Yesterday, Tomorrow, Today

To say that Rose had a sleepless night would be an understatement of criminal proportions. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Bucky and snapped wide awake. She couldn't get him out of her head. Of course, it didn't help that she'd been an absolute idiot and kissed him. 

Rose grabbed one of the heavy pillows that littered her bed and slapped it over her face to muffle a miserable whine. How could she have been so fucking stupid?

But his lips had been so soft and he'd tasted like pineapple and coconut. She shivered at the memory and her head throbbed. She'd definitely had a few drinks too many. 

Rose threw off the pillow and comforter, giving up on the idea of sleep. The sky beyond her bedroom windows was a dull yellowish gray. Dawn wasn't too far off.

She dressed quickly in the first thing she spotted in the closet, a red sundress with a borderline salacious slit up the side. She then scribbled out a note on a spare page torn from one of the many half-filled notebooks that littered her bedroom.

Bucky,

l've gone into work for a bit. Please sleep in, remember to eat, and don't leave the apartment without me. I'll try to be home early.

—Rose

She left the note on the kitchen counter on her way out of the apartment. Honestly, Rose was amazed that Bucky didn't wake up while she tiptoed around. If he'd slept in the corner of her bedroom, as he did most nights now, she definitely wouldn't have made it out of there without waking him. 

Rose paused, her hand on the front door knob, and glanced back into the living room. Bucky was huddled in the corner between the window and couch. His knees were pulled up to his chest and his head was leant back against the wall. 

For a split second Rose contemplated turning back, laying on the couch, and being there when Bucky woke. But the thought was quickly overriden by the mess of emotions in her head. 

Her heart throbbed as she opened the door. He hadn't even pulled a blanket over himself. 

She slipped into the hall, locked the door as quietly as she could, and ran down the stairwell. A heavy sense of guilt settled behind her bellybutton and she wondered briefly if this was what one night stands made people feel like. 

Rose didn't have any experience with that, but if this was what it felt like, she couldn't fathom why people did it. Of course, a single kiss wasn't exactly in league with a one night stand, but this was the first time she'd kissed someone she wasn't dating.

A bell above the café door chimed as Rose walked in. The shop was near her studio and had opened only a couple weeks ago, so she'd been meaning to try it out. 

"Morning! What can I get you?" The red haired man behind the counter greeted her with a smile.

"Hi, can I get a plain poppy seed bagel and a London fog?"

"Of course. The London fog will take a while to steep so feel free to sit and wait," the barista said to her. "That'll be $12.73."

"All good, take your time," Rose mumbled her customary line and swiped her credit card through the reader.

The man handed her a receipt and Rose found a seat near the window. She shoved the receipt into her bag absentmindedly as her eyes darted to the street outside. There was almost no one out in the city yet, but the slightest shift at the corner of her vision had Rose convinced that Bucky had somehow followed her.

It wasn't Bucky who came through the café door, though. 

A group of construction workers in yellow vests and thundering boots filed into the small shop. They each placed an order and sat down to wait. She hoped that she was imagining the lingering stares that prickled the back of her neck.

A song played quietly over the cafe speakers. Rose couldn't really make out the words. She tried to make out what the men were saying but they were speaking too softly. All she caught was a few laughs that circled through the group. 

"Poppy seed bagel and London fog."

Rose hopped off her stool, grabbed the wrapped bagel and steaming cup, said a quick thanks, and practically ran out of the café. Several pairs of eyes trailed her out of the shop. She wished Bucky was with her. 

The studio seemed so much bigger when she walked in alone for the first time in weeks. 

Rose flipped on the lights and put on a playlist, as she usually did. But the echo of music through the hollow space made her gut twist. 

"Okay, Rose, get it together," she mumbled to herself.

She put away her bag and took a sip from her cup. The hot tea burned her tongue so Rose set it aside on a work table. Her tongue and heart throbbed as she got to work setting up Aphrodite for retouching. 

She'd meant to let it dry over the weekend but then she'd gone and stupidly kissed her broody new roommate. Now here she was, hiding in her studio on a Saturday morning. 

Luckily, the isolation layer had dried enough overnight and the painting was ready to be worked on. Rose set it up on an easel and pulled the cart of conservation paints close. There wasn't that much to be done on the canvas, just a few spots of chipped and missing paint that needed to be addressed.

Rose dipped her brush into a messy palette and began laying color onto the canvas. She started with an inch-long fissure that cut through the flower field. 

After the fourth failed attempt Rose groaned and threw down her brush. The colors she’d laid down each time just didn't match the original. She raked her hands through her hair, yanking at the roots. The sting of it grounded her somehow.

The music playing over the speakers stopped suddenly as her phone began to ring. Rose happily abandoned the painting on its easel and ran to grab the phone. She didn't recognize the number and hesitated before picking up. It was unusual, but occasionally clients did call in.

"Hello?"

"Hey Rosie." Sam's voice crackled across the line.

"Sam, hey! This isn't your number."

"Yeah, I don't exactly get international coverage so I'm borrowing a friend's phone," he explained.

"International? I thought you were just out of town looking for someone?"

"Well I am out of town, pretty far out," he chuckled.

Rose shifted on her feet, clutching the phone tighter. "Any luck?"

Sam sighed. "Not yet. We've been chasing cold leads for a few weeks. This guy really knows how to disappear."

"We'll find him," a muffled voice from Sam's side of the line spoke up.

"Who's that?" Rose asked. She plopped down on a stool at the worktable and began absentmindedly picking at the edge.

"Oh, that's the friend I'm helping out. Say hi, Steve."

"Hi there," a smooth voice said.

"Hi," Rose responded. She hesitated a moment before tacking on, "Please make sure Sam stays safe.”

The man didn’t hesitate to answer. "Yes ma'am, I'll do my best."

"Man, I'm the one covering your ass most of the time. Seriously, Rosie, if you're worried about me let's hope you never meet this guy.”

Rose chuckled but there wasn't much humor in it.

"Well take care of each other then, so I don't have to worry twice as hard."

"Alright, alright. Hey, how's it going with that vet? I haven't gotten any distress calls yet."

"It's uh…it's going alright," she forced the words out as evenly as she could manage.

"Uh-oh. What happened?"

Rose sighed. She should've known Sam wouldn't be fooled.

"Am I on speaker?"

"No...?" Sam's tone veered towards suspicion.

"Well—ugh—Sam I'm so stupid."

The truth came pouring out like she'd opened a floodgate.

"It was going so well, except for the whole toaster thing, but we got past it. And he's been so great, talking more, being so polite, caring even, and I had to go and fuck it all up—"

"Okay, how about you slow down and tell me what went down."

"I kissed him," she admitted in a whisper.

"Woah!"

"I know!" Rose groaned and slapped a hand over her face.

She could almost hear Sam smirking. "Was he a bad kisser or something? Cuz I know that can be a deal breaker—"

"No! No, I—I mean I don't even know if it was good or not, it was so quick and I was drunk, and I hid in my room and snuck out to the studio alone this morning because I don't know what to do—stop laughing!"

"Sorry! Sorry," he chuckled. "Rosie, you're making a problem out of nothing. Go and talk to the guy. I'm pretty sure he'll confirm that no guy in the history of the world has ever taken issue with being kissed by a beautiful woman."

Rose was quiet, fiddling with the cup sleeve on her drink. The sleeve slipped down and she caught sight of something written on the cup. Rose turned it to get a better look and saw a phone number, followed by a smiley face, scrawled in black across the side of her cup.

"You think I'm beautiful?"

Sam sighed. "Look in a mirror, kid. And when you're done with that go talk to the man! I guarantee that he won't say anything half as bad as whatever scenario you're cooking up in your head right now."

Rose spun around in her chair. "Don't you ever get tired of talking people off their ledges?"

"Never. Now go talk to him, I’ve gotta get back."

"Okay, okay, I'll talk to him."

"You'd better tell me how it turns out!"

Rose laughed. "I will. Be careful, Sam." 

"You too, kid." 

The line clicked and Rose sprung out of her seat. Sam was right, as usual. She needed to know how Bucky felt before she started stewing over worst case scenarios. 

Rose abandoned the painting on its easel, grabbed her tote bag and half-full cup, and ran out the door.

The sun was high above DC and people bustled through the streets. Rose wove through the crowds towards the subway. She swiped in and practically ran to the platform. Ahead of her the train doors were just starting to close. Rose broke into a sprint and jumped onto the train. The doors shut behind her with a quiet his. 

The train car was packed so Rose picked a spot to stand in near the doors. She was too anxious to sit anyway.

Each stop seemed to take ages. Her foot tapped impatiently as she sipped her drink, which had grown cold. With each lurch of the train her dress fluttered around her ankles. Rose pulled on the material a couple times, adjusting the long slit so it didn't expose too much.

The third time she tugged her dress she looked up and spotted a man watching her. She whipped her head around and hoped to whatever god was out there that he’d just look away. She didn't need anything else to be anxious about.

Finally, her stop came up and Rose practically leapt off the train. She squeezed through the doors before they were fully open and sped towards the exit. She was halfway up the stairs when she felt a telltale prickling at the back of her neck. 

Her stomach filled with dread. A glance over her shoulder from the top of the stairs was all the confirmation she needed. Someone was trailing after her.

Heart pounding, Rose hurried down the street, desperately trying to disappear in the crowd. It was no use. Every corner she turned, he was there a moment later. Frustrated tears pressed at the backs of her eyes. She just wanted to get home.

The crosswalk signal turned red before she could sprint across the street. A crowd of people pressed in around her but did nothing to soothe her fears. Rose bounced on her toes, unable to contain the roiling anxiety inside her. Despite knowing better, Rose looked back over her shoulder. A man stared back at her. 

A heavy arm fell across her shoulders.

Rose jumped, whipping her head to the left. Her fear melted in an instant.

Bucky's baseball cap was pulled low over his face. He didn't say a word. But when he turned his head and fixed a cold glare on the man behind her, Rose nearly sobbed with relief. His arm tightened around her and it was like someone had thrown a warm blanket over her.

A shuddering breath broke from her lips and Rose buried her face in Bucky's shoulder.

He was warm and firm and smelled like her laundry detergent. She fisted the fabric of his shirt and, for just a moment, allowed herself to cling to him and feel okay.

The crossing signal turned green. Bucky glared over his shoulder a moment longer before turning forward and starting across the street with Rosemary tucked securely under his arm.

She was shaking. His jaw clenched but he forced himself to march forward. He itched to turn back and finish off the man who'd stalked her from the train.

The wild look in her eyes when she'd emerged from the subway station had narrowed his mind to a single, consuming purpose: protect.

The keys in Rosemary's hand clanked and shook as she wiggled the key her apartment building's front door. One of her hands still clutched a fistful of fabric at the back of his shirt. In other circumstances he might have taken a moment to ponder the feeling of her arm wrapped around him beneath his jacket.

But this was not that moment. They were still exposed. He would not be at ease until Rosemary was safely home.

They walked up the stairs quickly. He refrained from taking them two at a time. Rosemary wiggled the key in the apartment lock until it unstuck and then pushed through the door. She dropped her tote bag and keys on the ground instead of hanging them by the door and paced into the living room with her shoes still on.

Bucky gathered her things and put them in their proper place, then toed off his boots and placed them on the rack by the door. Rosemary was pacing a line into the living room rug. The red dress she wore swirled around her legs with each step and every time she turned the slit along the side of her dress fluttered open and gave him a glimpse of a long, smooth leg.

His jaw clenched. "Rosemary," he called.

Her head snapped up, shock painted clearly across her face.

"Shit. I'm sorry, Bucky, I'm so sorry. I ugh—" she groaned and blew out a breath. "My head is everywhere right now. And last night—"

"Are you hurt?" he interrupted.

Rosemary reared back as if she'd been struck. Bucky's left hand groaned as it clenched into a fist.

"Hurt? No, no, why would I be—"

"The man who followed you. Did he hurt you?"

Her shoulders drooped. "You're talking about today," she sighed. "No, he didn't hurt me. He didn't have the chance."

Rosemary paused her pacing. Her hands wrung together nervously. "Thank you Bucky. I—I don't know what I would've done if you weren't there."

She glanced at him from beneath her lashes and quickly looked away.

"You left." He bit out.

Rosemary paled. "Yeah... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I thought that I needed time to clear my head before we talked but turns out we actually need to talk before my head can clear up."

Her eyes darted back and forth as she talked but did not land on him again. Bucky marched forward. In three steps he closed in on her. Rosemary gasped when he gripped her chin. Now she was looking at him.

"You can't leave alone," he said.

Rosemary blinked at him. "I...I don't understand."

His teeth ground together. He had only ever failed one mission. He would not fail again.

"I need to protect you. You can't leave alone."

He wouldn't have seen it if they weren't standing so close. Rosemary's expression shifted slightly. Her brows relaxed, eyes opened a millimeter wider, and jaw slackened. The physical changes were minute, but the emotion that swept across her features was monumental.

"You want to protect me?" her whisper came out hoarsely.

Bucky didn't need to even consider the question.

"Yes."

Rosemary's lip trembled, "Bucky—" she choked out his name and launched herself at him.

Her arms wrapped around his neck and squeezed. If she were anyone else he'd have twisted her arms to break the hold. But Rosemary wasn't trying to hurt him, of that he was sure.

She sniffled against his shoulder and hugged him tighter. Her feet shuffled and she pressed closer to his chest. Bucky looked down and saw that she stood balanced on her toes. Most of her weight leant on him and he took it easily. Her balance wavered. Bucky wrapped an arm around her back to keep her steady. The action pressed her even closer.

Rosemary was soft and warm against him. An unfamiliar panic gripped his throat, the same panic that he’d felt waking up to an empty apartment and her note on the counter.

Bucky wrapped his other arm around Rosemary. Metal fingers coiled around the back of her neck and his nose pressed to her hair. Rosemary shivered and sighed against his shoulder. 

"We should talk about last night," she said.