Yesterday, Tomorrow, Today

Rose and Bucky ran hand in hand towards home, their feet splashing in the torrent of water streaming down from the fat gray rain clouds hanging over Washington DC.

"Come on, hurry!" Rose laughed, pulling Bucky along through the squeaky apartment gate and into the building.

The rainstorm had taken them by surprise. The day's forecast hadn't mentioned anything about rain, yet here they were, soaked to the bone trudging up the stairs.

"I'm starving," Rose groaned the second they walked through her front door.

She threw down her tote and made for the kitchen to look for a takeout menu. Despite the wet denim clinging to her skin, Rose was unreasonably happy. She'd always loved the rain.

"Aha!" Rose finally dug up the takeout menu from her favorite Chinese restaurant and cheered in triumph.

She perused it diligently, as if she wasn't going to order the same thing she always did. In the entryway Bucky meticulously unlaced his boots and set them on the shoe rack to dry. He placed Rosemary's hastily kicked-off sneakers next to his boots and hung her tote bag on the hooks by the door, the way she usually did.

"Come pick out something to eat," she called to him from the kitchen. 

Bucky made his way over. The puddles under his feet reminded him of that night leaving the Hydra bunker, the night he'd ended up in her studio. The memory itself was hazy but the emotions he'd felt were clearer than ever. 

Bucky shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts. Wet hair flopped into his eyes and stuck to his face. He paused just behind Rosemary and looked over her shoulder at the menu she held up.

Rose felt more than heard Bucky enter the kitchen. For a big guy he was shockingly light on his feet. But Bucky had a certain air to him that made the atmosphere shift when he was near. In their first few days together Rose had felt stifled by it, but now it was more akin to having a thick blanket laid over you on a cold evening. In was comforting.

Rose didn't flinch when Bucky came so close that he nearly pressed to her back, or when he leaned over her shoulder to look at the menu, or when drops of rain fell from his hair onto her collarbone. Without a word Bucky reached out and tapped a metal finger over an item on the menu. 

A giddy smile stretched across her lips. Rose's heart soared knowing that he was actively making choices. She used that joy to stomp down the warm flutter between her ribs that came as a result of feeling surrounded by him.

She couldn't recall the last time she’d felt this way because of a man. 

"Good choice. I'll call in our orders," Rose said, pulling her phone from the back pocket of her jeans.

She put the phone to her ear as it rang and turned to face Bucky. He didn't give away much, either in speech or his expression, but sometimes she was able to catch a glint of emotion in his eyes and it made a world of difference.

Bucky was already watching her, his blue eyes so intense that it was a wonder the water didn't evaporate from her clothes. Without thinking, Rose reached up and brushed a strand of sopping wet hair out of his eyes. She froze with her fingers brushing behind his ear where she’d tucked the errant strand. Rose waited for the lash out, the metal hand squeezing her wrist, the bruising grip around her throat. Neither came.

Rose pulled her fingers away from Bucky's skin unharmed. She turned away quickly so he wouldn't see the blush that was heating her cheeks. 

"Do you—do you wanna go clean up first?" she choked out as the phone line rang in her ear.

There was a glimmer in Bucky's eye that she couldn't read.

“Szechuan Garden, what can I do for you?"

Rose startled when someone spoke on the other end of the line. “Hi, um, I'd like to place a delivery order."

"M’kay. Deliveries are a little delayed because of the rain, just so you know. What can I get started for you?"

Bucky retreated a half-step, glanced down at the puddle they'd made on the kitchen floor, and marched off down the hall. Rose watched him walk away and swallowed the lump in her throat. 

"Ma'am?"

Rose startled out of the trance Bucky's retreat had put her in.

"Sorry, can I get the vegetable lo mein with extra seitan puffs, uh, two orders of the pork fried rice, and twelve egg rolls?"

“Anything else?”

“No thank you.”

“’Kay, your order's in. What's the delivery address?"

Rose rattled off her home address without much thought, thanked the employee, and hung up. Down the hall she could hear the shower running. It was funny, since that first shower Bucky hadn't been afraid to go in alone. He usually spent a long while in there too.

Figuring it would be best to go ahead and change out of her wet clothes, Rose scurried to her bedroom and shut the door. She shimmied out of her sopping wet jeans, tee, and underwear, replacing them with a cropped t-shirt, silky pajama shorts, and thick knitted socks. She scooped up the wet laundry and dumped it in the dryer on her way back to the living room. 

By the time Bucky emerged from the bathroom, steam rolling off his shoulders, Rose had mopped up the kitchen and there was a mess of ingredients crowding the counter top.

"There you are! Can you help me get this bottle down?"

Rosemary came down from the tips of her toes and pointed to the top shelf of a cabinet that typically stayed shut. Before he'd come into the room it looked like Rosemary was half ready to climb the counter.

He moved into the kitchen and Rosemary stepped aside. She pulled down the hem of the t-shirt she wore to cover the sliver of skin that had been exposed during her reaching. Bucky easily plucked the bottle she pointed to from the shelf and placed it in her waiting hands. Rosemary's responding smile was sweeter than chocolate cake.

"I don't know if you'll like piña coladas—I can’t imagine anyone wouldn't—but you can try some of mine first and decide, okay?"

It wasn't really a question that called for an answer, so he kept still at the end of the kitchen, watching as she poured ingredients into a blender.

"This will be loud," She pressed the start button twice in quick succession. The blender roared to life for a split second. "Is that okay?" she asked.

His brows furrowed. He didn't see why it wouldn't be okay, he was used to far louder sounds that came with no warning at all. But the concerned twist of her features tugged at something in his gut. He didn’t have the words to explain what the feeling was or what it meant. He nodded.

Rosemary smiled. “It’ll be quick."

She danced from foot to foot as the blender did its job crushing ice, pineapple, and everything else into a creamy mixture. The thick socks on her feet looked homemade and tickled at something in his mind. He tried chasing the thread through his mind but it snapped abruptly when a knock came at the door. Rosemary didn't hear it over the noise of the blender. He stepped just close enough that he could tap her shoulder.

She startled and whirled around, shutting off the blender quickly. "Are you okay?"

Her breathless question was interrupted by another knock.

“The food!"

Abandoning the blender entirely, Rosemary ran to the door and yanked it open before he could pull her back and check for danger.

"Delivery for...Rose?" A male voice spoke from the doorway.

"That's me! Just a sec, let me grab my wallet."

Rosemary left the door flung wide open as she reached over and began to rifle through her tote bag. Bucky watched from the kitchen. The metal plates in his arm clicked against one another as tension tightened his shoulders. The careless manner in which Rosemary had tossed the door open grated at him. Did she have no sense of danger?

The delivery man's eyes slid down from the side of Rosemary's face to her chest, pausing There before continuing downward to her bare legs. She continued to dig through her bag, oblivious.

No, definitely no sense of danger.

The delivery man surely had some sense.

Bucky marched out of the kitchen and positioned himself at Rosemary's back. She didn't even twitch at his appearance. But the delivery man, once he was done leering at her exposed legs, glanced up and blanched. He gulped audibly and stumbled back half a step.

"Found it!" Rosemary exclaimed in victory, pulling her wallet out of the tote bag.

"That's uh, forty eight for the food, and please keep the rest" She counted out sixty dollars in various bills and handed it to the man.

But his eyes were still locked on Bucky. He held the bags of food out with trembling hands. Rosemary reached to grab the bags but Bucky beat her to it. His chest pressed to Rosemary's back as he reached around her, snatching the bags out of the man's grip. His eyes widened fearfully when he spotted metal where a hand should be.

Rosemary glanced over her shoulder at Bucky and smiled, tossing her wallet back into her tote.

"Th-thanks," the delivery man stuttered. "Have a good night." The delivery man turned and sprinted down the stairs.

"You too!" Rosemary called after him, oblivious to what just transpired.

She locked the door then turned to Bucky with a soft expression. It wasn't quite a smile but rather a softening of her features that had been happening more often lately. Rosemary's fingers brushed across his metal hand as she took one of the bags from him and went back to the kitchen. Bucky trailed after her as if pulled by magnets, following the sweet floral scent she left behind.

She set the bag on the counter and turned back to the blender to pour the mixture she'd made into tall glass. She took a sip and hummed in satisfaction.

"Here, try this." She held the glass out to him.

He set the other bag of food down beside the first and took the glass from her hand. Their fingers touched briefly and her shoulders quivered.

The glass was cold against Bucky’s lips. He had inferred as much from the ice that had been included in the drink, but he hadn't actually felt the cold in his left hand.

He took a cautious sip. Flavor slid across his tongue, sweet and creamy, accented by something slightly spicy. The flavor went immediately to the forefront of best things Rosemary had made for him. The list was slowly growing as each day passed. 

"How is it?" Rosemary stared up at him expectantly. Her wide brown eyes seemed to shine, though it was only the reflection of the ceiling light.

"Cold," he stated.

Rosemary huffed a breath and rolled her eyes.

"But do you like it?" 

The answer to that was simple. "Yes."

Rosemary's face lit up with a grin so wide it crinkled her nose and squinted her eyes. She seemed to glow under the fluorescent kitchen lights.

"I thought you might," she chuckled. "You can finish that one, then. There's plenty in here left for me.”

Sure enough, she poured out another tall glass, dropped thick straws into both their drinks, and clinked her glass against the one he held.

“Cheers!”

Rosemary took several enthusiastic draws from her straw. He watched the level in her glass fall rapidly. It continued to fall throughout the evening and into the early hours of the night. 

Three times she jumped up from the couch with an empty glass and went about blending a fresh batch of drinks. Each time she came back with a full glass for herself and another for him. He matched her pace easily but the drinks seemed to have a strange effect on her.

Several hours and drinks later, Rosemary lay sprawled out on the couch, her legs dangling over the arm, and a near-empty glass—her fourth of the night—in hand.  She chewed on the plastic straw and giggled absently at the movie playing on TV, though nothing humorous was happening. Rosemary finished the last of her drink. The straw made a gurgling sound at the bottom of the empty glass.

"I love piña coladas, don't you?" She twisted oddly, placing her head upside down to look over at him.

"Yes," he agreed. He very much liked the drinks.

Rosemary's cheeks pinkened as she looked at him. “And I love your voice," she giggled.

He blinked down at her. The statement did not make sense to him.

"You don't really talk much," she went on, shifting slightly on the couch. "But when you do it's all deep and quiet and tickles my brain—"

That statement only further confused him.

"—Some people just have that kind of voice, you know?"

He did not know.

"Like some voices are just so loud, even when they're not yelling or anything, it's just loud and I wish there was a volume down button to push. But other voices, like yours, they're nice and rich and mmh—" she broke out in a shiver and her eyes fell shut. "Those voices are my favorite."

Rosemary laid there with her eyes closed and a silly grin on her face. Bucky wasn't entirely sure what to make of her ramblings, but he gathered that she liked his voice. A gentle warmth sparked just behind his sternum. It was faint, just a candle flicker of emotion that he didn't know what to do with.

"I want another," Rosemary said and unceremoniously rolled off the couch.

Bucky registered what was happening a split second before Rosemary toppled onto the ground. He dove forward and caught her head before it could crack against the floor. 

They collapsed in a heap on the rug, with Rosemary on her back and Bucky clutching her shoulders. Her empty glass had rolled under the coffee table. 

Rosemary blinked up at the him a few times, seemingly confused by what had just occurred, and then burst into a fit of laughter. The sound was becoming familiar to Bucky and it constantly tugged at something in the depths of his mind. 

"Okay, maybe I don't need another. Ugh! Leave it to me to get wasted on freaking pineapple juice.”

She craned her head back to look at him.

"How come you're not drunk? Or are you drunk but just good at hiding it? Tara was like that," she rambled, flipping out of his arms and settling on her back. "She was an even bigger lightweight than me but she’d get all quiet and serious so you couldn't really tell. Unless someone started up karaoke, of course."

Bucky sat back on his heels, still crouched over her. She didn't seem to mind, or even notice. It was an odd angle, but Bucky found it gave him a new perception. 

He became acutely aware of the thin lines on her forehead, which appeared when she talked animatedly. The purple tinge beneath each of her eyes did not go unnoticed either. It had not been there when they'd first met—or maybe he hadn't noticed it until now? Then there was the remnant of a yellow bruise across her forearm. He recognized the shape of it instantly. None of his other missions lived long enough for their bruises to heal.

Rosemary giggled loudly at something and stared up at him. Her arms were stretched above her head, which was haloed by dark curls. The laugh trailed off her lips and she was left looking up at him with those wide brown eyes and a soft smile.

"You have really pretty eyes, Bucky," she whispered into the air between them.

A strand of hair fell forward against his face. The statement did not seem relevant to anything she’d been talking about before.

Rosemary reached up and tucked the errand strand of hair behind his ear. Her touch went as quickly as it came, but the feeling of it lingered there on his cheek, warm and shockingly welcome.

Rosemary's breath hitched. She swallowed hard. "I should get to bed."

She rolled away, breaking the stillness of the air between them. Rosemary stumbled upright. Bucky was on his feet in a heartbeat, holding her steady so she wouldn't topple into the coffee table.

"Come," he said, pulling her along toward her bedroom. It was clear she wasn’t entirely in control of her limbs at the moment.

Rosemary trailed behind him, still giggling about seemingly nothing.

From the corner of his eye he caught her hand raise and there came a swift tug on his hair. He froze in his tracks. Rosemary bumped into his back and stumbled back a couple steps until the grip on her arm stopped her short. Bucky's head whipped around. 

She was looking up at him from beneath her lashes. Her cheeks were still flushed a delicate shade of pink, as was the lip she worried between her teeth. 

"Sorry," she mumbled. "It's just so soft."

His mind could not make sense of her actions or words. This was so different from her usual behavior.

Rosemary took a half-step closer. Confusion churned with the piña coladas in his gut. She took another step. His metal hand whirred and tightened seemingly on its own. The sound echoed in the quiet of the apartment.

"Bucky..."

Rosemary's fingertips touched his cheek and that same tense, expectant feeling that had nearly consumed him earlier at the studio suddenly came back with a vengeance.

"I...Please say no. If you want me to stop, just say no, okay?" she pleaded.

The sudden shift in her mood hit him like a train. He could not begin to decipher the sudden depth of emotion painted across her delicate features. But he held very still and watched as she closed the remaining space between them and laid a hand over his heart.

"I want you to stop me, Bucky. Stop me if you're uncomfortable."

He did not move. The warmth of her hand resting on his chest was welcome, more so than he would’ve thought. Perhaps it was the fact that he could not remember ever being offered a choice, that made him curious to see what she was trying to do. It couldn’t be worse than anything he’d already been through.

The hand on his chest remained and her other slid over his shoulder. If she felt the mess of scar tissue at the meeting point between man and machine, she said nothing. 

Delicate fingers squeezed over his shoulder and suddenly Rosemary's lips were pressed against his own. It was over as quickly as it had happened. Rosemary's touch disappeared and in its absence he felt so much colder than before.

"I—um," she pressed a palm to her lips. Her eyes did not meet his again. "Goodnight."

Rosemary disappeared into her bedroom. The door shut him out with an echoing click and he was left staring at the thin slat of wood, his mind absolutely reeling. On the other side of the door Rosemary drew a shuddering breath and her back slid down the wood.

He did not hear her move again for a long time. He, too, was frozen in place, with the ghost of a kiss projected like a film against the sweeping white expanse of his mind.

Each time he tried to put the memory aside it jumped back out at him. He could not escape it. Bucky suddenly lamented that he lacked the vocabulary to fully explain the feeling. But he had no words for the emotions stirring between his ribs. All Bucky knew was that Rosemary’s kiss had been like the piña coladas they'd drank all evening: sweet and smooth and intoxicating.