someone's feeling bold tonight. ( for ahmya, from bucky )
from bucky barnes ( @burnmemories ) for ahmya bushida
she remembers the way his eyes landed on her the moment he walked through the door, the way his gaze flickered—sharp, assessing—before softening just slightly. it had been the outfit, of course. it would be after all, it's been many years since he's seen something like it.
she’d told him, in dire need to over explain, that she had to have it custom-made. apparently, they didn’t design much in her bust size back in the forties. maybe that had been an excuse to draw attention to it, maybe not. she does admit to missing the high slits she's used to, but she carries on.
what had actually been impossible to find was the jewelry. she’d spent weeks searching, combing through antique shops, auction listings, and back-alley dealers who swore they had the real thing. nothing had been quite right—not until she finally found a piece that looked like it had been plucked straight from the era itself. a small victory in a sea of near-misses.
the rest of it was easy enough as the faint crackle of an old record player hums in the background, followed by the unmistakable, velvety voice of ella fitzgerald weaving through the air. from there, across the room, the black-and-white glow of the television casts soft light against the walls, where to have and to have not plays, its dialogue a quiet murmur beneath the music. bogart’s voice drifts through the space, smooth and knowing, his presence on the screen only adding to the atmosphere.
she mentions in passing that black and white movies means she sees them exactly as they were supposed to be seen as, media isn't friendly to her eyesight.
for dinner, the table is small, intimate, set for two with vintage china and polished silverware, a delicate lace tablecloth draped beneath it. a pair of slender candlesticks stand in the center, their flames flickering against the rim of crystal glasses filled with deep red wine. the scent of something rich and slow-cooked lingers in the air, mingling with faint traces of cologne and perfume.
when he asks where her daughter is, she mentions with a tone of melancholy that carletta started taking her undergrad courses. she's been alone since he left for DC two weeks ago. the conversation shifts between comfortable silence, stolen glances from both silence, and the two figures sit close, their chairs angled just slightly toward each other, an unconscious pull. fingers brush in passing, the occasional stolen glance shared over the rim of a glass, smiles tugged into place by the sheer warmth of it all.
but now?
the remnants of dinner still linger—half-finished glasses of wine, the scent of something warm and rich still hanging in the air, but the table is abandoned now.
the record player crackles again before slipping into something slower, something meant for moments like this. the smooth croon of nat king cole drifts through the space, his voice warm as honey, wrapping around them like an old embrace.
the living room is dimly lit, the only glow coming from the old movie playing on the television. casablanca this time, flickering black and white against the walls, though neither of them is really watching.
"when i fall in love, it will be forever…"
they sway together, slow and unhurried, bodies pressed just close enough to feel the quiet rhythm of each other’s breathing. the golden glow of candlelight flickers against the walls, catching in the curve of her hand where it rests against his. their fingers brush in passing, the warmth of skin against skin lingering as she lets the touch settle.
her other hand lies loose against his shoulder, her fingers trailing absently, catching briefly in the dark ends of his hair before falling away. the music plays on, low and steady, filling the space between them, wrapping around them like something tangible.
" someone’s feeling bold tonight. "
his voice is quiet, laced with something unreadable, something lingering just beneath the surface.
" bold? "
a soft sigh, her breath warm as it ghosts between them. she keeps her gaze turned away, her eyes tracing the flickering light against the walls, but the weight of his words presses into her thoughts, sinking deep. confusion sits at the edge of her mind, heavy but unspoken.
" i was trying to be romance(romantic), " she pauses, the words settling between them as the music carries on, letting the world shrink down to just this moment, just these walls, just them.
her fingers tighten slightly against his, grounding herself before she continues.
" i grew comfort (comfortable) with you here. when you were here for many months on end, and carletta was gone, off on—, " she exhales, shaking her head slightly as she searches for the right words. " you learned some of my language, "
her eyes flicker toward the television, where the black-and-white glow of the film casts soft shadows across the room.
" and so i thought that this would be a comfort to you. to make you feel… at… home. when you do not come home much anymore. "
her brows furrow as she finishes, the effort of translating her thoughts weighing heavier than she expected. another breath, softer this time, slipping past her lips like something she had been holding onto for too long.
"and the moment i can feel that you feel that way too… is when i fall in love… with you."
