries to talk you down, “We can’t just up and leave.”
“I know where our families are,” you seethe, shifting away from him. You want more to your name than a bill folder of $30. Does that make you so selfish?
Well, even if it does, Bucky isn’t about to tell you that.
“But if we could?” He glances over the side of your face, flicking his tongue over his bottom lip.
You’re an undeniable sort of beautiful.
“Indiana sounds nice.” He turns back to the movie.
You light up. “Indiana? For a city boy?”
He pokes your side. “The war will be over soon, anyhow. We can go wherever you wanna go after that.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Buck.”
He tosses you a sloppy grin, pulling you into his side. “You know I never would.”
One heartbeat, two, three.
“I want a family, Bucky.”
He tilts his head. “Doll, you have a family—“
“I want a family with you.”
Bucky chokes, absolutely losing his mind. You want a what? With who?
“You mean...,” his voice turns to a whisper, “kids?”
Your head stays rested against his chest, but you can’t bring yourself to even look his way, burning cheeks and hooded eyes focused intently on the television. Bucky’s too busy putting the pieces together himself to mind you much, anyway.
“What else could that mean, dumbass, of course she wants kids.”
“I want,” you begin, immediately pulling his attention, “I want—“
“Doll,” Bucky grabs your hands. His voice is softer now, a smooth timbre that holds weight. The voice of a man in love.
“Doll, you don’ have to worry ‘bout a thing. After this is all over, you an’ me? We’re gonna have the biggest family in Brooklyn.”
“I hope they get your eyes.”
“Well, I hope they get your everything.”
