Yesterday, Tomorrow, Today

The homecoming didn't feel much like coming home.

The gate outside Rose’s building creaked as usual, the key stuck in the lock as usual, but something about being there just felt wrong.

She hesitated in the doorway. The air inside her apartment was stale, dust motes floated aimlessly through the beams of sunlight that shone through the jagged slashes in the living room curtains.

Rose took a fortifying breath and stepped inside. She moved into the living room, not bothering to take off her sneakers at the door. Probably for the best, seeing as broken glass still littered the ground. Behind her, Bucky closed and locked the door. His heavy boots crunched over the glass she'd carefully avoided as he came to stand at her back like a shadow, close but not quite touching. The bags he’d been carrying thunked quietly when he set them down. 

The touch of his fingertips on her shoulder startled Rose. Her arms curled around her middle as she tried to hold herself together against the wreckage around them. 

"I'll do a walk through," Bucky said and disappeared down the hallway, leaving Rose alone with the mess that had become of her home.

She swallowed thickly, willing the lump in her throat to dissolve. It didn't. Rose stood there, in the fragile circle of her own arms, surrounded by the shrapnel of a home she'd loved, a home she'd felt safe in. But looking around at the torn curtains, the shattered coffee table, and the slashed couch…it didn't feel like home. 

A shiver crawled down her spine. Rose rubbed at her arms to make the goosebumps go away.

"Bed and bathroom are clear." 

Bucky's quiet rasp was a welcome distraction. He passed by Rose, shrugging out of his jacket and draping it over her shoulders as he went.

She sank into the familiar warmth of it, tucked her nose against the collar and breathed in Bucky's scent. Soap and lilacs—her own shampoo and perfume—were the main notes clinging to the leather, but beneath it was a scent she didn't have a word for, something distinctly Bucky. 

She looked at him over her shoulder, wrapping herself tighter inside his jacket. Bucky was rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. Most of the dishes were intact, much to Rose’s relief, but he didn't seem to be looking at them at all. 

Rose watched him reach a hand under the sink and feel around for a moment before pulling out a short knife. Bucky, unlike Rose, didn't seem at all shocked to find it there. She gasped, drawing Bucky's eye. He scanned her from head to toe before ducking down and hiding the knife beneath the sink once again. 

"How—how long has that been there?" Rose gaped at him.

"Since my first night here." 

Bucky marched over to the potted plant by the door, which was looking a little too yellow. Rose made a mental note to water her plants. 

"You...you hid a knife under the sink?" 

She blinked at Bucky's back as he crouched in front of the plant and dug his fingers into the dirt. 

"Why? What are you—oh my god!"

Bucky pulled another knife from the dirt, nodded to himself, and promptly buried it back beneath the soil. Rose gaped at him, baffled by the calm demeanor in which he was conducting the most bizarre scavenger hunt she'd ever seen. 

"Why did you...Bucky, why are there knives hidden around my apartment?” 

"Protection," he grunted. 

"What? From who?"

Bucky stilled. His jaw twitched. 

"From you," he admitted quietly. 

Coldness swept through Rose, settling uncomfortably in her heart.
 
"Me?" 

Bucky sighed and his head dropped. Loose strands of hair fell forward, brushing against his forehead in a way that would’ve made Rose's heart race if it weren't currently on the verge of breaking. His icy blue eyes lifted to her face, softening as they swept over her. He chanced a step closer. 

"I didn't know you then. I…was doing what my training dictated." 

He brushed the back of his hand against her cheek, careful not to smudge dirt onto her skin. 

"I'm sorry, doll. I wasn't in my right mind."

Relief coursed through her. Rose shook her head quickly, clutching to his wrist and pressing a kiss there.

"Don't apologize," she whispered. "You never have to apologize for that." 

"Yes, I do—"

"No, Bucky. It wasn't your fault." 

He hesitated. 

"But it was my actions. I'm sorry I scared you."

Rose glanced up into his eyes, blue and deep and so expressive it stole her breath every time. She squeezed his wrist once again.

"You could never scare me. Not anymore."

Bucky's fingers twitched against her skin. Then his knuckles slid down her neck and disappeared. 

"I've got a few more to check on," he said.

Rose nodded. 

"Okay...I should probably call Sam."

Bucky's jaw clenched. He nodded and moved into the living room. Rose watched his back as he searched the room, pulling knives out of their hiding spots before tucking them back.

Rose sighed and pulled her phone out, powering it on. She'd been neglecting it while wrapped up in Bucky during their studio hideaway. The screen lit up and notifications began pouring in. Mostly texts from her mother. Rose swiped them away without looking. There was also two missed calls from a number she didn't recognize. Rose clicked on the number and dialed back.

The line crackled before a familiar voice came on. 

"Rosie! Where've you been?" Sam's bright voice called through the phone. 

Rose's nose stung with oncoming tears. 

"Hey Sam," she croaked. "You okay over there?"

She was avoiding his question and they both knew it.

"We hit a wall. No intel coming in anymore. So no more leads for us to chase. Looks like I'll be home sooner than I thought."

In the living room, Bucky tucked a knife underneath the couch and brushed by Rose as he headed back to the kitchen.

"Living room's clear," he murmured, placing a kiss on her hair as he passed. 

"Who's that?" Sam's voice called from the phone.

"That's, uh, the guy I told you about."

Sam was quiet for a moment. 

"And what'd he mean the living room's clear? Clear of what?"

"Well..." Rose began, biting at her lip to keep the tears at bay. 

"Rosie," his voice grew serious. "What happened?"

Rose gulped, opened her mouth to explain, and it call came tumbling out in a blubbering mess. The stalker. The photos. Living at the studio. The break in. Coming home. All of it.

Sam was quiet as she sobbed into the phone. The only indication that he was still listening were the occasional hitches of his breath when she broke another piece of news. Finally, when everything was out in the open and tension hung heavy in the air, Sam sighed.

"Why didn't you call me sooner, Rosie?"

"You were busy," she said lamely.

Sam blew out a breath of air and Rose could almost see him on the other end of the line: eyes closed and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Dammit, Rosie—"

She flinched at the disappointment in his voice.

"What do I gotta to do for you to understand that you’re a priority for me? Unless the world is literally at stake—which, yeah, sometimes it is—but if that’s not happening then you're number one on my list. When are you gonna get that?"

A hot tear fell onto her cheek. 

"I'm sorry," she mumbled miserably, shutting her eyes. She opened them to find Bucky in front of her.

"Don't be sorry, kid." Sam sighed. "Just call me. Whatever you're going through, just let me help."

Rose pressed the phone closer to her ear, holding back another bout of tears. Bucky's eyes never left hers, even as he cupped her cheek and brushed the stray tear from her face. The metal of his hand was a welcome balm against her heated skin. And though he didn't say it outright like Sam, it felt like Bucky was telling her the same thing. Let me help.

Rose sniffled and nodded to reassure both Bucky and herself. 

"Okay," she croaked. "Thanks, Sam."

Bucky's thumb swept over her cheek once more and he was gone. Sam sighed over the phone.

"Alright. I'm gonna catch a flight home as soon as I can, just need to tie up a few loose ends here. Sit tight until I get there. And if anything else happens you'll…"

"Call you," Rose finished for him. 

"There we go," he said "Not that hard to do." 

The corner of Rose's mouth twitched up.

"Thanks Sammy," she mumbled.

"Anytime, kid," he said. Silence stretched between them until he cleared his throat. "So...things are good with your guy?"

"Yeah..." 

Rose glanced over at Bucky, who was sweeping up the mess in the kitchen. A smile tugged at her lips.

"Things are good."

"Well good, otherwise I'd have to kick his ass."

Rose snorted despite herself. Sam huffed on the line.

"What? You don't think I can take him? I've got military training too, ya know."

"No, no, it's not that," Rose chuckled. "It'd just be a hell of a sight." 

It was true that Sam and Bucky both had military training. But Bucky had a metal arm. Rose wasn’t sure it would be much of a fair fight. 

"Mhm, well he'd better watch his back. Nobody hurts my Rosie and gets away with it."

He said it teasingly but Rose knew it was both a promise and a threat. 

"Try not to go all big-brother on him, okay? He really is a good man, Sam. I know it."

Sam was quiet for a second too long. 

"Fine," he said. "I won't grill him first thing. And for what it's worth, I'm glad he's one of the good ones. Can't wait to meet him myself."

A little smile curled Rose's lips. 

"I think you'll like him."

"I'm sure I will, Rosie." Sam said. "Stay safe, okay? I'll be home soon."

"See you soon, Sam."

Rose ended the call just in time to see a text message pop up on her screen, along with an email. 

Quote for restoration
Hello, I wonder if you could provide...

Vivienne Pierce
Call me immediately.

Rose swiped the text away, unread. She wouldn't be calling anyone else today, especially not her mother. The only thing she wanted was chocolate cake and a moment of peace. Rose turned her phone back off, feeling lighter the moment her screen went dark. She walked into the kitchen, which was now free of any debris, thanks to Bucky.

He was grabbing a trash bag from under the sink when she came in, the same sink he'd apparently hidden a knife beneath—she’d compartmentalize that later. For now, Rose set about a familiar routine. Bowl, flour, butter, milk.

Bucky brushed a hand over her hip as he passed into the living room. Some of the tension bled out of her shoulders. Rose glanced back at him, where he was now cleaning up the living room. A strange warmth ached between her ribs. Rose turned back to her baking with a growing smile. 

After Tara, Rose had confined herself to all things familiar and safe. The apartment, the studio, chocolate cake, and solitude. These things were safe. Safe and...isolating. 

It hadn’t taken long for concerned friends to stop calling. All except for Sam, of course. He never stopped calling, or coming by with lunch, or dropping by the studio with two coffees in hand. He'd shown her that he was also a safe place. But more than that, Sam made sure she wasn't alone, even when she felt like she was, even when she thought she wanted to be. 

Rose poured a half-cup of milk into the bowl and began to stir. As the batter came together she glanced into the living room and caught Bucky already looking at her. The corner of his mouth quirked in that almost-smile and warmth pooled in her stomach. Rose grinned and turned away to hide the blush creeping up her cheeks.

Somewhere between squatting in her studio and now cleaning up the wreckage of her apartment, Bucky had become safe and familiar to her as well. Rose just hoped that she was a safe place for him too.