Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Summer 1939. Red House, New York.

Y/N Y/L/N was selling lemonade in the park for 15 cents a glass. Every other kid was playing with a loose water hose. At the corner of her eyes, she noticed a young boy her age, seated on a bench alone. He wasn’t sulking or anything, just watching the other kids play. Then she grabbed a fresh glass of lemonade and walked up to him.

“Hi. Do you want some lemonade? This one’s on the house.” The 10-year old girl offered the brunet-haired boy.

He glanced at her judgingly when he muttered, “Are you flirting with me?”

“No. Why?” she asked, expressing confusion on her face.

“My brother told me that if a girl gives me something, it means she’s flirting with me.”

The little girl laughed and placed the glass of lemonade beside the boy. “It’s just a glass’o lemonade. I’m selling these so I could buy the new Frank Sinatra record,” she stated with sparkling eyes. The boy accepted the glass of lemonade, his face still a questioning look.

“If you’re sellin’ lemonade, then why are you givin’ this to me?”

She shrugged. “I’ve made more than enough for the day. Don’t you want it?” The boy glared at her under the scorching sun, then drank the glass of lemonade.

“It’s good,” he remarked. “Thanks…er,” he trailed off to catch her name. The lemonade girl proudly announced her name. Then he responded with his.

“Bucky.”

“If you want more, I’m just at my lemonade stand. But no more freebies this time, Bucky,” she said with smiling eyes and mouth.

“I thought you said you’ve made enough money?”

“I’m runnin’ a business here, pal. Oh! And tell your brother,” she said as she started stepping away. “He knows nothing about girls.”

Summer. Eight years later.
You couldn’t believe your ears. You had yourself checked by a gynecologist. You were only eighteen, and already three weeks pregnant. The world in your head felt like it was narrowing as you tried to digest the fact that a fetus has formed in your belly. How are you going to tell Steve? Your mother? Oh god, your father? What would your siblings think?

You’re the eldest of three children, spawns of a retired military man. Your mother, a devout Christian. You were born into an ideal family, really, but what happened to you wasn’t ideal. Especially not in 1946. You frowned in shame in front of your doctor, but she assured you that you’re not the only one in this predicament. With that thought, you came home, bothered in your head as you tried to contemplate on how to tell your parents about your unborn baby. And of course, your boyfriend and the father of your child, Steve.

Steven Grant Barnes.

The two of you have been together for a year. After he smoothed his way into your heart for three months, you finally gave in. Steve was the promising son in his family. The top student in school. He worked hard in being accepted at the University of Oxford. Both of you were upcoming seniors that year. Steve was no ordinary scholar. He practically didn’t need to finish his senior year. You, on the other hand, still had a year to go before graduation. At this rate, you don’t know if finishing high school was still an option.

You knew Steve had so much to lose if your father was going to force him to marry you. But you don’t know yet for sure. Steve loves you. He’s proven that lots of times already.

You called him at home and asked him to pick you up. He was more than happy to oblige and he arrived in your lawn in under twenty minutes. You told your mom that you were going to have dinner with Steve.

He drove a blue Ford pickup truck where you spent most of your steamy makeout sessions. You didn’t wait for him to honk in your street so you rushed downstairs. He kissed you as soon as you hopped in.

“Hey, beautiful. I was surprised you invited me out today. I thought you were busy?” He hit the gas when you smiled at him.

“Well, I thought I just,” you muttered, keeping your gaze at your blonde boyfriend. “Needed to get out. Can we go to that nice little cafe we went to last time?”

“Sure darling,” Steve said then held your hand. “Is everything alright? I thought you sounded…off on the phone.” Your heart started pounding, slowly, however. You scooted across the seat and clung to him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I’m ok, sweetie. Just glad you’re here,” you whispered. Steve’s grip on your hand tightened, assuring you that everything will turn out okay. He’ll be a good father. You said in your head with a smile.

Moments later, you arrived at the cafe and order your dinner. The cafe had a small dance floor, where Steve invited you to dance on with him. The two of you enjoyed the night, having danced to a series of upbeat and spontaneous big band songs. When you finally got tired dancing, Steve took you back to his truck and drove to your favorite after-date spot, where you either made out or just cuddled together.

That night, you were doing both. It started with a cuddle in the center of the seat. You talked about random things and recalled how fun the dance you just had moments ago. His lips reached yours in no time when you both fell into silence just after laughing about a couple who danced silly at the cafe. His lips were warm on yours, feeling velvety in their every move. They left your lips to make their way to your neck. The sensation was getting overwhelming, your insides started to clench, aching for more friction in them. And then you remembered it.

“Steve? Sweetie?” He didn’t stop kissing your weak spot on your neck but whispered, “What is it darling? Talk to me.” His hands slid on your thighs and under your skirt. One of them was already reaching the warmest spot of your body. A finger, maybe two, started fiddling with your center, making you distracted from what you just remembered. You huffed a moan and mentally shook your head. You practiced saying it in front of the mirror as soon as you got home. You tried coming up with different ways, different phrases, perhaps, to soften the blow.

But there was only one way to say it.

“I’m pregnant.” His touches halted. It hasn’t been a full second since you’ve finally uttered the sentence you’ve been practicing to say in your head, but the silence was already feeling too long.

“What?” You were about to repeat what you said but Steve interrupted you. “Are you sure?” You nodded your head and said, “I went to the doctor today. My period was delayed.” His previously lust-blown face dropped. His hands slowly moved away from you as he shifted in his seat, looking anywhere else now but your eyes. Why did he have to stop holding me? You thought.

“I’m three weeks pregnant, Steve. I don’t feel a thing yet, but darling, we’re having a baby,” you cooed, reaching for his hands again, but he flinched.

“No, no, no. This can’t happen, Y/N.” He ran a hand through his blonde hair, worries painted in his face.

“What do you mean, Steve? Of course it can. We’ve been going at it like rabbits,” you remarked. It took you a second to remember how often you and Steve have stolen moments to fool around with each other.

His brows were drawn together when he stepped out of the truck. Your head hung over your shoulders. All of the assurance you had earlier was now gone. “Darling, please come back inside.” He paced back and forth and when he heard you call for him, he stepped inside the truck and turned on the ignition and drove away to take you back home.

“Aren’t you going to say anything all?”

He drew a sharp breath and without taking his eyes off the road, he said, “Just let me think.” The rest of the drive remained quiet. His hand no longer searching for yours. They remained on the gear shift or the wheel. The gap between you two in the truck felt bigger than it looked. You don’t like the silence you had now, so you turned on the radio, only to be shut quickly by him.

“I told you, I need to think, Y/N.” You turned away. He has never been this cold to you. Whenever you had fights, you always made up before the night ended. Of course, all of those were nothing compared to this. You didn’t fight, but the distance between you two suddenly appeared. This hurt you more having him argue with you.

The cold, silent treatment has never been something that Steve had given you before. He was always the one vocal and expressive of his thoughts. And it always bothered him when you argued until you got home. He would call you to apologize and sweep you off your feet before you went to bed. Sometimes he would drive in just to see you. One of those times even led to a spontaneous make-up sex in his truck.

When he pulled over to your lawn, his gaze remained forward even though it’s evident that you were looking at him and waiting for him to return your gaze. But he didn’t. You suddenly felt like you don’t know Steve anymore. This was not like him at all. His jaws clenched before finally uttering a word to you after being silent forever.

“Do your parents know?”

“No. You’re the first one I told.”

“When are you gonna tell ‘em?”

“Tomorrow.” He nodded. You couldn’t read his face, but it’s not how it was like when he picked you up earlier. You pulled the knob open, remembering that you didn’t kiss Steve goodnight, so you leaned towards him to give him a peck, but he turned his head to you and whispered, “Good night, Y/N.”

Something pointy stabbed your heart with the coldness of his ‘good night’. It was impossible that he didn’t see it in your eyes, but you saw what was in those perfectly bright blue eyes of his. Something unfamiliar to you. Something you’ve never seen in him before, or never noticed.

You barely had any energy to make a big deal of his behavior since he found out you were pregnant. All you had left to say was, “I want to keep the baby.” Then you hopped out of the truck. You remained standing on the sidewalk as you watched his truck drive away. You have never been more uncertain in your life than you were that night. Not just with how you’re going to keep the baby, how you’re going to tell your parents - but if Steve is still with you in all this.

You waited for Steve to call and swoon you over like he always did, but tonight, he broke that record. You didn’t want your family to hear you crying, so you played an Ella Fitzgerald record on your phonograph as you cried yourself to sleep.

Chapter Text

The next morning, you and your family sat quietly at the breakfast table as you gathered all your courage and voice to finally tell your parents. Your 9-year old little brother, Bruce, finished his cereals quickly and was sent upstairs to get ready for church. Now that you had your parents to yourself, you caught the attention of your father by holding his hand that’s resting on the table. His gaze at the newspaper shifted to you as soon as he felt your touch. And this action also caught your mother’s attention.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” His voice was calm and patient.

“I have something to say to you…Mom, you too.” There’s no turning back now. You glanced at both of them before saying, “I’m pregnant with Steve’s baby.” You let it out quicker than you planned. Your father angrily shoved your hand away. Silence loomed over the breakfast table. You can feel the rage boiling upon your father’s face. His previously sweet gaze at you turned into a glare. “Mom?” She didn’t say anything but just looked at you, probably judging you for being knocked up at eighteen. “Daddy?”

A loud slap swung across your face, immediately bringing out tears from your eyes. “I’m sorry, Daddy!” You yelped. You began panting as your cries became louder.

“How could you be so careless? Irresponsible! Where did your mother and I ever go wrong in raising you for paying us back this way? With…with shame,” he bellowed, his voice full and gravelly. No matter how much you tried to apologize, nothing you could say was enough. No amount of apology was good enough. Not to your parents. Perhaps not even to God.

An hour later, you arrived at the church. You have never felt more guilty in your life, having to enter the church with your parents acting like everything’s ok, except when they look at you. You know they’re still mad and disappointed at you. As you walked inside the church, you kept your head low, but your eyes searched for Steve. He and his family also went to church every Sunday. Thoughts of his parents already knowing your condition played in your mind and as soon as you shook off the thought, Steve’s figure emerged in your sight. He and his family were seated in the front pews.

Just like you, Steve is their family’s first-born. Followed by James, a year later, and then Rebecca, four years after him. In the Barnes family, James was pretty much the black sheep. Being the only brunet-haired in their family, every so often you used to hear other kids teasing him being adopted. You always thought it was such a petty tease. Once in a while, you would give those kids a piece of your mind. You often saw James when you visited Steve at home, but you had never really made friends with him. He was timid and quiet. Sometimes you would see him in church, and sometimes not. Today, he was present and seated beside his brother.

Their sister Rebecca, better known as Becky, a blonde and blue-eyed beauty, sometimes hung out with you and Steve whenever you visited. Sometimes, you had girl talk with her. Looking at her, you now think how she must think of you after knowing about your condition. Would she still talk to you? Would she think it was your fault? You know that’s not true, but you can’t help but feel guilty and ashamed.

As you and your family were looking for a spacious pew to sit on, you let your brother sit beside your parents, making you the one seated farthest from them. Not that it was far enough, but it was worth it.

The service began shortly with a song of praise before Pastor Phil Coulson welcomed everyone attending. Of course, today, of all Sundays, the sermon was about premarital abstinence. You kept your head down for most of the service. However, the words of Pastor Phil did not hurt or offend you. It was something you didn’t expect but realized you needed at the moment.

Premarital sex is something that most couples do. It’s not as bad as it looks, because it makes couples bond intimately. It’s when a couple shares the love through a thorough physical act. And when a baby is conceived by a young woman, specifically a teenage girl, the pastor said, “Nevertheless, she must be loved equally as the daughter that remained chaste. For God loves all His daughters as He does all His sons.”

The sermon kept your breaths barely in check, as you noticed your father remained frozen in his seat during Pastor Phil’s very words, which commanded your parents to forgive you. They were considerate enough though, to not make it obvious that the sermon was about you. They were pretty good at pretending that nothing happened. That the former General’s daughter has gotten pregnant by her eighteen-year-old boyfriend, who had a promising future as a doctor.

When the service ended, everybody calmly exited the church, some of them greeted the pastor and praised him for a wonderful Sunday service. Your mother did the same before heading out of the church with your dad and brother. It was a very bright Sunday, that everybody’s hat was on point.

***

At the Barnes household at around 2 PM, Steve braved himself enough to tell his parents, George and Winifred, that you got pregnant with his baby. George was about to throw him a punch when his mother stopped him. He had never hit his children or his wife, and Winifred wasn’t about to let him start now. Steve was seated on the couch in the living room, his shoulders slumped in shame.

“You’re supposed to be smart, Steven. Not a fat-head who knocks up a poor young dame,” he paced in front of Steve. “We had plans for you, Steve!” George snapped.

“I can’t marry her, Dad,” Steve murmured.

“What did you say?”

“I can’t marry Y/N. I wanna go to Oxford. I wanna finish everything I’ve started,” Steve said sternly.

“Everything? Everything but this situation you’ve put yourself into?”

“I’m scared, Dad. I can’t. I can’t be a father yet.”

“You should’a thought’a that before getting Y/N up the duff! Jesus Christ, Steven!” Steve hid his face in his palms when his father continued, “The Barnes men always take responsibility for their actions, Steven. This, especially this, is no exception. You will man up and marry that poor girl.”

After that stressful conversation, Steve made a call to your house to ask permission from your father to have a meeting with his family. They invited you and your parents for dinner. Just when you thought things couldn’t get any worse, they decided to throw a dinner party for you and Steve, regardless of your current status with Steve - which was unclear for you at the moment.

The dinner was held at their house. Everything Winifred Barnes had cooked was scrumptious. From the Caesar salad down to her delectable chocolate brownies, it was easy to say why the Barnes siblings were all healthily good-looking. Their mother fed them well.

In the dinner table, you sat on one end, on the corner of Steve’s seat on the tail of the table. Sitting beside you was your mother, then Steve’s mother, then on the head of the table, was Steve’s father, of course. On the other corner of George, seated your father. Beside your father sat your little brother, Bruce, beside him sat Rebecca, then beside Rebecca, was an empty chair and an untouched plate designated to James, who was not around for dinner.

Though you were seated beside Steve at the dinner table, you’ve never felt so distant from him. He has barely said a word to you or even looked at you all evening. When your head sunk down from your shoulders, his hand reached yours that was resting on your lap. Instantly, your face lit up and you felt as though a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

Steve’s parents mentioned his plans now that he has gotten into Oxford. Your face dropped again because it was highly likely that you will be raising your baby alone in your parents’ house while waiting for Steve to come home every holiday. And what about school? You probably won’t be finishing senior year considering you will be giving birth during spring the following year.

“We want the kids to be married as soon as possible.” Suddenly the voice of your father broke your train of thought.

“Of course. We want the same thing. Steven leaves for England in two weeks to prepare for college,” George concurred. “We must start preparing for the church wedding starting tomorrow.”

Your mother also added a suggestion, the conversation picking up a positive tone. Your heart skipped a beat when Steve let go of your hand and you noticed him staring at his plate.

“I can’t,” Steve said in a low voice but his voice was full and easily heard by every adult in the room, completely silencing the conversation.

“What did you say, boy?” Your father asked him in a threatening tone.

“I can’t,” he simply repeated and then looked at him in the eyes. “I can’t marry your daughter, sir. I’m sorry.” Firm and steady, his words made your heart drop and break into a million pieces. Doesn’t he love me at all? You quietly thought to yourself.

“Then what the hell are we doing here, George?” Your father grated him. “Did you teach your son to be a coward?” Steve quickly stood up from his seat and rushed upstairs to his room.

“Perhaps I failed my son, but at least I don’t teach my daughter to be a harlot.” Your father quickly stood from his seat and swung at George, causing him to fall down. You, the kids, and the mothers called the two men repeatedly to stop the ruckus. Some of the chairs fell over the floor as the fight began. One rushed to hit the other man, the woman nearest to the target also stood quickly to interfere. All of you were successful, however late. George Barnes had already taken a good hit from your father.

The moment that the fight had stopped, you followed Steve upstairs to talk to him. You knocked loudly at his door. “Steve? Let’s talk. Please.” He didn’t answer. Your gaze remained at the foot of the door. “Come on, baby. Please talk to me.” You’re getting worried because this was very unlikely of Steve. He has always been so courageous. He has never been one to quit when a challenge arises.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he finally responded, his voice muffled by the door. “I can’t marry you.” He said it again as if you didn’t hear it the first time downstairs. Saddened by his declaration, you were unable to utter a word. Tears just streamed across your face uncontrollably.

There were a million things you wanted to say. Words of anger. Profanity. Questions that you’ve been dying to ask since he turned cold towards you the night before. And new questions about his behavior now. Thankfully, before you headed downstairs, you managed to say, “Unbelievable. You can’t even say it to my face. You’re a coward, Steve.”

You wiped your tears from your face as you descended the stairs. When you reached the dining room, your parents were preparing to leave. Your mother looked at you in a way you understood that she was asking what Steve had said. You simply shook your head in disappointment.

Your father and Steve’s parents noticed your melancholic expression. “Thank you for the delicious dinner, Mrs. Barnes. Mr. Barnes. I’m sorry about all this.” Then you turned to your parents. “I’m gonna wait in the car,” you quietly announced. You didn’t wait for any of them to say something and walked out. You didn’t even notice your little brother looking worried and confused. Rebecca was no longer in the dining room.

The moment you shut the door, you started crying again. You felt like crying some more before your family would come out. You didn’t notice Steve’s brother, James, who was walking on the sidewalk coming from behind your father’s car.

With his hands on his jacket pockets and the tip of a toothpick coming out of his mouth, he stopped walking the moment he saw you coming out of his house, crying miserably - your hands crossed under your chest. You got inside the car and sobbed. From where he stood, he could hear your blubbering mess. He continued chewing the toothpick in his mouth when he walked over to the car.

He was reluctant to talk to you, but his mama raised a gentleman. He removed the toothpick from his mouth and knocked softly on the half-opened window. Though it was barely a knock, it still made you jump on your seat.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you, doll. You ok?”

“Oh. Hi, James.” You quickly wiped your tears. “You shouldn’t have seen that.” A clean, well-folded checkered handkerchief on his hand emerged from outside your window.

“No girl should be left alone to cry.”

“Thank you, but I’m fine now. I’ve wiped my tears already.”

Restraining from prying, he changed the subject. “Why are you seated in the back seat?” He must have expected you to drive yourself to see Steve.

“My parents and brother are inside. We had dinner. Why weren’t you there? Only Steve and Rebecca joined us.”

“I was out,” was all he said as if it wasn’t obvious enough. He probably doesn’t care much about what’s happening in the family, and he probably didn’t know about you being pregnant.

Did Steve do this to you? He wanted to ask. But instead, he inquired, “Where’s Steve?”

“In his room,” you sighed, your gleaming eyes filled with resignation. “Could you tell him something for me, James?” He nodded his head.

“Please tell him…that he knows nothing about women.” He was going to say something in response to that but then your parents and little brother came out of the front door, being ushered by Winifred.

“See you ‘round, doll,” James muttered before leaving you, going unnoticed by your parents whom he walked past in the pathway. Bruce pushed his eyeglasses against his nose bridge upon seeing James coming from outside your side of the car. James smiled and nodded at him as he put back the toothpick inside his mouth to chew. Your little brother smiled with a hint of admiration. This guy’s pretty cool, your brother thought to himself.

Your parents got inside the car still fussing about the last few moments after dinner. Bruce opened the door on your side and sat beside you. When the car drove away from the Barnes’ residence, you somehow felt relieved to be away from Steve, but also missed him terribly. It bothered you that he changed so much after you told him you were pregnant. And it has barely been 24 hours since then.

Bruce clung to you on the way home. He always did this whenever you and your family went for a trip or had a long drive from the city. But this time you felt it from your little brother. He cared enough to be the only person who reminded you that you are loved, even when in your own eyes, you didn’t deserve love because you lost your virginity before marriage and got pregnant at a ripe age of eighteen.

You wished you could disappear, maybe run away. But you knew that you had no idea how to carry a baby. How could you expect yourself to raise the baby without your mother beside you? You still had time. Perhaps tomorrow, or the week after, your parents would let you have your baby without getting married. But what about Steve? How could he take not seeing you? Did he plan on breaking up with you when he was going to leave for England?

So many questions rambled in your head. The answers, however, remained nowhere in sight.

Chapter Text

Sally’s Diner, Red House, New York. Winter 1942.
The whole town was in the holiday mood. The Barnes family had finally just moved in after constantly being in and out of town for three years. The Barnes brothers, Steve and James decided to hangout at Sally’s Diner, hoping to see some old friends. 13-year old James was seated at the high stool, talking to Sally, a redhead waitress, and owner of the diner.

“What’s yours, sweetie?” She was met with a bright smile and gleaming blue eyes.

“Do you have some hot chocolate, Ma’am?” James inquired when a young girl about his age sat beside him.

“Could you make that two, Sally? Could I have mine with-”

“Marshmallows? Gotcha, sugar,” Sally interrupted the young girl. Her smile was shining with excitement for the sweet treat. She looked at James and shyly said, “I love marshmallows.”

“Me too,” inserted the older Barnes boy, Steve. The girl gleefully giggled at the tall boy who sat beside him. James looked dumbfounded and glared at his brother. He eyed him. His thoughts said, “You hate marshmallows.”

Sally leaned in front of him.

“Would you like some marshmallows too, sweetie?”

“I didn’t know you had marshmallows.” He loved those things. His mother used to sneak him some marshmallows in his hot chocolate during Christmas morning. Truly, a treat for the boy who willingly plowed their sidewalk after a heavy snow. “Are you gonna charge me extra for it, Ma’am?”

“Nah, for you, it’s on the house,” Sally offered with a wink. James looked at his brother and the girl already talking about going to the school’s winter formal together. He was getting grumpy but he didn’t want to ruin such a nice winter day.

“On second thought, I don’t want any marshmallows.”

Red House, New York. 1946.
James Buchanan Barnes was…in a word, a rebel. Often timid and quiet, anyone rarely ever knew what was on his mind. Especially not his father, whose focus was directed more to the eldest Barnes boy, Steve. He was the type that often got associated with the town’s lesser promising kids. When his father wanted him to be interested in chess when he was eight, he wanted to play baseball. Steve got into the game of chess, among other things that made Steve the most popular boy in school.

James, however, was a mama’s boy. The ladies in their family didn’t treat him like he was an outsider. But the one person’s approval that mattered to him the most was the one he couldn’t get. It was perhaps, ironic, how James became the young man he was. He badly wanted to feel loved by his father, but almost never did anything he wanted him to do. Perhaps, all he wanted was to be loved without needing to be much like his brother Steve.

That night in the Barnes residence after the brawl, James greeted his mother with a peck on the cheek. The sound of the motor of your father’s car began to fade away. “Is everything all right, Mama?” Winifred sighed, shaking his head. They both got inside the house and James noticed his papa in the dining table. His forehead resting on his palm.

“Hey, pop.”

“Why weren’t you home for dinner?”

“I was out.” George slammed his hand on the table, making the plates and utensils jump and clink.

“Of course you were out! You just got here! I’m asking you where the hell you’ve been!” James didn’t answer. “You were out with your slacker friends again, weren’t you?” James mocked him, flipping the toothpick inside his mouth - being completely unfazed by the threatening tone of his papa. “Answer me, boy!”

“Fine, yes I was out with my friends. Oh, I’m sorry, my slacker friends. There, ya happy?” George finally stood in front of his boy, sizing him up. James, on the other hand, had no idea where his mockery and disrespect were getting him into. George grabbed the toothpick out of James’ mouth, wounding the inside of his lips.

“Ow! Fuck!” The boy grunted, anger erupting in his face, then a slap was thrown into his face, the assault aimed at his lips. His head turned sideways at the blow.

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth, you little punk?” Still defiant to submit, his eyes glared at his father.

“Bucky…” his mother softly called him and rubbed his back. “Apologize to your father.”

“I’m sorry I cussed, papa.” His apology came out so easily, implying how often this happened but he never bothered doing something about it. George accepted his apology without question in order to get what he wants.

“You’re gonna marry Y/N.”

“WHAT?” He yapped, turning to his mother who seemed to already know what’s going on. “Pop, did you hear just what you said? You’re asking me to marry Steve’s girlfriend? The girl who just went out of our house crying a while ago?!” He pointed his thumb backward, gesturing their driveway where your father’s car was parked a minute ago. “Is that why you specifically wanted me to be at dinner tonight?!”

“No. But since your brother chickened out the last minute, there’s nothing we could do, son.”

“That’s bullshit!”

“Language!”

“Why do I got to do this? Why can’t Steve go? It’s his girlfriend!”

“She’s pregnant son.”

“Wow.” James sarcastically chuckled as he put his hands on his waist and started pacing in the hallway. He rubbed his face with the whole of his palm with frustration. No wonder she was crying. She’s pregnant and Steve’s a fucking coward. Some coward for a golden boy.

“You must really hate me, pop, don’t you? You’re sending me to marry a girl I barely know, who, by the way, is my brother’s girlfriend! Just because she’s fucking pregnant!”

“James! What did I tell you about cursing in front of your mother?!”

“George…let the boy be. You just put him in a very difficult situation.”

“You’re doing this ‘cause you hate me, don’t you? Don’t you, Pop?” His jaws were glued together saying this. “I’m just James, your other son. The expendable one. It’s all right if my dreams are out the window just ‘cause your first-born gotta go to freakin’ Oxford and make his dreams come true! What a father you are.”

“James Buchanan Barnes! I won’t tolerate any more of this tone you’re having with me.”

“But it’s not fair, papa! The baby’s not my responsibility! It’s Steve’s! Whatever happened to taking responsibility for our actions, huh, pop?” His question made his father look down. He turned to the stairs to yell at his big brother. “Hey, Steve! You better get your chicken-ass down here and settle this with Pa!”

James’ body turned around and once he faced his father, he was met with another open hand on his face. “One more line of disrespect, son, I swear, I’ll send you to military school.” George’s tone was now calm but more compelling.

James was never one to do something he doesn’t want. All of his interests - mechanic work, carpentry, and music, never once coincided with his father, forever marking him as the black sheep of the family. Steve, on the other hand, was effortlessly intelligent and easily got interested in what his father wanted for him. Always obedient, except this time, ironically, when his obedience was needed the most. With favoritism being the only obvious reason, George let his eldest son off the hook.

In his whole life, this predicament irked James the most. Getting married at seventeen is not something to take lightly. Hell, what was he thinking? Getting pregnant at eighteen and having to carry the baby alone is something no young woman should do. What would he be doing being Y/N’s husband? How would that work out between the two of them?

What about Steve’s baby? Was he supposed to take care of it? Make himself the baby’s daddy? Is all of that better than the other thing? His thoughts drifted back to his father’s last two words: military school. Anywhere else’s better than here, James thought to himself. It struck him an idea.

“If I marry her…What’s in it for me?”

Chapter Text

Two days have passed since the dinner at the Barnes residence. You were staring at yourself in the mirror as you contemplated everything at once, but not really coming to a specific thought when your brother knocked on your doorstep even though it was open. You turned around to look at him.

“Hey, Bruce. Come in.” He smiled at you and walked over to you and sat on the bed. You moved the stool near your bed so you could be near him. “What’s up?”

“Y/N, are you really getting married?” You shrugged at his innocent question. He knew you were pregnant, but never made a fuss about it.

“I don’t know...this is stupid. Steve doesn’t even wanna marry me.”

“He’s a jerk. I like Beamin’ Barnes better.”

“Beamin’ Barnes?”

“His brother, James. That’s his name, right? Me and my friends call him Beamin’ Barnes ‘cause he’s cool,” he stated with a smile. You looked for his dark brown eyes behind those specs and said, “What did I tell you about these things?” You gently pulled his eyeglasses away from his face and grabbed a clean facial tissue from your dresser to wipe it with.

“You need to keep these clear, okay? You can’t keep these on and still keep bumpin’ anywhere.” He nodded at you before saying, “He’s here for you.”

“Steve??” You jumped at your seat.

“No. Beamin’ Barnes. He’s out on the porch waiting for you. Said he didn’t wanna come in but needed to see you.” You slumped back in your seat then gave back Bruce’s specs to him. “Here. I better go see James.”

When you got downstairs, you gently pressed your skirt down and fixed your top before opening the door, when James stood up from the bench and stroke his hair. He wasn’t chewing on a toothpick this time. He put his hands on his pockets and gave you a small, lopsided smile.

“Hey, doll. Sorry to bother you.”

“How are you doing, James?”

“Was hoping I could talk to you in private. Mind if I take you to Sally’s for a soda?”

“I can’t drink soda, but sure, I’d like to go out right now.”

“We’ll have some milkshake, then.” You smiled at his offer and then went inside the cream-colored Cadillac he drove in.

It was a 10-minute drive to Sally’s Diner and when you arrived, the place wasn’t as packed as it should be on a Summer day. You sat on a corner booth and he ordered you what you wanted - a chocolate milkshake with extra whipped cream and two cherries on top. You hesitated to indulge at first, but a delicious milkshake was definitely a good idea.

The extra cherry was ordered with only a wink at the waitress from his piercing blue eyes. He ordered himself a strawberry milkshake with whipped cream, extra chocolate drizzle, and one cherry on top.

It took you long enough to hold your thoughts. You wondered why James came to see you. Why not Steve? Why did he have to bring me here? As if he read your thoughts, he began talking. “You must be wondering why we’re here. Coming here to see you was my idea. Steve didn’t ask me or anythin’ like that.” For sure, he already knows about you and Steve.

“What did you wanna talk to me about, James? Did Steve say anything? You’re not here to apologize for him, are you?” You badly wanted to ask. But whenever you thought of doing so, you always remembered how Steve treated you since that night in their house. Cold. No eye-contact. Barely any word from him.

He rolled his eyes and chuckled sarcastically. “Of course not.” You could see the resentment in his eyes at the mention of Steve’s pending apology. “I came here to tell you that...” He paused. “Steve already left for Oxford last night.” You gasped at the news he tried hard to break to you slowly.

“And..my pop asked me to do what Steve couldn’t.” You held your breath. When you thought things have already gotten worse, Steve has already left the country. He left you. And your baby. You held your belly and then sighed when you looked at James.

“You mean to tell me...you’re going to marry me??”

“That is...if you’ll let me, doll,” He said with a small, lopsided smile.

Your orders were served to your table as you held on to what he just said. You stared at your glass of milkshake. Your eyebrows furrowed as you thought of this new development. How on earth did he and his family get to this solution??

He started sipping his own milkshake that it almost bothered you that this seemed like some school play that he can easily replace Steve in.

“Did your father put you up to this?”

“Well...Yeah,” he shrugged.

“Then I’m not doing it. I’m not marrying you, James.” You looked away and kept your hands fumbling with each other on your lap.

“Look, I can’t remotely imagine how hard this must be for you, Y/N. But I know you’re being put up to this too. I know your parents would never let you go through this alone.”

You remained silent. He’s right. It has become a daily habit with your parents to talk about getting married. And it’s only been three days since you knew you were pregnant. Two days since that dinner at Steve’s house. When will Daddy’s sermons end?

Your eyebrows furrowed at the predicament. Would you really dare marry the brother of your baby’s father? Just for the sake of getting married? Just so you wouldn’t be called a tramp or a harlot again?

“Y/N…”

You looked at him thoughtfully at his call of your name. “Why are you doing this, James? What on earth made you decide to do this on Steve’s behalf?” You demanded.

“Would you at least take a sip of your milkshake first? I feel bad having that extra cherry ignored. Take a sip, then I’ll answer your question.”

You furrowed your eyebrows again as you leaned down to take a sip on your milkshake. It was almost frozen and the chocolate flavor was everything that you needed to taste at such a stressful moment. James smirked as he watched you enjoy your chocolate milkshake and denying it.

“The Barnes men always take responsibility for their actions.” A quote heavily used around the Barnes clan was his only answer. You’ve heard this quote being said by Steve once before. And it annoyed you how he couldn’t live up to it right now when you needed him the most. James went on.

“That night after you had dinner at our place, my pop told me about you and Steve. I’m really sorry, Y/N.” It annoyed you once again, being apologized to. “I know that bailin’ on something, especially on someone ain’t like him at all. He’s batshit scared right now, for sure.”

You tell me, you thought. You stared at him, waiting for him to go on. “Consider this. That baby in your womb is a Barnes. We’re not about to let you go through it all without any help. Our family has responsibility for you and your baby, Y/N. The least we could do is keep our word. That’s what I’m here to do.”

You took another sip of your milkshake as you considered his last statement. He had a point, but still, you didn’t understand why he was willing enough to marry you. There has to be a catch of some sort.

“Do you really know what you’re about to get in to, James? If you’re going to marry me, you’re going to take care of me and the baby. Steve’s baby. Are you really ok with that?” He looked out the window as he thought about your questions. “You’re still a junior, James. You still have two years of high school to finish. I can’t have you drop of out high school just because...your stupid brother knocked me up. It’s stupid.”

He leaned closer across you and put his weight on his elbows on the table. “I should say the same thing to you. I know you’re a strong girl, Y/N. Smart too. But I’d hate to see you do the same thing, just because my bastard brother can’t handle it. At this point, it doesn’t matter who you get married to. M’pretty sure you can’t wait to get out of the house just as I am. If we get married, we can leave town. Maybe go to the city. Start a new life. I’ll help you take care of the baby.”

“As his what? His uncle?” You asked with a tone of sarcasm you only realized after saying. You both chuckled at the thought and shook your head. “What’s in it for you, James? You don’t have to do this because it’s not your baby. And I’m not your girlfriend. You can still live your life as you intended to. Why would you waste it all away? I’m pretty sure you aren’t doing this for me. So be honest with me now.”

James drew a deep sigh. “OK. You caught me. But I wasn’t about to fool you, doll. Everything I said was true.” He paused for a moment and looked into your eyes before saying, “Actually, you’re the one helping me. I’m just returning you the favor.”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific than that, James.”

“If I marry you, I get outta the house. Outta my papa’s sight.”

“That’s it? That’s why you’re going through all the trouble of getting married to me and raising my baby? So you could get out of your house? Isn’t it easier to just run away?”

“I just looked stupid and silly after everything you just said, didn’t I?”

You smiled at him. “Just a little.”

He smiled back but his eyes shifted to being serious again. “Look. I already told you. That baby is a Barnes. Think of it as a family responsibility which I’m willing to do.” You sighed. Uncertainty still painted on your face.

“I’m not my brother, Y/N. You can take my word for it.”

“I know you’re nothing like Steve,” you declared with a tone of slight disgust, which he did his best not to take any offense from. You realized your words as soon as they came out. “I’m sorry.”

He chuckled in annoyance then turned his gaze to you. “Nah. I’m used to it, doll.” But the hurt is evident in his eyes. “So, do we have a deal?”

“I’ll marry you on one condition.” He leaned in once again and sipped from his milkshake as he waited for you to go on. “You are not to touch me in bed. We’re not going to have sex. Ever.”

James smiled a devilish grin as he bit the cherry from its stem. You furrowed your eyebrows at him as he did this. “And you’re never gonna change your mind ‘bout that?”

“James…”

“All right, I’m sorry,” he put his hands up in surrender. The cherry stem still held by his fingers. “I forgot who I was talkin’ to.” He smiled like a good boy, still chewing on the cherry. “I promise you, doll. I ain’t doin’ anythin’ you don’t want me to.” You drew in a deep sigh and then shook his hand in agreement to the deal.

During the ride home, you and James were mostly quiet. He drove slowly this time compared to when you were on the way to Sally’s Diner. He was a pretty good driver.

“Do you feel full? I know I am,” he remarked, his eyes glued to the road.

“Me too. Could we turn on the radio?” He smiled at you when you asked.

“I thought you’d never ask.” He then turned the knob of the radio. “Mind searching for channels for me, doll? Can’t focus on driving.”

“Sure,” you said and did just that. A big band was playing a familiar tune that made James screech at you, “W-w-wait, wait! I love that song!”

You smirked when you changed back the channel. “Easy Living” was playing. “That’s Billie Holiday. You like her?”

“You kiddin’ me? I love that woman. And I looove this song.” He started singing along to the radio. You watched him singing, completely unbothered that he looked silly.

“I love that song too. I wish she sang longer than the band played,” you mumbled.

“The song is too short,” you both said in unison, startling you.

“I didn’t know you liked music this much,” he remarked.

“Are you kidding? I listen to Frank Sinatra to sleep. Ella Fitzgerald on a bad day.”

“Oh, I love ‘em both too. Ella’s amazing. You noticed how she changed her singing style in the past seven years?”

“Oh god, yes. And I love it that she still sounds so good even with that change. I miss her scattin’, though.”

“I love that stuff. I learned scattin’ because of ‘er.” The wrinkles formed on the side of James’s eyes as he smiled.

After two more songs, you finally arrived at your street. James pulled over under the shade of a big tree right across your house. He turned off the engine.

“Look, Y/N. I know we don’t exactly like the position we’re in. But we can be friends, right? We don’t have to hate each other?”

“I don’t hate you, James. I’m just...sad. Disappointed at your brother. And you don’t deserve to be in this mess. I guess...I should be grateful that you’re here, savin’ my sorry ass.”

“Naw, you’re savin’ mine too, doll. Oh, which reminds me. Since we’ve already agreed, I brought you somethin’,” he handed out a pink rose-colored ring box out of his jacket pocket. “Just to make it official, y’know. My papa told me to let you wear this.” The velvet box revealed a simple but elegant art deco diamond ring on a silver band.

“Would you like to try it on?” He asked. You swallowed on your throat, not knowing what to say. The ring was exquisitely beautiful. But the moment wasn’t...perfect. “It’s okay if you don’t wanna wear it yet. I’ll give it to you anyway. Wear it when you’re around our parents or somethin’.”

“Thank you, James.” You accepted the ring box and closed it.

“I know you’ll look prettier in it.” He had a sincere look in his eyes that you knew you were staring at for too long.

“Thanks. I’ll tell you if it fits well.”

“Just call.” He smiled. “Oh, lemme get your door.” He went out of the car and rushed to your side and opened the door for you.

“You didn’t have to, James.” He laid out his hand to help you from your seat.

“Hey, we have a deal. And I just gave you that ring. That means I’ll always open the door for you.” When you stood up, you both realized the two of you were standing too close to each other. “Lemme walk you to your door,” he whispered, almost stuttering.

You kept the ring box inside your palms. Your arms down as you crossed the street. James brushed his hand over his hair and kept his hands in his pockets. When you reached your door, the skies were orange and the air was getting cool.

“James...are you sure you’re doing this?” Concern painted in your face.

“Positive. I’m with you ‘til the end’a the line, doll.”

“Is that part of your vows? ‘Cause it sucks,” you managed to joke. Another smile drew in your face. He smiled back at you, relieved that you weren’t so sad anymore.

“I’ll think of something better. Nothin’ too cheesy.”

“That’s better. Thanks for the milkshake. And the ring. I’ll call you tomorrow ‘bout it.”

“Anytime, doll,” he winked at you then walked away from your doorstep. You watched him cross the street and get inside the car. He waved at you when he passed by your house and on the way home.

Once you got inside the house, you caught Bruce sitting on the bottom of the staircase, probably waiting for you to come home.

“How d’it go?”

You sighed and then held the ring box tightly. You sat beside him and wrapped one arm around him.

“I’m getting married to James.”

Chapter Text

The wedding was arranged. You had expressed to your mother that you wanted a civil wedding. She sternly disagreed and said, “You will only get married in front of the eyes of the Lord, Y/N. This is the last time you will ask me of this.” You simply wanted to get through it without the unnecessary number of eyes that would witness all this. A disgrace wedding.

Your dress was prepared neatly in your room as your mom helped you fix your hair. You put your simple makeup on. A foundation, eyeliner, blush on, and matte red lipstick.

While most brides look at themselves in the mirror hours and minutes before the ceremony, you were staring outside the window of your room. You asked your mother and the whole entourage to leave except for your best friend, Wanda. The redhead closed the door of your room quietly. “Are you okay?” You sighed deeply at her question, barely blinking.

“What have I gotten myself into, Wanda? I’m eighteen and getting married. And the man I love is not the one waiting for me at the altar.”

Wanda walked to your side and looked at you with searching eyes. “Just so you know, I wish I were a witch so I could put Steve under a punishing spell for hurting you this way. You know I don’t care about this church stuff.” You looked at her. “But I care that you love Steve. This baby was conceived out of love. Maybe not much from him as we know now, but from you. Don’t ever regret this, Y/N.” You sighed again. You found it ridiculous that it’s so easy to get married but so difficult to get divorced.

“Besides,” she added. “Your groom isn’t so bad.”

Two weeks ago

When you told your father that you would be married to James, he objected. He was concerned about James’ smarts and abilities. He even talked about setting you up with the son of a friend of his, Clint Barton. Your father even went to the point of guilt-tripping you into agreeing to meet him. It took every ounce of patience from you to go without making it difficult for your parents.

Clinton Barton was the youngest son of a rich couple, Harold and Edith Barton. Clint was quite known among kids his age for his outstanding skills in archery. You knew of him yourself but never once met him because he studied in a private school.

You were pacing back and forth in your room, trying to contemplate on meeting Clint Barton. And on what you must say to James. James. You realized you’ve already made a deal and you weren’t even able to argue well enough with your father to convince him that James would be a fine husband. You decided to give him a call. You’ve had a deal anyway. Technically speaking, you were already engaged to him, after all.

After two rings, James’s mother answered the phone. “Hi, Mrs. Barnes? Is James home? It’s me, Y/N.”
“Oh, hi, sweetie. Hold on, he’s in his room.” It took almost a minute and on the other end of the line, you heard heavy footsteps coming downstairs in a rush.

“Hey. Y/N?” James greeted. His voice somehow sounded different on the phone than in person. It was huskier, a little deeper.
“James? Hi.”
“Something wrong? Did the ring fit?”
“I haven’t tried it on yet. Could you come over? I need to talk to you about something.”
“Sure, doll. I’ll be right down.”

In twenty minutes, James arrived in the same cream Cadillac car you rode on the day you went for some milkshake. You were already seated on the porch and stood up when he walked towards you. He smiled at you with a slightly worried expression.

“Hey. Everything all right? You sounded worried.” You asked him to sit with you on the porch and he did so and sat beside you. You were holding the ring box he gave you with both your hands, almost hiding it. Then you began.

“My father wants me to meet this guy...Clint Barton. He’s the son of-”
“I know who he is.” He cut you off, making you look directly at him. His face dropped a little at the thought. “Your father wants you to marry Barton?”
“Well, yeah, I guess,” you shrugged as you played with the ring box. “I’m still supposed to meet him tomorrow morning.”
“You sound like you don’t wanna do it,” he remarked, making you shoot a glance at him. You realized he was right.
“I don’t. I can’t believe someone else besides our families know about me. About this. And here I am looking like some lost puppy who needs an owner or something.” James huffed at your statement.

“You better stop thinking that way about yourself, doll,” he said and grabbed the ring box from you. He took out the ring from the box and offered his hand to you. “Gimme your left hand, would ya?” Without saying anything, you slowly brought your left hand to his, the smooth fingers of your skin sliding on his rough ones. It felt a bit strange being held by someone who’s not Steve. But it was okay. He gently held on to your fingers and slowly slid the ring on your finger. It fit you perfectly. The corner of his mouth raised to form a small smile.

“I told you you’ll look prettier in it.”
It took you a moment before uttering, “Thank you, James.”
“Tell you what. Go meet that Barton guy. Consider his chances. I don’t wanna make you feel like you don’t have a choice, Y/N. You always have a choice. You can even choose not to marry me.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“I’m saying what I said. Don’t ever think like you don’t have a choice in all this.”
“Shouldn’t you be telling yourself the same thing?”
“I should. I got my own life. But if this is my only chance to prove myself that I’m worth something, be something to someone. To you...Then I’m gonna do it.”

You sighed deeply and interlaced your hand with his. He was startled at your action. However, it was your instinct to do it. He looked at both your hands and smiled on one corner of his lips as he observed the ring on your finger. He was startled but felt comforted by the gesture.

“We already make a great couple, don’t we?”
“I know. It freaks me out, James.”
“I know...It scares me too.”

***

Your father accompanied you to the town’s clubhouse to meet with Clint and his parents. The muscles in your legs felt restless. You wanted to get out and go back home. You and your father came early enough for you to mentally prepare yourself. You don’t even know what to say. Though it’s clear that your father will do most of the talking.

Harold Barton and his son Clint arrived at the clubhouse thirty minutes after you and your father. Harold was a brunet man with tall stature. He wasn’t what you expected from a rich man. He was all smiles and didn’t have a businessman vibe on him. Clint, on the other hand, was a more reserved young man. He was blonde and looked like his smile costs a million dollars. Your fathers shook each other’s hands and so did you and Clint as you all greeted each other.

Harold drank and ordered margaritas as if it were nighttime. It was only 10 in the morning. Clint had to talk to the waiter to tell him not to give his father any more alcoholic beverages. He paid the waiter $20 and ordered a club soda with lime served on a cocktail glass instead. That only did the trick once before his father noticed the changeup.

Clint was also quiet just like you were, just listening to the adults talk. But he glanced at you several times to watch your reactions to your fathers’ conversation. You looked back at him but didn’t say anything. All the formality has been said and done in much less time than expected. Your father was straight to the point. He clearly didn’t want to waste any more time. So did you. You just wanted it to be over. You felt uneasy. You kept your head down and quietly searched on your purse for the ring box.

“Your daughter seems like a fine young lady. Perhaps may even be too quiet for my Clinton,” Harold remarked. He already sounded like he had cotton balls in his mouth.
“They can be quiet together, Harold. Wouldn’t that be nice?” Your father replied with a stupid grin on his face.
“As long as your daughter agrees, I’m fine by it.” You were about to respond but your father interrupted.
“Does your son agree?”
You began picking up your breath as you fidgeted with the ring that was already out of its box.
“Of course, it depends on your daughter, sir,” Clint sternly replied, still observing your behavior.
“My daughter needs a husband, Harold. And I think Clint here-”

“Why don’t I get a say in this, Daddy? Even Mr. Barton and his son are making me choose. Why can’t you?” You kept your hands down, still fidgeting, but you were already wearing the ring.
“And what? Let you marry that scumbag? He’s not even through high school! That boy is up to no good!”
“Sure, because he’s younger than me, obviously. But why do you think he’s taking responsibility in Steve’s place, huh, Daddy? Doesn’t that tell you anything at all?” You began raising your voice. Your father uttered your full name so deeply in his lungs that it made you realize you were still in public. “I’d rather marry someone I know, Daddy.” You turned to Clint. “No offense.”
“You do not know that boy! You belong in places like this, darling, and he belongs in the dump!”
“But I know him better already. No conversation will ever be good with you if you didn’t like what you heard.” You turned to the Bartons. “I’m sorry for the scene, Clint. Mr. Barton. Thank you for your time.” You finally stood up. Everyone in the restaurant was already looking at your table. You quickly walked away and headed out. You were able to hail a cab at the entrance as someone went out of one. At that moment, you didn’t care about leaving your father in the clubhouse. You hopped on the cab and it cruised away. You felt better being away from your father. You couldn’t wait for everything to be over. You kept holding on to the unfamiliar weight and feeling on your left hand.

With so many thoughts in your head, you almost forgot how you ended up on James’s street. But here you were, standing in front of their house. On the brink of being emotional bordering on rage. When you walked towards the door, you began hearing a woman’s familiar singing voice. Soft and cool to the ears - you knew who was singing. You smiled as you rang the doorbell. Your mood instantly lifted upon hearing the music.

You looked at the ring on your finger and held it while you waited. When the door opened, you looked up to a slightly flushed James Barnes. The edge of a toothpick coming out of his mouth. His hair was a little messy and he wore a thin, collared striped shirt over an undershirt, and a pair of khaki pants.

You smiled at him. “I didn’t know you liked Jo Stafford, too.” He removed the toothpick from his mouth before uttering, “Guess I should say the same thing.” He smiled at you as he wiped his face with a towel. “Come in. How did the meeting go?”
“Are you alone?” You asked, taking the hint of his freedom to listen to records on full volume.
“Yep. I’m cleaning the house, too. I wasn’t expecting company.”
“I didn’t mean to disrupt your cleaning. Maybe I should go…”
“No, no, it’s cool. Stay. I’m just about done anyway.”
“Where’s your mom?”
“Mama went to the store. And the parlor. She won’t be back for another two hours. Make yourself comfortable, doll. Just listen to my girl Jo. I’m just gonna take a quick shower. I smell like shit.”

You just smiled and then sat on the couch. You looked around the living room and began remembering Steve again. Now that you were here for James, you felt like a stranger to their house again. You started wondering how Steve might be doing now, and if he’s still thinking about you. You remembered that night you last saw him that it made you tilt your head down. The first thing your eyes set upon was the ring on your finger. Suddenly you were questioning yourself if this indeed was a good idea. If only this were an alternate universe where you could choose to raise your child alone or wait for Steve or even chase Steve in Oxford.

James’s footsteps descending on the stairs interrupted your train of thought. You stood up, holding your purse against your abdomen. James’s hair was now damp and slicked back. He now wore a pressed pair of high-waisted khaki pants and a plain white tee with its sleeves slightly rolled up. He ushered you to the kitchen and served you a glass of orange juice.

“Did the meeting go well?” You realized you didn’t answer him earlier.
“With my father being there? Of course not.”
“What happened?”
“I snapped at him for not making me choose. Even the Bartons were kind enough to consider what I thought.” You sighed sharply.
“What’s on your mind then, doll?” You looked at him. You realized you didn’t exactly process your thoughts yet. All you knew was you didn’t want to get married to Clint Barton. You didn’t want your father making decisions on your life. Now, your sigh was softer but deeper. Almost whispering, James asked, “Do you wanna dance with me?”

Startled, you asked, “What, now?”
“Why not? It’s a waste of good music. Plus. We got the house to ourselves. No one’s here to yell at us. Or judge us…This ain’t much of a dancefloor, but it’s not like we’ll be swingin’ to Jo Stafford.”
“All right, all right. You convinced me enough, Barnes.”

He offered his hand to you and you gave him yours. As if you two were in a speakeasy, your motions were shy. As if the two of you had just met that day. “Give Me Something To Dream About” began playing. Your left hand rested on James’s shoulder, and your right was held by his left one. His right hand was on your waste, gently resting there. He swayed you gently and you began to relax.

“I told my father I didn’t wanna marry Clint Barton.”
“In front of them?”
“Well, I didn’t exactly say that. I told him I’d rather marry someone I know.” He remained silent, eyes glued on you. You went on. “I asked him why don’t I get a say in all this. That even the Bartons respected my decision. Why couldn’t he?”
“You stood up to him?”
“Yeah,” you said in a breath. It just occurred to you that you did. “For the first time in my whole life.”
“Thatta-girl.”
“Then I stormed off. And somehow I ended up here. To tell you.” You startled him, making him stop swaying you.
“Tell me what?” Your hand slowly slid from his shoulder to his chest. You could feel his chest pounding all of a sudden. Then you showed your left hand that bore the ring he gave you.
“I don’t care if my father’s against it. I’d rather marry someone I can trust. You showed me that in just two days. I barely know you but I can feel that I can trust you. I can trust you, can’t I, James Barnes?”

The look on James’s face was something you’ve never seen before. His lips were parted. He closed it when he swallowed on his throat. He must have been dumbfounded by your honesty, however touching. He gently grabbed your hand and raised it near his face before kissing your knuckles lightly. A smile formed on his face. “You can count on me, doll.”

Two Weeks Later

Moments before the ceremony, you were finally dressed and made up. A white Cadillac bridal car was parked outside your house. Wanda helped you with your dress and bouquet filled with tulips. You nervously walked across the hallway, slowly, and you descended the staircase gracefully. Your mother was waiting outside the car. Your small entourage, composed of your little brother Bruce as the ring bearer, Becca Barnes, as the flower girl, already left for church.

The wedding ceremony was held on a Tuesday so it won’t interrupt any regular service. It was intimate enough for a church wedding since only your and James’s family and a small group of relatives was invited. Once the bridal car arrived at the church, your nervousness increased. The future was drawing in so near and so quickly that you wished you could just pause the time. Your mother went out of the car and so did Wanda, but you called her at an impulse. She bent towards the window. “Would you please call James for me?”

“Sweetie, you know you’re not supposed to see the groom. Bad luck.”
“Don’t you think I’m in deep enough shit already? I don’t care. Please, Wanda. I need to talk to him.” Wanda was startled at your scoffing. “I’m sorry. I love you. Please call him.”
“Ok. You’re lucky it’s your wedding day.” Wanda rushed inside the church and looked for James. You shifted in your seat and fixed your dress. You played with the ring on your finger. It didn’t take long and James emerged on the side of the car. He bent down to peek at you from outside the car window.

At the sight of you in your wedding dress and makeup, James swallowed on his throat before asking, “Hey, doll. You called? You know we’re not supposed to see each other until the ceremony.” You gave him a quick glance and said, “Could you come inside?” James didn’t respond but did as you asked. Suddenly, you noticed he smelled good. Like wood spice and orange. You looked at him now, sitting close to you in his black tux. His jaw was cleanly shaven. His brunet hair was neatly parted to one side. “Are you all right?”

“Are you absolutely sure you wanna do this with me?” Bucky shifted in his seat and moved for his body to face you.
“I’m here, aren’t I? I’m ready. I’m nervous, but I’m ready.”
“I’m sweating like hell. And I think I’m about to cry.” But you stopped yourself. James grabbed his handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to you.
“Go ahead. Least you’re not alone this time.” You glanced at him and then at the white handkerchief that bore the initials, “J.B.B.” You accepted it and brushed your fingers over the embroidered initials.
“Will I ever know why you’re so kind to me?” Your eyes were now moist. You were missing Steve so much and wished he was the one waiting for you in the aisle.
“Should there be a reason?” You smiled and shook your head. “I’m with you.” He gently held your cold, sweaty hands. His hands weren’t sweaty, but they felt colder than yours. “I gave you my word, didn’t I?” You nodded. “Do I have yours?”

You drew a sharp breath and looked at him in the eyes. There was sincerity in them. You squeezed his hands and muttered, “You do.”

He gave you a small smile and squeezed your hand back. Then he got out of the car but you grabbed his wrist and told him that he forgot his handkerchief. “Hang on to it. See you at the aisle?” You squeezed the square, white cloth in your palms and then nodded at him. “You better be standing there when I reach the end of it.” He winked at you. By this time, you were already used to his casual winking.

“You got it, doll.”

Moments later, you went out of the car. Both your families waited in anticipation for the ceremony to start. You stood before the door. Holding your tulip bouquet, you drew in a deep breath unknowingly. This was the moment you’ve been dreading. The one moment that would change your life.

The church doors opened and before you stood the small number of family members on each side of the church, looking at you. A harpist began playing a song. They were smiling. But you couldn’t keep looking at them. Your parents stood beside you and so you began walking. Wanda and the small entourage were already standing in position as they await you.

James stood nervously at the end of the aisle. Beside him was Wanda’s twin brother, Pietro, his best man, neighbor, and best friend since childhood. You walked the aisle nervously, your knees wobbling. When every other woman in the world who must be walking down the aisle in their beautiful wedding gown and weeping tears of joy, here you were, weeping sadness deep inside you. Your life unfolding with every step you took.

As the heels of your shoes finally took you to the end of the aisle, you gave each of your parents a peck on the cheek, almost mindlessly as you should have. James stood before you, one hand on his back and the other waiting for yours to hold. When you turned away from your parents and faced him, your hand grabbed his with quite a startling manner — your grip was tighter than you thought it’d be. Your knees still felt wobbly as the moment to say “I do” drew near.

He held your hand tightly enough that you knew you wouldn’t throw yourself out of balance in front of the whole church. “You ready, doll?”

“I’m ready if you are.”

Pastor Phil began to officiate the ceremony. You stared at him mindlessly as he announced to every attendee the true meaning of marriage. With words of unconditional love and respect for one another, Pastor Phil guided you and James to say your vows and finally, your “I do’s.”

With your mind drifting in and out of your wedding ceremony, you were startled when everyone behind you began clapping. “You may kiss the bride,” Pastor Phil said so kindly, his eyes twinkling as he smiled. You and James stared at each other nervously, for you didn’t think of this moment before.

“I know a trick,” James whispered. “Tilt your head to your right.” He held your neck gently with his cold hands and drew you near his face. By the time your lips were barely an inch close to each other, he tilted your head a little more and kissed the very spot where the corner of your lips began. He covered the sides of your mouths when you caught a hint of the smell of his breath. This chaste kiss from his pink lips took long enough for your audience to think you had actually kissed, gaining another round of applause from them.

For a quick moment, he took notice of your startled face. “I told you I ain’t doin’ anythin’ you don’t want me to.”

Chapter Text

One week after the wedding. Manhattan, New York.

The days went by so fast. It has been incredibly awkward being with James in the past couple of weeks. It still feels like yesterday when you first found out you were pregnant. When you first told Steve about it. And when you danced in the cafe. It may have only happened three weeks ago - all that drama and heartache and the engagement. But your feelings for Steve haven’t changed at all. You still loved him the way you always have even before all this. Yet, despite the strength of your love, you can’t help but feel distant from Steve. You called it a nostalgic sadness - if it makes any sense. It’s been almost three weeks since the last time you have spoken to him. And you knew that James would surely let you know if Steve had sent you a letter. He simply didn’t.
You thought of all this while removing your makeup in front of your vanity. James was seated on the edge of the bed, staring blankly in the air, as if his gaze was far away. You noticed.

“James? Something bothering you?” You asked him, your voice softly reaching his ears. He turned his head to face you then he smiled on one side of his face as he sighed heavily.
“Just thinkin’ about us, doll,” he paused, realizing he may have said something he didn’t mean. “Living in the city’s gonna cost us.” Being married to James guaranteed a life away from both your families. You would have loved to still be at home with your mother and to see Bruce everyday - be in that kind of living situation where you only have to worry about school and your chores. But now, you sat looking at the young man seated in a bed you share with him, and you held your slowly growing tummy. Things will never be the same , you thought to yourself.
“That’s okay. I’ll find a job too,” you offered. Both your family and James’ agreed that he will drop out of school so he could find a job and support you both, while you could finish your senior year. The apartment that you’re renting was funded by both your and James’ parents. So now, the rest is up to you and him.
“No,” he denied gently. “We’ve talked about this, remember? You’ll finish school this year.” His voice felt warm, his tone almost begging. You stood up from the stool of your vanity and walked towards him.
“But it’s not fair, James. Not to you.” You sat beside him and realized how you’re still not used to being beside him in bed, but you kept your cool. “None of this is ever fair to you, ok? I can go back to school next year.”
“After you’ve had your baby? We won’t have enough money for school and for the baby. We gotta be smart about this, doll.”
“And was it smart of you to marry me, James?” He gave you a small smile that you couldn’t exactly define, except that it was a good one. He gently took your hand and squeezed it tenderly.
“You should stop doubting me, doll.” He clicked his tongue as he glanced away, then looked back into your eyes and said, “You should stop doubting yourself, too.” You didn’t react but you sighed quietly, looking down. “What is it? What’s the matter?”
“I don’t wanna go back to school...I don’t think I can, James. Please...you have to agree with me.” He looked at you with concerned eyes and caught his breath when you turned over your hand so you could hold his. He couldn’t imagine how it must be like for you to go back to school with your current state - to have gotten pregnant before graduating and being left by Steve, your baby daddy. All that James could take was how you looked when you begged him with the sincerest eyes. He nodded softly.
“Ok. You’re going back when you’re ready.”
“And I’ll get a job.”
“And you’ll get a job.”

The next day, you explored the morning paper’s ads for a job and wrote a few letters and made a few phone calls from the telephone booth just across your apartment building. James got a job at a construction company. He goes to work at 7 in the morning and comes home around 6 in the evening. The construction site was across Central Park West, he said to you over dinner. They were building a new apartment complex that was meant to be finished in the next two or three years. Meanwhile, that afternoon, you spent some time in the kitchen to learn a new dish. You knew how to cook, but you haven’t reached the level of your mother’s cooking just yet. You were still far away from feeding your new family the kind of food you and your little brother have been having yourselves. Simple breakfast meals and mushroom soups have been your menu’s contents for the past couple weeks, and you began to worry that James would miss his mama’s cooking at home. You couldn’t blame him - you missed your mother’s cooking, too. But you still haven’t reconciled with her, not even at your own wedding.

You stood there, blankly browsing through a Majestic Recipes cookbook, which you found in a bookstore that day. It was on sale, and you had some spare change to pay for it. You flipped through a few pages. Your eyes skimmed through details, scanning which recipes looked like the easiest, and that only required what you have in the kitchen. You weren’t having it. Cooking was supposed to be somewhat a mindless thing to do. You’ve noticed your mother cook without having to think so hard, and you began beating yourself up mentally for even overthinking what meal to cook for dinner.
“It’s just one meal , for chrissakes,” You groaned frustratingly, then sighed heavily and immediately went to the living room and turned on the radio. After the static of the radio, the first tunes of trumpets and flutes made you feel comforted. It was an old song, but you knew it pretty well and began swaying your body to the music. Frank Sinatra’s smooth voice began filling the apartment, and you smiled as you walked back to the kitchen. By evening, you learned how easy it was to cook spaghetti with meatballs. You were quite happy with your achievement, as it was nothing you expected.
Your day was filled with worry - getting a job, not getting back to school, and how on earth were you going to feed yourself and the baby inside you...it was overwhelming, but that night, you found that cooking gave you a therapeutic feeling somehow.
James came home tired, but the moment he stepped foot into the apartment, the expression on his facial expression lifted. There was the smell of cooking tomatoes and beef, onions, and spices, and the whole apartment never felt more alive. Plus, Jazz music was playing on the radio. He put down his dirty and dusty things. You heard it and called out his name. When you turned your face around to look at the kitchen door, he was already standing there, leaning on the doorway, smiling at you. You didn’t realize you were smiling, too.
“I knew it was you. I mean, who else could it be?” You said with delight in you, and you continued, “Look, James! I made spaghetti! I’m confident this time. I tasted the sauce a few times like you told me.” You took a small portion of the tomato sauce in the wooden spoon and walked over to James. “Come, have a taste!” Your excitement made you jiggle where you stood, and he noticed it. You fed him with the spoon. Your palm under his chin, as if you were feeding a small child his food. He was hesitant, and perhaps, conscious about how close you were standing. He looked at the spoon and was supposed to taste the sauce, but you interrupted, “I forgot to blow it!” Then you immediately brought the spoon close to your lips and blew the sauce softly. He stared at you as you did so - smiling, and his gaze alternated from your eyes to your lips and went a little out of focus so he could look at the whole of your face. You realized that he was looking when you caught his eyes looking at yours. Then, you slowly brought the spoon back close to his face, in which you softly said, “Here. Should be cool enough.”
He didn’t say anything but smiled and gently held the hand that was holding the spoon, before taking a sip, and his gaze never left you. The skin on your hand had a tingling feeling at the touch of his rough one, but you realized your hand was involuntarily shaking a little, perhaps from all the cleaning and cooking you’ve been doing all afternoon. You swallowed in your throat and held your breath. He hasn’t been this close to your face, or your hand since the night of your wedding.
“Mm, that’s good meat sauce, doll,” he approved with a smile. If there was anyone who was a good cook, it was James, and at that moment, there was nobody else you wanted to show off your new cooking skill but him. “You got me starvin’ all of a sudden. I’ll take a quick shower and come down for dinner, ‘kay? Can’t be standing filthy and stinkin’ ‘round you.” He smiled and headed to the shower. You smiled back then went back to finish cooking. You prepared the table. And then, for a quick moment, you went to the hallway and looked at yourself in the mirror and fixed your hair, and then removed your apron.
Dinner was lovely, and you had James stuffed with your delicious spaghetti. You told him about the cookbook you bought and about the jobs you applied for that day. There was so much to talk about - so much to look forward to in the next few days, that for a long moment there, you didn’t think of Steve. Of course, he was always at the back of your mind, especially when you were so self-conscious about your growing tummy. But tonight, you did something for yourself and you achieved it on your own, and nobody could take that away from you.

The next morning, you received several reply letters from the companies you applied to the day before; each one practically rejecting your application. Before you got to the last letter, you thought to yourself that you would just have to apply for a job at a diner. Job-hunting was tough. But the last letter bore good news. The Bell Company called you for an interview. You didn’t know for what position yet, but at that point, any would do. Your presence was called immediately, and so you rushed for the train and went to the Bell Tower. You arrived at the building at 9:45, but your turn came around at 11:00. A secretary ushered you to the Vice President’s office to meet a man named Brock Rumlow. You’ve never seen a man like Brock Rumlow before. He was wearing a suit, but you could still tell that he was muscular. Unlike most men in suits in New York, Brock Rumlow had handsome facial hair. His dark hair pulled nicely to the back. He greeted you formally.

“Well, Mrs. Barnes, you’re much younger than I expected. Please, have a seat.” He shook your hand and sat down. You shyly took your seat and maintained a calm composure. “I’ve looked at your references and...there’s pretty much...none.” You looked down hearing his remark.
“Nothing to worry, though. I know your story. Newly-wed, expecting a child and all that.” You were surprised that he knew, but you figured that the secretary must have told him. She got a bit chatty with you while you were waiting for your turn. “Where’s your husband now?”
“Oh, he’s working down at Central Park West. Construction.”
“Ah. Hardworking fellow. Good. You both must be pretty excited having your first child.”
You hesitated but smiled at him. “Yes, sir. He’s quite the family man, my husband. What about you? Any kids, Mr. Rumlow?” For a moment there, you couldn’t say where those words came from. It felt almost as if you were both there and out of it. One thing was certain to you: talking about your family made you feel uncomfortable.
“Me? Ah, no. Never been married. And please, call me Brock,” he said, his smile creating creases in his cheeks that made him more handsome. You smiled a little, then nodded. “Well, I understand you haven’t finished high school yet, but we don’t discriminate here at Bell Co. You’ll be put in a position where you will learn everything you’re going to do in your job. No need for prior experience, lucky for you.”
“What?” You asked with surprise and delight in your tone. He smiled nodding at you.
“You got the job, Mrs. Barnes.” He stood up and shook your hand. You asked him to call you by your name as you thanked him and shook back his hand. He asked you to come to work the following day and report under Mr. Fury in Operations. You got home bearing the best news since the last time you remembered having one. You decided to visit James at work since it’s probably just about time for his lunch break. You took quite a walk trying to figure out where the construction site was. You managed to stop for some sandwiches you could bring to James. Besides, you were already starving from all that waiting for the interview.
Finally, you arrived at a construction site that looked block-wide judging from the heavy noise of the construction and the trucks and machines inside. It had a large tarpaulin around the barricades of the site and it read: Belleview Apartments. You were not certain, but it was about the right address, so you asked around for a James Barnes. The moment you mentioned his name, a woman repeated it, as if to confirm if she heard you right.
You turned around looking for that husky voice. Behind you stood a striking woman with red hair and the softest profile in a woman you’ve ever seen. Her lipstick was redder than her hair, and unlike the men in the construction site, there was no hint of dust or crumbs of lumber in her.
“Hi. Natasha Romanov. I’m the Man around here - if you know what I mean.” She reached out to shake your hand and you reached back to shake it and return the smile. “I see you’re looking for Barnes. Are you his sister?” You smiled, pretending it wasn’t awkward to say the next few words.
“No, umm..I’m his wife.” You smiled shyly. One of Ms. Romanov’s eyebrows raised as she looked at you from head to toe as quickly as she could.
“Ah, the famous Mrs. Barnes. Pleasure to meet you. You’re just in time. The men will come down to have their lunch in five minutes. I suggest you wait here.”
“Of course. Thank you, Ms. Romanov. Um, there’re so many workers here. You know everyone?” You asked curiously as you observed the site around you.
“Almost everyone. But mostly those who stand out, you know? Your husband is one of them. He usually keeps to himself, but he’s got a mind in there. Never a dull moment with him,” She said with a smile.
“Yes, he is,” was all you could say.
“Well, I better not waste your time and tell him his cute wife is here. Excuse me, Ms. Barnes.” You exchanged smiles then she left you standing near the entrance of the site, just under the roofed booth where the workers timed in and out. It was the second time that day that you were addressed with your new last name. It felt strange, still. And sometimes both James’ and Steve’s faces would pop in your head when somebody calls you by your new last name.
Among the crowd of men, it took a minute for you to spot James, and when you did, he has already spotted you. He smiled and waved at you. He yelled your name. That charming smile still hasn’t been erased from his face. You waved back and then he ran towards you.
“Natasha told me you were here,” he said with a smile. “How are you?” You noticed he was almost going to give you a kiss on the cheek, but all he managed was brushing a finger on your elbow. “Are you ok? Is it the baby?” He caught his breath, so you asked him to cool down. With a delighted smile, you said:
“I’m ok, James. I brought us lunch. Could we sit somewhere private?”
“Yo, Barnes! That your wife? She’s a looker,” remarked James’s workmate.
“Hey, you ever learn to shut up?” He hissed at the guy without hesitation.
“Hey,” You softly called.
“What? He was hittin’ on you.” Just like that, the smile on his face was replaced by furrowed brows and clenching jaws. “I never liked that guy. Come on, let’s sit in the park.” He took you to a nearby bench just by the entrance of the park. There, you told him your big news. He congratulated you excitedly. That smile was back there again, and his eyes twinkled when they looked at you.
“They’re putting me in operations. I think I’ll be answering phone calls and transferring people through lines, you know?”
“Yeah, I can imagine. Just good you won’t be runnin’ ‘round fetchin’ random stuff or somethin’. Wouldn’t want you moving more than you should.” You gave him a smile.
“I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’m pretty excited.” There was a pause as you both ate your sandwiches. “So...this Miss Romanov woman...she’s very pretty. She Russian?”
“Yeah. Think she grew up ‘ere. Can’t hear any Russian accent from ‘er,” he remarked as he kept a portion of the sandwich in one side of his mouth. “She’s pretty popular among the men. Obviously. But she’s no ordinary dame, y’know. No guy could fool that woman. She’s like, the most together woman I’ve ever known, y’know?”
You chuckled softly. “You two close?” He snorted and then laughed.
“Nah, I don’t think so. I mean, she’s not like most girls I meet. She’s pretty cool, but we’re not that close.” After a short pause, he asked, “Why? You jealous?” He was grinning when you looked at him.
“Haha, very funny, James. Can’t a girl wonder? Besides, she said you stood out among the men. That must’ve counted for somethin’. Maybe she likes you.”
“OK, look. I know you and I are friends, doll. But you gotta stop this, okay?” He held your wrist gently. “I don’t know what you’re thinking. Maybe you’re just bein’ nice and all. But this ain’t helpin’ either of us. We’re married now. It’s complicated as it is. We can’t -”
“I know. I’m sorry...I just didn’t want you to be unhappy. You know, if there’s someone you liked or somebody you wanted to date, I wouldn’t stop you...just because we’re married. And Miss Romanov - Natasha, it’d be a waste if you two liked each other and you’re here stuck with me.”
“And what, have an affair with her while being married to you?” He joked. “Trust me, doll. She don’t like me like that,” he said with a smile. “Now, let’s just eat in peace.”

Chapter Text

Days and weeks passed by and you and James have been preoccupied with your jobs. Your boss, Nicholas Fury, was considerate enough to give you day shifts. You get to arrive home 45 minutes after five - giving you enough time to prepare dinner. Your days at work usually had you glued in your seat beside other women who did the same thing as you - manning the lines and transferring calls from one end to another. Sometimes though, you would be tasked to do secretarial duties - typing documents for Mr. Fury and Mr. Rumlow. Other times, you were sent to deliver the same documents between floors and offices. Their older secretaries weren’t always bothered delivering documents from floor to floor. It was a good break from your routine, so you didn’t mind at all. That gave you more opportunities to get to know your bosses, in a way.

Speaking of which, lately, you have been around your bosses and the people they surround themselves with. You were tasked to take down notes about their meetings and then later sum it up to aid the reports that your bosses write down. It was a good shift from answering phone calls, but sometimes, you wondered why didn’t the older ladies get the additional secretarial job. But you began to understand, and maybe suspect that earning favor from the bosses, especially Mr. Rumlow, wasn’t exactly like you initially thought it was.
At home, you began receiving bouquets almost every night; and it’s not like you had a secret admirer. The card always said that the flowers were from “Brock,” as if you were even on a first-name basis at work. At first, you thought it was just a gentleman boss’s courtesy or something, and you even thanked him when you went to work the next day. But when the delivery of bouquets continued being delivered week after week, you started to worry. Plus, it was never the assorted kind anymore. After that one bouquet he sent the first time, the rest that followed became strictly roses. A mix of different colored-roses. White roses. Then pink. Then ultimately, red. Whatever those colors meant, you knew it wasn’t right or even comfortable for you anymore. You didn’t like throwing away fresh flowers, but you did. You had to. And finally, James noticed it when he saw the trash bin under the sink. He called for you as you were just coming out of the shower.

“What’s with the flowers in the trash?” He asked from outside the bathroom. Panicking, you hurried and wore your thick robe even before you could dry yourself off properly. You opened the door, steam coming out of the shower. You held a towel for your hair when you got out. You had a look of worry and maybe, a little bit of guilt. “Are they from Steve?” He finally asked.

“What? No,” For a second there, him mentioning Steve’s name made your heart skip a bit. You wished he didn’t mention Steve or think that the roses were from Steve. Now you wished they were from Steve. Then you wouldn’t have thrown them away. You sighed deeply and tucked a lock of your wet hair behind your ear. “They’re from my boss.”

“Oh. You get a promotion or something?” You shook your head. He raised his eyebrow. “He likes you.” He immediately understood. You sighed.

“He knows I’m married, James. I’ve spoken to him about it.”

“And?”

“I dunno. Didn’t work, I guess. Y’know...he’s the go-getter type. Doesn’t stop until he gets what he wants.”

“Do you like him?” You put your hand over your chest in shock.

“What? Eew, no. Man’s a proud jerk. And old.” Now it was James’s turn to sigh heavily, then he brushed his fingers over his hair.

“Has he been hittin’ on you at work?” He asked, clenching his jaw. It took him 5 seconds to form that question instead of asking you what he really wanted: Did he lay a finger on you?

You tried recalling it, and you thought it was nothing major. “No. He always kept me around though. In meetings with other bosses and an’ol that stuff…” You trailed as you walked towards the bedroom while drying the tips of your hair with the towel. James followed.
“But sometimes, I feel like he’s feeling me up with the way he looks at me,” Your voice shook a little as you admitted.
“Does he know you’re pregnant?”

“Yeah. They were pretty upfront about my personal life since the interview. You know, high school dropout, just got married and pregnant.” You wished you didn’t have to say that.

“Hey,” he said softly. “We’ve talked about this, din’t we? You’re going back to school when you’re ready.” You turned around and looked at him sadly, then nodded. “You’re no dropout. You’re just taking a break, that’s all. Like me,” he smirked and raised his eyebrows suggestively. Whenever he did that, your mood just lifted instantly. You smiled at him.

“All right...Go. It’s your turn in the shower. You smell like shit,” You said, grinning then closed the door before it got too awkward. James was left staring at the door, smiling, before he went to take that shower.

The next day, everything went as they usually do at the construction site. Except, James was in his head. He didn’t talk as often as he normally did. It was only 12 noon. The buzzer for the first lunch break went off. The workers went down and ate at the small, specially-built cafeteria on the ground floor. The buzzer then would go off again after 30 minutes for the next set of workers scheduled to have their lunch. James mindlessly took his portions of food and also mindlessly sat at one of the tables. He probably didn’t even notice how preoccupied he was. All he knew was that the feeling he had was familiarly bothersome.
When his shift was over, the buzzer went off again. James was chewing on a toothpick when he was walking. As soon he was in sight, Natasha Romanov called his attention.
“Heading home?” She asked him. James simply nodded.
“What’s up?”
“There’s something I wanted to ask you. You in a hurry? Mind sitting with me for a bit?”
“Nah, I got time. Can’t stay long, though.”
“Great.” They walked out of the site after clocking out. Natasha offered to buy him a hotdog for the trouble, and he accepted. “You’re bothered about something,” she remarked.
“That’s not a question,” he shot back. Then sighed and looked away. They sat on a bench just in the opening of Central Park. “Well. Yeah. It’s probably nothing…”
“It’s your wife, isn’t it?” Natasha wasted no time.
“Is it that obvious?” He asked, making her scoff, and then he sighed again. “It’s just this guy, y’know. Her boss. He likes her. Sent flowers over. In our house, mind you. Think I should worry?” Natasha squinted at him, then gave him a lopsided smile before answering.
“You’re asking me as if you weren’t worried already,” was all she said. Her lopsided smile was replied with a guilty, shy smile from James.
“I mean, I’d worry too. I’m sure your wife isn’t into her boss or something. I’d say you shouldn’t worry, but don’t let your guard down. And don’t go doing stupid things out of jealousy. ‘Kay?” James looked at her blankly, with contemplative eyes.

***

On Saturday that week, Betty, Mr. Fury’s secretary called you at 6:30 in the morning to tell you that you had to report to the office. You were still in bed when you answered the phone, but the moment you were told, “Mr. Fury needs your assistance today. Better hurry, darling. He doesn’t like his employees late.”
“Shit,” you muttered, pushing away the covers. You politely apologized and reassured Betty that you would be on your way before hanging up. James groaned on the other side of the bed. He rubbed his eyes as he sat on the bed.
“Where you goin’?” He asked in a hoarse voice.
“I gotta get there before Mr. Fury arrives at the office,” you replied without looking at him as you rushed, opening the cabinet to look for the right dress. You chose the one you were saving for Monday but grumbled about that since you carefully planned your work outfits.
“I’ll drive you,” James offered. His voice was a little louder than when he first spoke. You stopped in your tracks and turned around.
“Really?” You asked with googly eyes. He simply smiled and said, “Yeah,” then you joyfully laid your dress on the bed and knelt on it on one knee so you could give him a quick hug. After that, you hurried to the bathroom to shower. When you were done and got back to the bedroom, the bed was already made and James was gone. A few minutes later, he called from outside the bedroom and told you that he’d be waiting in the car. You yelled back an “OK!” as you hurried to put on makeup and fix your hair.
It was only five minutes to seven but you wished the elevator went down faster. As soon as the doors opened to the ground floor, you ran out until you found the car outside. James already had the motor running. You could easily see from the entrance of the apartment that he was chewing a toothpick - a habit you rarely saw him do since you got married.
You went inside the car all flustered and rushed. You rarely rushed to work because normally you went in at 8 A.M. and you took the trains. You sighed heavily as you readied yourself for the trip but James put a paper bag on your lap.
“Here. Made you some toast.” He started driving the car into the road.
“Crap. I totally forgot about lunch. Thank -”
“That ain’t lunch. Eat it now,” he said as he glanced at his rearview mirror. You stared at him like a child who just got a surprise candy. “My Gramma always told me never to go to work on an empty stomach,” he added. You gave him a grateful smile and thanked him as genuinely as you could sound. He nodded once and winked at you. He smiled a small one on one corner of his mouth. As you went on to open the bag and take a piece of toast, his smile widened to the other corner of his mouth.
The drive took about 25 minutes, so you got there just before 7:30. The bag of fresh toast was already consumed by the time you arrived. You weren’t sure yet if you were going to be working all day like in the weekdays, but James said he’s going to call you at lunch so he’d know if he could pick you up from work. You declined because you thought that maybe he had other things to do, but he insisted, and you agreed to wait for his call at noon.

James drove around Manhattan, just checking out the town and giving himself some time to think. He thought about the future. He thought about Steve. And you. And your baby. And he thought about Rumlow. Eventually, his mind went back to the conversation he had with Natasha. And before he realized it, his stomach growled a little loudly. Good thing he just passed by L&L Automat, a diner that had a perfectly vacant parking spot for him. He pulled over and parked in that spot and got inside the restaurant. He observed the green and pink chiffon-colored walls of the diner as he walked over the counters, and then went ahead and sat on one of the counters. A dirty-blonde waitress, wearing the same green and pink chiffon uniform approached him. She was already holding a coffee pot ready to serve it. He noticed her nametag displaying her name - Angie.

“What can I getcha, hon? Coffee?”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks. Please,” James responded and continued chewing his toothpick. “Can I get some breakfast too?”
“Sure, hon. We got bacon and pancakes. Eggs and some schueblig sausages.”
“Sounds good. Think I want bacon and pancakes. Could you throw in some eggs, too?” The waitress nodded. I’ll tell the cook,” She replied, then poured his cup with black coffee.
“Well, it’s certainly a surprise seeing you here,” a familiar slightly raspy voice suddenly said. James looked over his shoulder and saw Natasha. She looked more relaxed than usual in her navy blue summer dress. The red waves of her hair fell to her shoulders more freely than when she was at work, where her hair was done and pulled in pins. James chuckled and waved at her as he took a sip of his cup of coffee. “Aren’t you a little too young for that?” She smirked as she sat beside him.
“Very funny, Romanov. I’m not 12.” There was a pause. “You here often?”
“Pretty much,” She said then leaned over to him to say almost in a whisper. “My girlfriend works here.” She glanced at the waitress with a smile.
“No way. Angie?” He asked in surprise and raised his voice, making the waitress turn around to look at them. She then smiled a big smile and joyfully walked towards them.
“Nat! Oh, I didn’t know you knew this handsome fella.”
“You do, actually. I told you about him. Newly married fella? Angie, this is James Barnes.” She turned to James. “Barnes, this is my good friend Angie Martinelli.” They shook hands as he smiled and said hi to her, then she went to get his order for him. As soon as Angie came back with his food, James asked, “So, uhh...how long have you two been...friends?”
The two ladies exchange smirks but Natasha answered. “Oh, I think...five years? That was when I first moved here. But we’ve been close friends since…” she trailed off as she gave Angie a doting look. “...two years ago.” James smiled as he nodded at that and began eating his breakfast. They talked over coffee and breakfast and James realized that it was the first time he had any real fun conversation with other people since this whole thing started.

As the conversations faded in his earshot, he remembered the days he had in high school. In a fast recollection, he remembered going to the music store or hanging out in his father’s garage, tinkering old cars. Other times he hung out with his friends and tried a smoke or two, maybe even shared a bottle of alcohol just to make sure nobody got home drunk. As quickly as that reminiscing happened, he also thought about what the future might be like. He thought about how his and your life together had become so uncertain even though it was supposed to head to a planned path.
“You’re in your head again, Barnes,” Natasha remarked. James just looked suspiciously at her, but she gave him back an equally suspicious look, furrowing her eyebrows. “Where is your wife?”
“You’re asking me like I killed ‘er or somethin’.”
“Nah. You’re a wuss. You act all tough - chewing that disgusting toothpick all the time but deep inside? You’re a little puppy dog.” Natasha said with an almost flat affect. “Come on, what’s goin’ on?”
James rolled his eyes at her. “She was called to work this mornin’. Drove ‘er there. Might pick ‘er up for lunch or somethin’.” He put a fresh toothpick in his mouth again and added, “Why do you keep askin’, anyway?”

“Like I said. You’re a little puppy dog.” James rolled his eyes as he shook his head. Natasha chuckled and nudged his shoulder. “Look. You’re my friend and...you’re in a deeper bind than you acknowledge.” Her tone became more serious now. It’s as if James just realized that he did have an actual friend in Natasha. That they were more than just boss and subordinate, more than coworkers, and definitely, more than the friendly banter they keep having. He looked at Natasha with eyes that showed her a deep pain and frustration, but also a lot of grit.
“Why don’t we take a walk?” She suggested. They left the diner. James said goodbye to Angie and Natasha told her that she’ll be back around 10, just about the time Angie would be getting off from her shift.
James and Natasha walked around and all the way to the park as they talked about James’s situation. It was the first time that James told anyone else about the deal with Steve and marrying you, and you having Steve’s baby. His friends back in Red House only knew that he was going away to get married. He never told them to whom he was getting married to, but he figured that by now, everyone probably already knew. He didn’t exactly want to leave Red House. He liked it there so much. Occasionally, he visited Pastor Phil Coulson just to talk about life. He never told anybody, but he always saw Pastor Phil as the father he never had. He thought of him sometimes, too, especially when things got difficult to handle. He thought of what Pastor Phil might say to him. At the back of his mind, he knew that Pastor Phil would tell him to talk to his wife about everything. But he wasn’t ready. So, having Natasha listen to him felt refreshing to him. He needed ears that were not part of the whole family drama.
“I knew you were in some kind of bind, but I didn’t know it was this messed up,” Natasha remarked. “Had a feeling that your problems were beyond your years, though. A 17-year-old like you shouldn’t be thinking ‘bout this stuff.” They stopped walking to sit on a bench. James couldn’t help but think about his brother - the 18-year-old who should be dealing with this stuff instead of him. Instead, he’s in Oxford thinking about school or dealing with term papers or difficult professors or how to stay awake at night when there’s plenty to study.

“Hell of a brother you have.”
“He didn’t volunteer me. My Pop did.”
“Did you really just defend your coward of a brother?” she sneered. James glanced at her blankly. Natasha shook her head and sighed as she looked away for a second. “Look, I don’t know what you and your brother’s dynamics are, but you gotta step up, Barnes. Besides...what’s this cool-looking-toothpick-chewing look you’re going for here when you just let your family walk all over you?”
They both snorted at that.
“Dammit, Romanov,” he said and they both burst out into laughter. The laughing faded and she made her tone a bit more serious.
“I still can’t believe you did this. I’d do anything for my sister if I had one, but not clean up a mess like this.” James nodded softly as he looked down on the ground, nervously swinging his knees together.
“I don’t mind cleaning up Steve’s mess,” he said, eyes locked on the cemented ground. “But I can’t have her living in this mess by herself.” He said sternly as he turned to Natasha with the surest of eyes.

***

By 11, James drove back around the block of your office and parked near a payphone. He got out of the car and crossed the street. He kept a lollipop in his mouth this time as he decided he should walk around to keep pace with his racing thoughts. There was plenty of it. He ran past conversations he’d had with people who mattered to him. It was a good exercise in the legs and mind, but then it was already 11:15, and he decided to call ahead in case you had to stay at work until the afternoon then he could buy you lunch instead.
When he called, an older, warm voice of a woman answered the voice. “Brock Rumlow’s office, this is Betty, how can I help you?”
“Hello, ma’am,” he greeted nervously. “I’m calling for a [Your Name] Barnes. May I speak with her?”
“Why, yes,” Betty said on the line, her smile could be heard in her voice. “In fact, she’s just coming back from the powder room. May I ask who is calling?”
“Oh, it’s..James. Barnes. Her uh, her husband.” Betty no longer responded and a soft rattle could be heard on the phone as she passed the receiver to you. James then heard Betty saying to you, “It’s your husband, darling.” Then she whispered, “He’s got a lovely voice.” That made him smile to himself. You finally took the receiver from Betty and gave her a shy, awkward smile after receiving that remark.
“James?”
“Hey, doll. You comn’ home for lunch? I’m ready t’pick you up anytime.”
“I - I haven’t asked yet. The bosses have been all busy with meetings all morning.”
“Oh...you busy too?”
“A little. I’ve been retyping reports. I’m starving,” you mutter. “But lunch should be at noon.”
“Why, yes, Ms. Barnes,” Brock Rumlow’s voice emerged in the background of your end of the phone. “I was just about to ask you to have lunch with me. I have an extra plate of Steak Frite I’m sure you’d love.”
The sudden intrusion in the phone conversation surprised you and left both you and James shocked in silence.
“What?” James asked, his tone a little bit irritated.
“Nothing,” you whispered. “It’s my boss.”
“That’s your boss, all right,” James replied with a bit of a sarcastic tone. You panicked, as you haven’t answered Mr. Rumlow yet since you’re standing frozen in front of Betty’s desk, the phone receiver is still glued to your ear.
“M-Mr. Rumlow. I’m sorry, I...I’ve made plans with my husband,” you stammered as you made up a white lie on the spot. On the other side of the line, James blushed, his eyes darting everywhere as he thought of things to say to or do your boss would insist on taking you to lunch. Brock Rumlow tilted his head and smirked at you.
“You’re lying,” He smiled at you as he stepped closer. “Come, let’s have lunch. I insist.”
“That’s it - I’m coming to get you,” James said firmly.
“N-no James, w-” he hung up the phone before you could tell him to wait. Meanwhile, James storms into the building, rushing towards the floor you’re in and finds you just outside Rumlow’s office, you and your boss standing by Betty’s desk. You just put the receiver back down and seeing James walking towards you in a rush still surprised you even though you knew he was coming. You called out his name with a bit of a surprised tone as you turned to walk towards him in an attempt to stop him from whatever he might do.
James glared at the sight of your sharply-dressed boss who was looking and smirking at the trouble he sparked in the both of you. “Is that him? Your boss?” He stopped in his steps as you gently held his arms to stop him from getting closer to Rumlow. You nodded but whispered and begged him to not cause any trouble. Everyone else on the floor started noticing the ruckus he’s causing. “James, please…you don’t have to do this.”

“Come on, doll. He’s straight up asking you out and you’re just letting him?”
“I’m not…I told him we had plans. Now come on…calm down…” You spoke calmly, but worry was already coming out of your voice. James couldn’t even look at you as his fierce gaze on Rumlow already looked like he was beating him up in his mind.
“Ah, you must be the lucky husband - Mr. Barnes,” Rumlow taunted him, smirking confidently at him. James hated his guts and hated his remark on him being the “lucky husband” as he clearly meant it dirtily, making him pull away from you and rush towards your boss and shoved him.
“What the fuck’s the matter with you, huh? Askin’ out my wife to lunch like that?” He shoves him again, Rumlow not at all fazed by the display of aggression.
“James! Stop it already!” You finally yelled, catching your breath as the whole situation was aggravating. James realized his fury and took a step back, his jaw still clenching. Mr. Fury comes in from the hallway, getting all the attention this time.
“Now, now, what the hell is goin’ on in here? And who is this angry young man who’s just about to beat the shit out of you, Brock?” Nick Fury asked everyone in the room with a loud voice, standing tall as he commanded silence in the whole floor. Everybody looked at him in surprise and a bit of fear for being caught being in the middle of this drama. “Well?”
“M-Mr. Fury - I-I’m sorry…this is all my fault…” You began.
“The hell it was! It was this guy,” he gave Rumlow another shove with one hand. “-inviting my wife to lunch and sendin’ her flowers at home like she weren’t married already!”
“James! That’s enough!” You hissed at him, making James even more upset. You turned to Mr. Fury. “Sir, what my husband is true, and I apologize for his demeanor just now.” You looked down a little. “It won’t happen again.”

“Hmm. Thank you for showing up this morning, Ms. Barnes. You been a great aid today.” He turned to Rumlow. “You better explain yourself in my office.” Then he turned to James. “I’d watch my temper if I were you, son,” then gives you a small glance as if to tell James that women don’t like it when their gentlemen get violent. James looks at him, anger still written all over his face. “Now go have lunch with your wife and take her home. You two have a lot to talk about.” James didn’t say anything and just nodded once and walked towards you.
“Get your purse. We’re goin’ home.” Still upset, you pouted as you rushed to your desk to get your purse, desperately wanting to avoid the look everyone is giving you. As soon as you got your purse and walked towards him, James took your hand and you walked into the elevator together. As the elevator door closed, you angrily pulled your hand away from his.

“Look, doll, I’m sorry…”
“Oh, so now you’re sorry? That wasn’t your place, Barnes!”
“Yeah? Whose place was it to tell him off then, huh?! And don’t you dare say Steve ‘cause-”
“It was my place, James! Mine! I should get to tell him off, not you!” Your nose flared as you gripped the leather string of your purse on the top of your chest.
“Fine. But it’s not like you were ready to stand your ground when we were on the phone.” You looked down as you realized he had a point. You weren’t as quick to stand up to yourself as you would’ve wanted.
“But you had no business rushing to my workplace and making a scene in front of everyone like that. And shoving my boss! You embarrassed me.” The elevator door opened before James could respond. You walked out of the elevator and passed through the lobby, the both of you walking in a bit of a hurry out of the building. He pointed to where the car was parked and he rushed over to the car to open the door for you. You got inside the car, still showing him that you’re upset. He got in the driver’s seat, held the wheel and sighed and then turned to you.
“Look…I’m sorry I embarrassed you..ok?” You avoided his gaze and said nothing.
“But it wasn’t just that, James!” You were suddenly about to cry as your hormones decided to act up. “You know how hard it was for us to find jobs…” James looked down as he gripped the wheel tighter, realizing his mistake.
“I’m sorry..I wasn’t thinkin’.”
“No, you weren’t,” you shook your head and sighed sharply, tears nearly welling up in your eyes. James was about to add something but you interrupted with a resigned tone as you looked away. “Just drive…”

Chapter Text

A week later, everything went as usual at the office, except that James came home earlier than usual one Friday afternoon. He came to the kitchen to greet you then went upstairs to take a shower before dinner. You learned how to make meatloaf and some mashed potatoes and got better at cooking somehow, even as easily as boiling vegetables became natural to you. Then, you noticed that James didn’t come down for dinner at 6:30, so you went upstairs to the bedroom to check on him. As you quietly peeked into the bedroom, you found him sitting on his side of the bed, just staring out into the window, his forearms resting on his legs with his back bent over.

“Barnes?” You knocked on the door quietly. You pushed the door gently, making it squeak a little as you took slow steps inside the bedroom. “You okay?” It took a second before he answered.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” He straightened up and turned his head around to face you, smiling at you, the same smile dropping at a sudden unspoken realization. "Actually, no. I'm not. I haven't been honest, doll." The sudden serious tone in his voice made you move closer, just an inch beside him on the side of the bed. He gently took your hand and nudged you to sit down with him.

"What's going on?"

"This past week...I haven't been going to the construction site. I got fired." He paused to let that sink in. "I've been going around the city every day to look and eventually tell you when I got one...but I haven't had much luck."

"Oh...But what happened? Why were you fired?" You squeezed his hand gently when you realized he was still holding yours.

"Apparently, my boss's boss is your boss's good friend. Guess he found out where I was working and called in a favor. Couldn't even give me two weeks to look for a job. Had to spend the rest of Monday looking for other places. My boss didn't want to fire me, but he was going to get fired too if he didn't. Better me than him, right?"

"I'm sorry, Barnes...this is all my fault."

"No," he said before you could continue. "This was my fault. I shouldn't have barged into your office and made a scene." He took a sharp breath and there was a moment of silence as you waited for him to continue. "I just couldn't take that guy coming on to you like that. Askin' you out like you weren't married already," he groaned. You exhaled sharply and looked at him, your eyes telling him to stop thinking about what happened that day.

"Oh come on, doll. Don't tell me you didn't see it. And that wasn't all! He sent you flowers. Flowers, doll face. Who the fuck sends flowers to their married secretary?! Or to their employee, god!" He shook his head and ran his fingers through his dirty blond hair as he took a deep breath, then gently raised your hand and kissed the back of your palm as he looked at you. "You saw it too, didn't you?" He looked at you with searching eyes, as if he wasn't taking no or "I don't know" for an answer. You nodded softly and sighed before speaking.

"Yeah. It was creepy. It was hard to keep my boundaries, James. He wasn't asking me out on a romantic lunch, but I could hear it in his tone. I didn't feel safe around him. Receiving those flowers...no matter how uncomfortable I felt, I was better at shoving that aside. I have bigger problems." That made him chuckle.

"We definitely have bigger problems," he corrected, triggering a memory from your wedding, the moment you shared in the bridal care before the ceremony. You held your gaze on each other. A very small, melancholic smile drawn behind your gaze, both of you resigned at the fact that the world is bigger than both of you.

“Right. Dinner,” he suddenly stood up, wiping his face in one downward motion before smiling at you again as pulled you up from your seat. “You really got the hang of cooking, yeah? Doesn't smell like something's burning anymore.” He said as he chuckled a little. You chuckled softly with him, swatting him on the shoulder. "Ow!" He feinted his pain.

“You know you still cook better than me,” you remarked as you both went down the stairs.

“Only because I liked cooking with my Gramma.”

The both of you had a fairly pleasant dinner as you talked about some high school memories and common friends, and girls that James dated. As he noticed you were finished with your dinner, he looked at you as if he just had an idea.

“Do you wanna go out tonight?” He asked, looking down on his plate as if he suddenly regretted asking you the moment he did. You looked at him as you thought where could the both of you possibly go on a Friday night. “Well, there’s a speakeasy that Nat told me about the other day.” Surprise and delight showed in your face at the thought, but a sudden realization brought out a chuckle from you.

“You know I couldn’t drink, right?”

“So what? You don’t have to, doll face. Let’s just…” he shrugged. “...get out. Let loose. Dance.” His brows raised with delight, his blue marble eyes twinkling as he looked at you with the last word lingering in his mind. You looked at him in the eyes and smiled back, pressing your lips together at the thought of being out again and having fun. You nodded excitedly.

“I’d love to go dancing. Been a while.” After that, he helped you wash the dishes and then you both got ready for the night out. He promised he would have you home by midnight or before that as you’re supposed to be resting when you could.

James wore a 3-piece suit you had probably seen Steve wear before. You’ve never seen James look so sharp in a suit, his hair slicked back since your wedding day. He waited for you downstairs as you finished getting dolled up. It has been some time since you went out. You had trouble choosing a nice dress that was club and married-woman-appropriate. Your hair was already fixed from this morning, but you decided to fix it up a bit differently, with loose-end curls and locks, which represented you were letting loose a little tonight. And to top that off, you wore the red lipstick you had bought impulsively before you knew you were pregnant and never got to wear yet. You always opted for pink lipsticks as the red ones were a bit too bold for your liking. You looked at yourself in the mirror of your vanity. You thought to yourself: things, no, your life changed when you got pregnant. You rubbed your belly at the thought. Considering where you were headed tonight, and after everything that’s happened so far, there was nobody else you wanted to go out with after all.

But something else has been going on deep inside you. An intense emotion was emerging from deep inside as Steve crossed your mind. A shift. An impulse. Something. Your gaze at the mirror changed as you took a deep breath and applied the red lipstick in one smooth glide into your lips. You studied your appearance in the mirror and sighed again. You looked different in the red lipstick. Pretty. It was different than the one you wore at your wedding. This one had a "pop" effect against your skin tone. You smiled at yourself in the mirror as you discovered a new you. You've always been beautiful, but now you were also bold and brazen.

It didn’t take long for James to wait for you. As he heard you coming down the stairs, he went for the door and wore his fedora hat, then watched you come down, but took it off again and put it over his chest as he gazed at you from head to toe. Before he realized it, he held his breath as his jaw dropped and he closed his mouth and cleared his throat as he tried his best to keep his thoughts to himself.

“Wow,” He took a breath and approached you, taking your hand as you took the last few steps down. “Damn." He chuckled. "I thought an angel came to take me away,” His words made you chuckle, but also sent light tingles down your back, for some reason. An unfamiliar feeling. He gazed at your lips and then back to your eyes again. You know he's never held you in his eyes this way before, but you didn't let that get to your head too much.

“Well, aren't you a charmer?" You laughed softly and continued, "I don't remember you looking this handsome in our wedding,” you expressed and gave him a warm smile. He fixed his tie in a one-hand motion quite proudly, but gave you a questioning smirk.

“Eh, that wasn't really my style. Didn't have this hat then,” He tipped his hat properly to hide the blush on his face. “Helps me look more like…a young man,” He chuckled as he put on his hat and then took your light coat hanging on the rack to help you wear it.

“Kinda like my lipstick, I guess.” You chuckled as you turned around to wear your coat.

“You look prettier…with that on,” he spoke softly behind you as he fixed your coat collar. "The prettiest even without any makeup on," he added, then cleared his throat again and opened the door for you. You didn’t know what to say and just gave him a soft smile. You reached for your back to rub yourself below your neck as if to let the tingles go away as you walked out of the apartment with him.

The both of you walked down the street and onto the nearest train station to take a train to Harlem, where the speakeasy was located. As you got to the location, he took you to a set of cement stairs leading to a basement, holding your hand as you took the steps. You held his hand as you didn’t want to hold on to the iron railings when you weren’t wearing gloves. You could faintly hear the muffled noise a typical club would have. Bass, drums, piano, and trumpets playing, a crowd laughing and having indistinct conversations.

He knocked a specific rhythm on the large wooden door, knock, knock-knock, knock . A small window opened, revealing only the eyes of the person guarding the door. He looked at you and James. You tilted your head down but glanced at him again.

“What brings you young fellas ‘ere?”

“The Black Widow invited us here,” James answered, almost sounding like he'd been here before. You whispered to him, “The Black Widow?” He simply nodded to you, assuring you that he knew what he said and that it was going to be fine. The big door unlocked and opened, the sound of the music becoming a bit louder as you stepped into the venue. James offered his arm for you to take, tucked your wrist between his forearm and upper arm, and held the back of your hand as he guided you both through the door.

The man behind the door emerged and glued his eyes on both of you, watching you both from head to toe as you walked into the hallway, but stayed on the spot he was standing on. The hallway was dimly lit with hanging light bulbs but it wasn’t so hard to find your steps on the stone floor. In 10 feet, you could see a dark curtain made of thick, heavy, velvet cloth concealing the party happening inside. A woman’s voice on a microphone started to fill your ears as she started vocalizing in song. James turned his head to face you and stopped a little. “You hear that?” He asked with a huge smile, excitement written all over his face. You smiled back and hummed excitedly. “Mhmm,” was all you could say, as you tried to slowly take in the scene. It almost felt like it was a sin just showing up to this place.

Finally, he slid open the dark curtain and held it to let you pass before him. The lively, jazz-filled party emerged before your eyes. It may only be a party in a speakeasy, but to you, it felt like stepping into another world, away from the reality you had to face each day. The dance floor was in the center of the room. You blushed as you watched the couples dancing on the floor. The live band played lively and gleefully. You were captivated by the loud sound of the live band as you realized you hadn’t gone to a club since the last time you went with Steve. Before your thoughts could lead you astray, a hostess greeted you and led you to your table. James pulled the chair for you and let you sit down then he sat on his.

A waiter approached your table and asked for your orders. “Yeah, could we have a bowl o’nuts? Tom Collins for me, neat.” James ordered.

“And for the dame?” The waiter glanced at you. James waited for a second for you to answer and you gave him a confused look, reminding him that you’re not supposed to drink.

“Uh, a Shirley Temple for the lady.” He glanced at you to check if you were ok with it, and you nodded to him and the waiter and smiled politely. You've never had a Shirley Temple before, but you trusted James that he knew what he was ordering.

“A’right. Can I get you anything else?”

“Yeah, something she could munch on that ain’t nuts. You got chicken fingers 'ere?”
"Yes, sir."
"Great, we'll have that."
As the waiter left, you kept looking around while dancing your shoulders to the jazz music, smiling to yourself as you took in the dancing scene.

James observed the place too, but not before he saw how much you were enjoying yourself already, your face showing "I can't believe we're here right now!" as you looked everywhere.

"We should dance," He spoke loudly as it was hard to be heard over the live band. You gave him a shy look but were grinning from ear to ear. You responded in the same volume as him, "Maybe later. I wanna feel this place out first."

"Good call," He said and smiled, then watched the other clubgoers dancing on the dance floor. Your drinks were served. "I promise I'll have only one," He said, referring to his glass of Tom Collins. You shook your head and encouraged him to drink as much as he wanted. "Are you kiddin' me? No." He put his hand over yours that was holding your glass of Shirley Temple. "I need the release but I can't drink more with you present, ok? Need to look out for you, darlin'." You gave him a worried look. "It's ok. We came here to go dancing, not get shit-faced. Don't worry." He gave you a reassuring nod, squeezed your hand, and smiled at you again. "Come on, let's take a sip and hit the floor, yeah? We ought to do what we came for, doll!"

You took a few sips of your drink and giggled excitedly as he offered his hand. You felt every burden get washed away the moment you stood up taking his hand. You danced the lively jazz songs in a series until you broke a sweat, then finally sat at your table again. James called a waiter.

"Hey, man, can you get us some water?" James asked the waiter over the loud music, and then asked him to come closer to whisper, "Oh, and could please hurry? My lady's parched from all the dancin'. Thanks." He grinned as he watched you drink your glass thirstily. "What'd I tell ya, doll, huh? It's fun, ain't it?" You let out a hearty laugh as you nodded to his statement.

"Uh-huh." You looked around while fanning your face with your hand. "Thanks for bringing me here tonight, Barnes. I didn't know you were so fun to go clubbing with!"

He gave you a longing gaze with a little smile. "You never asked. Besides, I didn't go where you probably did." You shot him a look as you noticed him not mentioning Steve, even though he probably knew you were with Steve all those times. "I always went to places like this."

"What do you mean? Steve and I always went to speakeasies."

"Yeah, but the places you went to were probably lame." He said, chuckling. "Steve knew the popular places, doesn't mean they were the best though."

"Alright, alright. I see what you mean. This place feels more...prohibited." You giggled together, referring to the prohibition era. The food arrived as the the live band took a break and an instrumental quartet took their place. You continued talking, eating, and drinking and also observing the clubgoers. You haven't had a cocktail, even a non-alcoholic one since you got pregnant, or done anything remotely fun, so you immersed yourself in the experience. Nothing else mattered except that you were in the club with James. You were safe. Nobody around judged you or told you what to do.

When the band came back on stage, they were tuning their instruments as a host took the microphone and greeted the whole place.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have been graced tonight by one of the best voices of jazz -please welcome! Miss Ella Fitzgerald!"

"Oh my god!" You and James said in unison, your jaw dropping in surprise as you looked back and forth to the stage and James, both of you clapping excitedly. The crowd cheered and clapped at the announcement. "I can't believe she's here!!! Did you know???" You asked him excitedly, his head shaking as he chuckled.

"No! I'm just as surprised as you are! Aren't we lucky?" You nodded at him as you gave him an incredulous expression. The trumpets and horns started playing a playful melody while Ella Fitzgerald danced onstage before the microphone. As percussions picked up, people started getting on the dance floor again.

"You can say that again! Oh my god, I think I'm gonna cry, Bucky!" You grabbed his hand and squeezed it with excitement. He caught his breath and sighed as he smiled at you but you were too excited to notice his gaze. He squeezed your hand back and pulled it a little across the table to catch your attention.

"Can I have this dance, wife?" You blushed at hearing him call you that. You went back to the dance floor and started dancing to the lively song. A couple of songs after, the band started playing "Do I Love You?" and everyone on the dance floor settled into slow dancing. James put one hand on your hip, pulling you gently against him now as you put your arm over his shoulders. "I can't believe we're slow-dancing...to Ella Fitzgerald...in a club." He let out a hum of approval as he smiled. "Thanks for bringing me here, Barnes." You gave him a genuine, appreciative smile and then rested the side of your face against his.
"Thanks for comin' with me, darlin'. Wouldn't have been twice as fun without you." You hummed in agreement.

James suddenly chuckled to himself, which made you pull back to face him.

"What's so funny?"

"You didn't even notice it."
"What? Something on my face?" You panicked a little, lifting your hands to check on your face, your hair, and your dress. James gently chuckled then softly took your hands and put your arm back where they were, the gentle action making you calm down.

"Relax, darlin'. You look perfect." He motioned for your waist to sway with him again. These silent and gentle commands had you blushing unknowingly. You started swaying with him again, but your unanswered question was still written on your face.

"You finally called me 'Bucky'." He let that hang in the air his eyes glued on yours. It was hard to tell if he was blushing because of the alcohol, or the dancing, or because of what he just told you, but he looked different this time. Not the same way when you danced at your wedding, or when you danced in his kitchen.
"Want me to stop?" You asked softly. He chuckled as he shook his head and gently kissed your knuckles.
"No...I want to hear it again. Let me hear you call me that again, sweetness." He kissed the back of your fingers this time and then gently placed them back on his nape and let his hand rest on your back.
"Bucky," You said softly. He blushed as his lips curved upward.
"Darlin'," he whispered in response as you kept swaying with him to the song.
"You know you're so gentle and kind?" You said softly, just thinking about all the things he's been and all the things he's done to you and for you. He pulled you in just a little bit closer against him, his gaze on you longing and warm, as if there was something he's always wanted to say to you.

"You know you're so beautiful?" Silence hung in the air again, but it didn't feel awkward. The silence with him never felt awkward or tense, you realized. Something felt different this time. You kept his gaze and let the music in the background cover you in the moment and space that seemed to exist only between you and James.

"What are you thinking, Bucky?"
"Do you want an honest answer?" You nodded. "Promise you won't get weird?"
"As long as it isn't weird...I promise." You vowed, smiling as you expected a ridiculous answer that might make you laugh.
"I'm thinking...how much I wish my eyes could look at your face and focus on every part of it all at once."
"What?" You chuckled as you asked, and then realized he was serious as he simply smiled on one corner of his lips, his gaze still fixed on you. He whispered your name as he pulled you in closer, your forehead almost touching with his.

"Can I kiss you?" You drew your breath in and felt a wave of heat rushing into your cheek. You didn't want to say no, but you didn't know how to say yes. The next thing you knew, you felt his soft lips on yours. The kisses were as slow as your dancing, as tender as the way he held you, and as warm as the smile he always showed you. It felt as if...everything suddenly made sense.

As you paused to take a breath, you smiled at each other, then you laughed softly as you noticed his usually pink lips were now plum-colored. "You have my lipstick on your lips."
"Want me to put it back on yours?" You laughed again and kissed some more. When the kiss was finally over, you rested your cheek against his, your thoughts slowly pulling your gaze away from what you were looking at.

"Bucky?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you regret anything?" He didn't answer right away but pulled his head back to face you and looked at you intently, now cupping the side of your neck.
"No. Do you?" It took you a while to ponder the answer to your question.
"Yes..."
"What is it?" He asked as his hand cupped your cheek now. You thought of it lots of times. It's not the baby's fault that you got pregnant. But apart from the heartache and betrayal that Steve left you with, he also left you something heavier.

"I regret ever having sex with Steve."
"Hey...doll. Look...I get it. He's bad in bed," he joked, then gazed at you with concern. "Look...He's a douche for not wearing a rubber. For not thinking of you first." He sighed and shook his head. "I may have a regret of my own."
"What?"
"Not asking you out before he did," He confessed. You snorted in disbelief.
"Shut up...you're not saying..."
"You know what I'm saying, dollface." He paused. "Now, before your mind wanders to a million things, can we go back to dancing, please? Ella Fitzgerald ain't singin' here to have you talk about regrets or bad sex." You chuckled together and slowly danced again. More people filled the bar as midnight drew near.

You danced your hearts out until you felt thirsty, and only took short water breaks and quick bites, before going back to the dance floor to make the most out of it. You were tired, but you didn't want the night to end until it had to. The live band once again played a slow song with Ella Fitzgerald on the microphone. James took the chance to slow dance with you again. As he noticed that some clubgoers started leaving, he knew it was getting late and the bar was probably already closing soon. Slow dancing with him felt like something you're already used to at this point and you no longer felt awkward having him this close to you. Pulling you away from your thoughts, he called your name.

"Hmm?"

"Can I hold you like this a little bit longer?" His voice was soft and a little bit cautious, but you felt the warmth coming from his touch. You nodded softly and then closed your eyes and rested your head on his shoulder, savoring the moment as the evening melted away like a distant dream.

***

Another week later, James was still in no luck at finding a new job anywhere. Meanwhile, the atmosphere at the telephone company also changed for you. Brock Rumlow hadn't changed his behavior towards you, although he stopped insisting on inviting you to lunch. But you could always feel the way he stole glances from you or when he passed by your desk. You knew he wasn't hiding that he coveted you despite being a young, married woman. Not to mention a pregnant one at that. To make matters worse, he called you to his office one day and had one of the worst conversations you've ever had to be in.

"I know that you don't love your husband, Mrs. Barnes. I know about the whole setup between your families. Whose father that baby you're carrying is and why he is not your Mr. Barnes," He stated, not minding any professional boundary or even an ounce of respect for your personal life. You pulled your chin up to remain steadfast despite any violent urge surging in your hands.

"I can take care of you, sweetheart. I know your financial situation. Your husband isn't going to make it in this city. And you shouldn't have to work. But I can make it all go away. All those problems...the uncertainty of the future..." he makes a gesture of his fingers pressed together and spreading outward, mimicking an object disappear. "....go away. All you have to do, of course, is divorce your husband." You raised an eyebrow at his appalling, indecent proposal.

"Of course, he will be taken care of. His family too. And he will be sent back to school, where he belongs. I'm sure your parents won't have a problem with who your groom is as long as he can provide for you."

"Wow," you scoffed. "I've had it with your advances, Mr. Rumlow. Urging me to divorce my husband so you could step into my life is where I draw the line. My husband was right about you. You men with power. You think you hold the world in your hand and you can buy off anyone with your money."

"What I'm offering you is help, Mrs. Barnes. This is your only way out." He stood up and walked around his desk toward you until he's standing behind your seat, closing the space between you two, making your heart beat loudly against your chest. You were frozen down to your toes as your breath picked up. The hair on your back standing as you felt his hands on your shoulders. "Look, I am a problem-solver. I see a problem, and I immediately think of a solution," he stated nonchalantly as he massaged your shoulders. You couldn't take his hands on you anymore so you stood up all of a sudden and faced him, red painted all over your face, your nostrils fuming with anger and humiliation combined.

"Call it what you want, asshole. I'm not divorcing my husband." You took a step to leave, but he blocked your way and in a quick motion, pushed you back against his desk, trapping you between his hands as he keeps his face close to yours, you could smell his scent - cigarette, and a smell of alcohol you couldn't point out, both bringing up bile from your stomach, but you tried to ignore that and focused on the danger you felt was closing in. You spotted a letter opener from the edge of the desk earlier and managed to grab it the moment he pinned you to the desk.

"I always get what I want, Ms. Barnes. And you are just making it difficult for you and your husband by resisting me like this." You felt every ounce of disgust and discomfort, but more than that, you feared he was pushing against your boundaries further and taking what isn't his. You've had enough abuse, disrespect, and mistreatment from the men in your life. First your father, then Steve. Then now, your boss. You've stayed silent long enough. You've obeyed others long enough. And this man wasn't to be obeyed, believed, or followed. You clenched on that letter opener and pointed it on the side of his stomach just below his rib.

"I don't care what you know about me and my family or my marriage with James, but if you don't let me go right now, I will stab you with this dagger. My knee is just below your balls and I won't hesitate to kick you where it truly hurts, Mr. Rumlow ." You emphasized his name to give him the last amount of respect you were going to show him. He huffed in surprise and pulls away, rubbing his bearded chin as he walked back around his desk, still standing behind it.

"I'll give my notice to Mr. Fury." You dropped the letter opener back to his desk and mustered all your strength to walk out of his office as quickly as you could, fearing he would suddenly grab you or lock the door. But he didn't, and you got out safely and headed to the nearest bathroom to breathe and cry and get yourself together. As soon as you calmed down, you washed your face and went back to your desk to compose your final notice on the typewriter. Before the day ended, you handed your notice to Mr. Fury and told him of the incident in Mr. Rumlow's office, making it reasonable for you to quit effective immediately.

When you got home, you showered to wash off the intense interaction between you and Rumlow. Losing the job wasn't even the worst part of it. It was becoming harder to live and become part of the world you were in. You rubbed your stomach as you let the water rinse your head and hopefully your thoughts. It was right that you quit. You couldn't be in any more stressful, or worse, frightening situations. It wasn't good for the baby, you thought. When you finished showering, you curled up in bed in your robe and didn't even bother drying your hair anymore. The traumatizing day made you feel more tired than you already were, and you fell asleep. James came home and found you sleeping on his side of the bed. He didn't bother turning the lights on, allowing the city lights to illuminate the room through the window. He wondered if you've eaten since you got home as he noticed you didn't follow your usual routine. He stepped into the room and knelt beside the bed. He whispered to wake you up, gently brushing your hair away from your face. As you opened your eyes and saw him, you furrowed your eyebrows, confused and disoriented from your slumber.

"Hey, sleepyhead...Slept well?" He asked softly, his blue eyes fixed on you. You pulled yourself up and sat on the bed, then pulled him in for a hug as tears suddenly streamed down your eyes. "Hey...what's wrong, babydoll?" The nickname made your heart stop for a little bit, but all the crying in the office bathroom wasn't enough and you couldn't contain every emotion in your heart any longer. "I've never seen you cry like this before." His voice remained soft as he rubbed over your back in the hug. "Come here."

You hummed in question and before you knew it, he has his hands under your knees and one arm on your back, carrying you bridal style for a moment so he could sit on the corner of the bed and sat you on his lap, carefully pulling down the hem of your robe to cover your legs and thighs, as if to protect you from being exposed. Then he looked at you with concern, his eyes studying every small detail of your damp face as he gently wiped your tears as they come. "What happened, babydoll? Talk to me." He insisted, but his tone was gentle. With a little bit of hesitation, you told him everything that transpired that day, certain details in your story making him clench his jaw and hold you tighter in his lap.

For some reason, it felt safer and easier to tell him everything in the dark. Despite the noise of the city outside, being in his arms that moment felt like nothing else existed. He rubbed over your back as he listened to you, his gaze fixed on the floor as he was probably imagining what happened as you told him the story. When you ended the story with you quitting your job, he finally looked at you again, his deep, blue eyes containing so much thought, you wished you could hear the words.

"I hate that you had to endure all o'that. Wish I'd been there to protect you, babydoll," His words filled with simmering anger in his tone, only softened by the call of his new nickname for you. "But I'm proud of you. Standing up for yourself like that. And threatening a perverted old man with a fucking dagger?" You laughed together as you sniffled, wiping your tears and snot with the hem of your robe's sleeve. James continued keeping hair away from your face very gently as he gazed at you warmly and appreciatively.

"My brave fucking wife."
"I told you I could handle myself."
"I never doubted you could, darlin'." He smiled and fixed your robe, closing its cleavage as it began to open a little bit, and that's when you noticed his bruised hands.
"Did you get into a fight?" You quickly grabbed his hand and observed his wounded knuckles, then cupped his jaw to look at his face in the light. You noticed he has been hiding it all this time.

"Bucky. What happened?"
He hesitated, but put his hand over yours, still cupping his jaw. "I was ambushed just a couple blocks from 'ere. Rumlow's doing too." Worry drew across your face as you looked for more bruises in his body, or worse, a knife wound or anything like that.

"We should call the police. They can't do this to you."
"But they already did. They warned me that they have the NYPD controlled. Like a fuckin' mafia, if you ask me." He shook his head. "No point in that, doll." Silence hung in the air as your mind raced, thinking about possible solutions or what your next step might be. But nothing came to mind.

"Looks like New York ain't safe for us anymore, Bucky." A sharp exhale escaping your breath at the realization. "I'm sorry. I feel like this is my fault. It's my fault we don't have jobs anymore. It's my fault we're here. That you're here, instead of living your life as you should be. Fuck, it's my fault you got beat up." You stated in a breaking voice as you cupped his jaw and noticed his face was nearly broken, but mostly bruised. He was probably holding in the pain as he didn't once let a grunt escape his lips. He held your wrist gently as he shook his head.

"Doll face," He said, calling your attention. "It wasn't your fault, ok? I let them beat me up. Figured they'd leave us alone if I let them think they beat me. Doesn't mean I let them go unscathed though." He pulled a satisfied smirk as his tongue drew a figure on the inside of his cheek. "Fucking bastards." Then he turned his attention to you.

"But hey...don't talk like that anymore, ok? None of this is your fault, babydoll. It's time you stopped blaming yourself for everything that's happened. I hate it when you do that." He held you closer on instinct as he wiped away the remnants of your tears across your cheeks. He gazed at you with warmth. Suddenly, you've become too aware that this is the first time you've sat on his lap. And the first time he's held you this close, too. Ever since the speakeasy, you noticed you've grown closer in more ways than one. At this realization, you suddenly noticed that the way he held you in his gaze right now was the same as when you were dancing that Friday night. It burned from his eyes, flowed from his gentle touches, and enveloped you whenever he held you close like this. His musky scent now more raw than all the times he took you dancing was pulling you in. You noticed that things have changed. At this moment, his presence alone fanned the embers inside you, waking an ache you once thought has numbed.

Before you knew it, you felt his warm, soft lips kissing yours, his light stubble brushing against your chin. You arms wrapped around his shoulder, pulling him in a little bit closer. Desire started pooling between your thighs as you shifted on his lap. It wasn't hard to notice the shift in his pants too, which made you pull away from the kiss for a moment. The both of you panting as you rested your forehead against his, his eyes gazing between your eyes and your lips.

"You ok, babydoll? I-I didn't mean to take adv-" You put a finger over his lips before he could finish his sentence.
"You weren't." But you couldn't tell him that despite how well your relationship is with him, a certain thought was beginning to haunt you these past few days. The lines have started to blur. Until now, you were certain that your heart belonged to Steve. Somehow, you thought this was going to be a temporary setting. You had no idea where that came from. James wasn't a temporary replacement for Steve. Were you secretly hoping for Steve to come back and take you with him?

"I'm not expecting anything," he reassured you, as if he read on your face that you were worried he was expecting you to have sex with him, but god, did he hope you would let him kiss you again.

"Want me to stop?" You gently shook your head, earning a smile from his bruised, yet still handsome face. "Tell me what you want, babydoll. I need to hear it from you. I'm not about to do anything we didn't talk about first." You've never heard anyone say anything like that to you. It wasn't entirely romantic, but it took your breath away.

"Kiss me again, Bucky." He smiled again at your calling his name, and you wondered if he felt any pain on his face at all.

"I'll be gentle. I'll go only where you let me." He kissed you again, this time more softly and loving, his hand gently grabbing the roots of your hair above your nape, earning him a very soft moan from you. His lips kissed through your cheek, then your jaw, and then finally, your pulse point in your neck, making you hold him closer and pant even more. His hold felt different. His touch has always felt different. But you couldn't quite place what it was. A moan escaped your lips as he licked and suckled on your neck.

"Mm, knew you'd like that," he whispered teasingly as his hands caressed your body. "You have no idea how tempting you are to me right now, babydoll." He pulled away a little bit to look at you again, keeping his lips so close to yours.

"Promise, I'm not trying to tempt you." You chuckled together and exchanged more kisses for a while. He held you so close and when you let him kiss your neck, you felt like he was going to undress your robe with the way he was kissing and licking.

"Fuck, you don't even have to try, babydoll." His tongued-kisses felt sinful, and you could feel how much he's holding himself back. If you knew men, you knew they would take what they wanted when you let them. At least that's how Steve was. He never held back from his desires. But James, on the other hand, you could feel his desire from the way he touched you and kissed you that he was holding back. Instead of undressing you, he squeezed the robe on your back with one hand, and the spot on your thigh dangerously close to your butt with the other.

To assert his restraint, he gently redone the tie on your robe for you and gave you one long, final kiss on your lips before he pulling away, making the kissing finally end. For now.

It was his turn to take a shower and you took that time to heat some leftovers you had from the previous night. James went to the dining table to join you for dinner. You talked about some memories from school, the both of you thankful that none of those had Steve. It was never discussed, but Steve's name became taboo between the two of you.

You shared a large slice of apple pie you bought from the bakery down the street the day before as you discussed what to do next. You barely had any money saved yet and the money you received from your parents for getting married could only get you by, not far.

"So what, are we going back to Red House?" He asked, watching you process everything as you kept your eyes fixed on the plate. Then you looked at him, worry etched on your face. "I don't wanna go back to my parents. Or yours." Your voice breaking at the thought. He moved his chair to get closer to you and took your hand gently.

"Doll face," he said softly. "I'm sorry we got us in this jam." He tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear. Then, as if he just had an idea, his eyes lit up. "I'll help you with the dishes, but first I gotta make a quick call." He rushed to the living room and grabbed the telephone receiver and then dialed a number.

"Who are you calling?" You said from the dining room. He was going to respond, but the other end of the line picked up. You wiped your hands on your apron and walked across the kitchen toward the hall and watched him make the phone call. Who could he have called at 8:30 PM that's so important?

"Ma?" He paused.
"I...I messed up Ma. Can we stay at Gramma's?"