The Great Depression

You willed your leg to stop shaking under the table, but it wouldn’t listen. Your body had to expend some of this nervous energy somehow. You had been debating talking to them about this for a week now, but you still weren’t sure what you were going to say. You didn’t usually talk about this stuff with anyone in your life, but you were finally considering opening up to your boyfriends. That is until you actually saw them enter the restaurant. You instinctively looked down and avoided eye contact instead of smiling at them like you usually did. Your heart threatened to beat out of your chest. You felt physically ill. This really isn’t their problem. I’ll probably be fine soon anyway. No need to bother them with this. Especially when they’ve been so stressed recently. And so it was decided. You’d keep that nagging, empty feeling to yourself and hope it didn’t spread. Pray that it didn’t turn into what you knew it would.

Your decision was made by the time they reached the table. When they sat down across from you, you immediately knew something was wrong. No casual demeanor or easy smiles. If you didn’t have that growing pit in your stomach, you might’ve quipped, “At ease, soldiers.” But no, they didn’t look to be in the mood for jokes: their faces were tight, body language tense. It was probably work-related. It always was lately.

“Work?”

They nodded guiltily.

“We just got the call,” Steve said.

“How long will you be gone?”

They exchanged glances, each silently urging the other to answer your question, deal that blow.

“Just tell me.”

“Three weeks minimum. Zero contact.”

You felt like you had been punched in the gut. You hadn’t realized it could get that bad.

“Both of you?” you whispered.

When they nodded, it took everything you had not to start crying in the middle of the restaurant. You already felt emotionally raw, like all your nerve endings were on display. A public breakdown was the last thing you needed. And the very last thing they needed. This mission sounded serious. They needed to be focused. You were glad the call had come before lunch, before you could blather on about your feelings and encourage them to do something stupid like skip this mission where they were obviously needed. You refused to send them out there with any fear or guilt weighing on them, so you put on your bravest face. You blinked a couple times, took a breath, and nodded.

“Okay,” you said finally.

“We are so, so sorry,” Bucky said.

“It’s okay. I understand. You’re leaving right now?”

They nodded.

“I knew better than to order before you got here,” you said, standing up.

“You don’t want to eat?”

“I’m not that hungry.”

You avoided eye contact. You weren’t sure why this was so hard. It was just like sending them on any other mission. You just needed to keep it together for a few more moments. You expected to say goodbye outside of the restaurant, but Bucky kept your hand, led you across the street and into his apartment. He put a hand on your face and looked into your eyes like they would tell him everything you were holding back. Maybe they did, because he pulled you into a hug that lasted for a good five minutes and you were an emotional wreck by the end of it. You tried to pull away a couple times because you were barely holding it together breathing in his scent and feeling his arms around you. But he kept hold of you until you were sobbing into his shoulder. And then Steve was behind you, hugging you too, and you just cried harder. You tried to get it together, remind yourself that they had to go, but your body wouldn’t cooperate.

“Please just go. ‘Mnot gonna stop any time soon.”

“I can’t leave you like this.”

“You have to.”

He was looking over your shoulder at Steve, as if Steve had the power to erase this mission from existence, the power to change who they were and what they had to do.

“I’ll be fine,” you lied.

“Things are gonna be different after this mission, I promise.” He kissed your forehead and sat you down on your favorite spot on the couch. He got the softest blanket from his bed as Steve made you a cup of tea. Their phones beeped and you all flinched. They finished getting you settled and you were biting your lip to keep it from trembling. They told you they loved you and you nodded curtly. They took a while to leave, and you couldn’t even bear to look in their direction, trying to hold it together until you heard the door close and could let go.

...

In the hallway, when the door shut behind them and they heard your sobs, their first instinct was to go to you. Bucky’s hand was on the doorknob when their phones beeped again. They had to go. They told themselves that this mission would be worth it.

...

You weren’t done crying, and you certainly didn’t feel like getting off of Bucky’s couch, but eventually it was time to head back to work. You got up and pulled yourself together like you had done a thousand times before. You splashed cold water on your face, took a few deep breaths, and gulped down some water.

You were still liable to start crying at any moment, but you just had to make it through the next few hours. Then you could go home and indulge in some good, old-fashioned wallowing. You kept to yourself for the rest of the workday. You knew that if someone asked you what was wrong you would lose it. You didn’t like to abuse the fact that your boyfriends had hired your boss, but today you clocked out 5 minutes early so you wouldn’t have to say goodbye to your friends.

For the first time you were grateful that Liv was away in Paris for a month-long work project. You had missed her these past few days, but you were glad for the opportunity to crumble in peace. You shed your work clothes and shuffled over to the couch, hoping to fall into television oblivion. It worked. Real Housewives and cold leftovers. No shower. No teeth brushing. No dishes. Just dozing off on the couch until you finally shut off the TV at 3 am and crawled into bed.

Maybe this won’t be so bad, you thought. Maybe I just needed to cry about it for a little bit. Maybe I’ll feel better in the morning.

You didn’t, of course. You didn’t feel better the morning after that, either. Your energy continued to plummet along with your mood until your entire existence was clouded with a fog of melancholy.

At first, you just appreciated the opportunity to be less than perfect. Letting dishes pile up in the sink and skipping a few teeth brushings—not great habits, but you weren’t hurting anybody. The first few days you actually felt a little free. But then you were feeling worse, and it scared you. Because you realized you had no one to talk to, no one to notice if you were too far gone, no one to pull you out if you slipped too far under. You reminded yourself that you had pulled yourself out of deep depressions before.

But this didn’t feel like before. This hole was deeper. Your depression had been so well-behaved, even after the library incident, that you started to hope it was gracefully fading out of your life. Mental illness was the constant companion that you prayed every night would ghost you. And yet here it was, creeping back into a life where it didn’t belong. It had no place here anymore: your life had never been so full of love and happiness. You were overflowing with all this love that you hadn’t even known you’d had to give, didn’t know that you could even hope to receive. It felt ungrateful to be having anything other than gratitude and joy at this moment in your life.

But that’s not the way depression works. It really doesn’t care about your circumstances. When depression says to lay in bed and cry all day, you lay in bed and cry all day. If it says to be late to work because you need to dissociate for 20 minutes while brushing your teeth, then that’s exactly what you do. It’s exhausting. And it’s even more exhausting to hide your bad days from everyone. Not because you think they’d judge you or that they wouldn’t be supportive, but because this was your burden to bear.

And so your thoughts spiraled and consumed you. It was almost laughable how quickly you had deteriorated in just a few weeks. You hoped that by some miracle you would be feeling better by the time the boys got back. That you would have the energy to look cute and cook for them and love on them. You hoped that they were being safe. You hoped that they weren’t spending too much energy worrying about you.

You didn’t want them to come back to the same sobbing mess that they left. But it was just your luck that your therapist was gone for the entire three weeks Steve and Bucky were out—she had a stupid conference or something. You had an appointment scheduled for the week she got back, but you didn’t know if you would make it that long. You didn’t want to alarm anyone, but you had never felt this close to the edge, this ready to embrace oblivion. The void was consuming you. You couldn’t see any way out.

You had a vague grasp on what day it was, and knew the boys would (hopefully? hopefully not?) be back soon. You didn’t know if you could face them, not like this. While you were a team in your relationship, this was your own battle to fight.

A battle that you were losing. Every day you lost more ground until one day you found yourself backed against a wall.

Now I’m laying in bed, no plans to get out. Missed work, Haven’t called in sick. I’m going to lose my job…(and my health insurance, and my therapist, and my boyfriends, and my friends, and my apartment. What am I gonna do? Move back in with my mom and say, “Sorry mom, guess I was too lazy to do the absolute minimum that was asked of me as a functional adult. Mind if I freeload?”) Yeah, that would go over well.

I’ll be fine. I just have to make it to next week. Maybe there’s some magic pill Dr. Adeyemi can prescribe me. Maybe I’ll start feeling better. Maybe Steve and Bucky will stay on the mission just a little longer and give me a chance to pull things together.

Who am I kidding? Things won’t be better tomorrow or next week. Steve and Bucky will leave me. I’ll never find love like that again. I ruined my one chance at happiness because I’m ungrateful and worthless. I was never lovable, I was just pretending to be that way. Maybe my mind got tired of the charade. I’m going to lose everyone and everything I ever loved and it will be all my fault. Get up. Get up. GET UP! Get up right now and go to work. Get up and clean your apartment. Get up and use the bathroom, your bladder’s been screaming at you for hours. Get up.

You could scream at yourself all that you wanted, but it was no use. You failed. If this was a test of your ability to handle the real world, handle adulthood, you failed. You faked it for as long as you could, but it was finally evident: you didn’t have what it took. You never had, you never would. So what do you do? When you discover that maybe you just aren’t cut out for life?

You felt bad for your poor boyfriends, who you had tricked into loving you. They didn’t know this you. The real you. The ugly you. They couldn’t love this woman. They wouldn’t recognize her. And they definitely deserved better than her. If they ever met her, met you, they would be so repulsed they would run away and never come back, find someone better and never think about you again for as long as they lived, except maybe the occasional nightmare. But they’d wake up next to someone prettier, more fun, more alive, and they’d realize they were safe. That you couldn’t hurt them anymore. They’d remember that they were better off. And they’d sleep peacefully.

Maybe that was for the best. For everyone. Maybe you could make a clean break. Maybe FRIDAY could have some cleaning bots come so that no one had to deal with the mess. Or maybe you should leave the place in its exact state so everyone would know how much better off they truly were.

Decisions, decisions.

…

You had no idea how much they worried about you. How silent they had been when they left you at Bucky’s and boarded the jet. How stoic they were for the entirety of the long, intense mission. How there was a growing pit in their stomachs that the success of the mission couldn’t assuage. How, before they went offline, they broke protocol to ask your boss to go extra easy on you at work. And, after they went offline, they wished they had done more—arranged for you to be sent flowers, pre-recorded some videos for FRIDAY to send you every day. Everything had just happened so fast. Not that any of that would’ve changed anything. But they were men of action, unused to being useless. Fearful of what had gone unsaid. Hopeful that things were better for you. When they found your notes in their bags, it almost brought them to tears. You had gotten in the habit of writing them notes since the day you realized they kept bags pre-packed for missions. You slipped the notes in for them to find, usually just a few words of encouragement. But with all the work they’d been doing lately, you’d had a feeling they’d be due for an intense mission soon, so you’d taken extra care with your most recent notes.

When they were finally headed home, they called you immediately. They wanted to take you to lunch, make up for last time. It went straight to voicemail. Bucky’s blood ran cold. He’d called you at 3am before and you’d still picked up on the third ring. And you always texted back at work, even if you couldn’t call. He tried not to let his anxiety get the best of him. Maybe, for the first time, you’d left your phone at home. Maybe you lost it. You were always losing things. They tried texting. Nothing. Maybe you’d forgotten to charge your phone, Bucky told himself, although you always kept your phone charged, always had a charger and usually a power bank, citing your trusty Girl Scout preparedness skills. He called Brandon, who picked up instantly—Bucky could hear him rushing out of the archives to a spot with better reception.

“Hey!” he breathed. “Are you with Amy?”

Bucky froze for just a moment. He had recognized something in your eyes when they’d last seen you. He feared the worst.

Steve took over. “What do you mean? She’s not there?”

“She didn’t come in today. Didn’t call in sick or anything. Camilla and I have been trying to call and text her all morning.”

Bucky got up and made a call of his own, to your agents. They’d seen you come in last night after work and you hadn’t come out again. As Steve was promising Brandon to keep him updated and talking him out of going to your apartment to look for you (“Vi works from home some days. I can send her over.” “No, no. We’ll be there soon.”), Bucky tried your cameras. He knew he wasn’t supposed to, but this was an emergency. He soon discovered that he was locked out. FRIDAY’s “Access Denied” sent him from cold fear to panic.

“What do you mean denied?”

“Privacy Mode activated. Access denied.”

“Override.”

“Override failed.”

“Can you at least put a call through?”

“Negative. ‘Do Not Disturb’ enabled.”

“Override.”

“Override failed.”

Bucky huffed, “Alright, so who has clearance?”

“Carlisle, Amy R.”

Bucky pleaded, “Can you at least tell me if she’s...alive?”

“Heartbeat—” Bucky held his breath, “detected.”

Bucky exhaled. “Can you give me anything more than that?”

“Non-vital health information is not available when Privacy Mode is enabled.”

Bucky threw down his phone in frustration. Steve had already upped the jet to max speed and arranged to be dropped at your building. All they could do was wait.

…

You were buried in a mound of blankets and pillows, music blasting. You didn’t know the last time you’d showered or changed your sheets. Today was the first day you hadn’t managed to grab some clothes off the floor and sniff-check them before putting them on, run a baby wipe under your armpits, gargle some mouthwash, throw on a headband, and suffer through work, counting down the seconds until you could collapse on the couch, mindlessly watch TV, and hopefully eat something. You couldn’t sleep, so you’d just let the TV taunt you until your eyes shut for a few hours. It wasn’t the best way to live, but you had been making it work. Until today. You just couldn’t do it. Couldn’t get out of bed. It was one thing to be late to work, but it was past lunchtime and the only thing you had only managed to do today was use the restroom, and even that had been a struggle.

Your emotions were circling you, sniffing out their wounded prey, ready to make the kill. Sadness, yes. Fear, guilt, anger. Insecurity. They were consuming you. Feasting on your peace and happiness. So you turned your music up louder and louder. You could still feel, but at least you could no longer think. The incessant internal monologue was drowned out, and for now that was the absolute best you could do. You told FRIDAY not to disturb you for any reason, so the music never stopped, so that you could get a little lost. Give in to the void a bit.

And so you didn’t hear the front door. You didn’t hear your boys calling you. You felt the atmosphere shift in the room, could feel a disturbance. Something started to pull the covers back but you fought it, pulling the sheets with all your might, fighting to keep your cover.

You heard it then. Not Steve. Captain America’s commanding voice finding its way above the noise, “FRIDAY, can you lower the volume please?”

The volume lowered. Traitor, you mentally cursed FRIDAY. You knew the boys had voice authorization of your security system, but you were hoping FRIDAY would do you a solid and keep the boys from seeing you like this and keep the music up, helping you avoid the forthcoming conversation.

Bucky called your name cautiously. You didn’t move. The covers were pried back from you, but you used your arm to cover your face. You had never felt (and surely had never looked) so…unpresentable. And your apartment...you didn’t know how messy and dirty a place could get. With the music gone, and the covers pulled back, you couldn’t block it all out anymore. You could feel your boys’ eyes on you. There was nowhere to hide.

“Please,” Steve sounded desperate. “Talk to us.”

Where to even begin? And even if you felt like telling them everything, you were too ashamed to face them right now.

“Why don’t we get you cleaned up, hm? A nice bath always makes you feel better,” Bucky tried.

You shook your head vigorously. Your beautiful bathroom was a disaster. “No. It’s dirty.”

“Well, we’ll clean it up.”

“No!” They couldn’t see the mess. They had already seen too much. “You two should just—”

“No,” Bucky interrupted. “We are not leaving. Steve, go clean the bathroom.”

“On it,” Steve said, already heading towards the bathroom.

You were desperate now. Desperate for them to leave. Shame and fear were settling in now. You could be sick thinking about Steve cleaning up that bathroom. You didn’t want anyone to see you like this, especially not them.

“Just go—”

“We are NOT leaving you.”

“Bucky. Please. Please just go.”

“No.”

You let out a frustrated groan.

“You don’t have to talk about what’s wrong. But I know a bath will help you feel better, and maybe some food?”

You should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy to get rid of them. You admitted defeat, finally moving your arms but keeping your eyes closed.

“Should have known mentioning food would help you open up.”

You rewarded him with a half-hearted smile.

“Can I hold you?” he asked. You nodded and he scooped you up, kissing your forehead and holding you close to him.

He had showered in the jet. You could smell the different soap. You didn’t even want to think about how you smelled right now, the stench surely only amplified by his heightened senses. He’d probably been so excited to get back and see you. Bet he wishes he was back fighting bad guys right now. A fight with The Abomination in the sewers would probably be cleaner and nicer than the disgusting person and place he’s stuck with right now.

“Cut yourself a break. Stop thinking those things about yourself,” Bucky said.

“Who are you, Wanda? Get out of my head.”

“I know what it’s like. To be ashamed.”

“Yeah, but that wasn’t you.”

“And this is you?”

You didn't answer. If he knew that this was indeed you, he might leave. He’d definitely leave. And as much as you hated him seeing you like this, the only thing worse would be never seeing him again. And that would be your reality soon enough.

“I’m not just talking about Winter Soldier stuff,” Bucky continued. “I was a mess after. Hell, sometimes I still feel like a mess.”

He was trying to be helpful. Normally you would've appreciated that. But you doubted that at his messiest he had been so repulsive and utterly useless.

“I said cut it out,” he said gently.

You buried your head in his chest and screamed in frustration. You hated feeling like this.

Bucky started humming and softly singing a song in another language. It sounded like a lullaby. If you focused on that tune, you could pretend that things were different.

You must have fallen asleep at some point because you woke up to the feeling of being shifted. They were saying something and you opened your eyes. The boys were helping you out of your clothes and Steve was carrying you into a spotless bathroom. The bath was already run and he placed you in it. He washed you slowly and carefully, from head to toe. He scrubbed every inch of your body and washed your face. He let out the water, and while it drained took you to the sink to brush your teeth. You had been wanting desperately to do just this for longer than you cared to admit, but had been unable to.

Steve turned the shower on and prompted you back in, this time running your hair under so he could shampoo it. By now, the boys had watched and even helped with your hair routine on several occasions. Bucky was actually pretty good at braids and twists. During his time in Wakanda, the kids had a habit of playing with and braiding his hair, and in time they taught him a few things.

While you normally liked to do your hair yourself, it had been weeks and Steve’s firm pressure massaging your scalp felt so good. He shampooed and deep conditioned your hair. The room was full of steam by the time he stopped the shower and dried you off. He lotioned your body and wrapped you back in the towel. He picked you up with one arm while the other grabbed your basket of hair supplies. When you got back to your room, it was also sparking clean. The trash and dishes were gone, the floor was clear and the sheets had been changed.

Steve placed you on the bed and got you dressed. Bucky came and did your hair, gently combing through it with leave-in conditioner before braiding it. Nothing too intricate, just a few simple braids to keep your hair from getting tangled as it dried. You fell asleep again as he worked—his fingers were so deft and gentle.

You woke up to Bucky’s voice. You felt like a new person. It certainly wasn’t a cure-all, but waking up to a clean body in clean clothes on clean sheets in a clean room did wonders for your outlook on life. The state of your room often mirrored the state of your life. If your room was a mess it was because you felt like a mess, but the reverse was also true. The messier your room got, the worse you felt—a vicious cycle that had been shattered in a few hours by your boyfriends.

Bucky was asking you if you were hungry and you nodded. Your appetite always got weird at times like this, but you figured you should probably try to eat something.

Bucky kept his hold on you, picking you up and walking towards your bedroom door.

“I’m pretty sure when I was a baby I wasn’t this looked after,” you said. Bucky smiled at you, leading you into your living room.

Of course the rest of your apartment had been deep cleaned, and Steve had gotten food. Burgers and fries, thai food, veggie pizza—your favorite things from all your favorite places.

“I wasn't sure what you were in the mood for. If you want something else just tell me and I’ll get it,” Steve said anxiously, as if you had the capacity to be anything but grateful to him right now.

You got a little bit of everything to be polite and sat on the couch between the boys, watching Bob’s Burgers and trying not to think too hard about the current situation. You were all pretending like things were normal. The boys forced out laughs at all the jokes as they finished their meals.

You hadn’t gotten much food, but you still struggled to finish it. Your stomach, like your brain, had a mind of its own these days. You gave up after a few bites, putting your plate down, but then you had nothing to do with your hands. You considered picking the plate back up, forcing yourself to eat a little more, but you didn’t want to push your stomach, give it reason to rebel and cause you even more problems. You felt like you owed the boys an explanation, an apology. When they got back from a mission, especially an intense one, they needed you to baby them, and not the other way around.

“Boys, I’m sorry—”

Bucky turned off the TV and turned to look at you. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

“I’m sorry that you have to deal with this.”

“Amy, stop it,” Steve said.

“Seriously,” you said. “You shouldn’t have to—”

“We want to,” Bucky said.

“You don’t understand,” you said in a pained whisper.

“I do understand. More than you know. Steve and I both do.”

“We’ve both had bad weeks, hell, bad years. I’m sorry we had to leave you when you needed us, but we should be working a lot less now,” Steve said.

“Not because of me, right? I promise I can be left alone for a few weeks.”

“We’re going to be working less for a lot of reasons. And we’ll get to spend more time with you.”

You scoffed and gestured at yourself and the surroundings. “Lucky you.”

They just looked at you.

“I’ve always taken care of myself,” you started to explain.

Bucky nodded. They were both listening.

“I’ve always taken care of myself and looked after my friends and my family. I’ve always done what I was supposed to do, and if I broke down, I did so in private. I prefer it that way. I don’t want y’all to see me like this. Especially when you’re coming home from a long mission and I’m supposed to be taking care of you. This is the last thing I wanted for you two. And I am so—” You stopped yourself, but they just continued to listen. You stared ahead at your recently-cleaned coffee table, focused on your mostly-full plate rather than looking at them.

You finally whispered, “I’m so embarrassed. And ashamed. This is me at my worst. And this is my personal burden to bear. Not yours. I don’t want you thinking that I can’t take care of myself or that I’m a total slob or lazy or totally disgusting and useless and the worst girlfriend ever, which you would be totally justified—”

“Totally NOT justified!” Steve interjected. “You can’t actually...do you actually mean that stuff?”

“I get that you want to make me feel better, but you can’t pretend like I’m not a complete disaster. And when we first started dating, I thought…I thought that things would get better for me. Even after the whole library incident I was fine. I thought that I was finally free. And now it’s worse than ever.”

“Meaning?”

You shook your head.

“Meaning?” he repeated.

“I don’t know if I’m gonna win this one,” you said even quieter, practically mouthing the words you were terrified of.

“You will, baby. You will. And we’ll be right here by your side. We won’t leave you again, ok? We’ll always be here.”

A few tears escaped and he just hugged you tighter.

“I really really didn’t want to burden you two with this.”

“It’s not a burden.”

“It hasn’t been a burden because I’ve been shielding you from it as long as I could. You saw what a disaster this place was today? That doesn’t happen often, but it happens. I’m not even a functional adult! I don’t want you seeing me like this, feeling like you have to take care of me all the time. Trust me, it gets old. I don’t even know how we’ll ever—” Live together. That’s a pipe dream now anyway.

You cut yourself off, realized you were maybe thinking too far ahead, especially after what they had seen these past few hours. You wouldn’t blame them if they wanted to cut and run. Might even thank them for allowing you to suffer alone in silence again, away from prying eyes and invasive questions, safe from the total vulnerability they sought.

“Ever what?”

“Nothing.”

“Ever what?”

“What if it’s always like this?”

“It won’t always be like this.”

“No. Bucky. What if I’m always like this? This is going to get old.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Bucky, it’s even gotten old for me. I promise you that if I make a habit of this…”

“What?”

“You know what. You don’t want to do this for the rest of your life, and I don’t blame you. I don’t want to do this for the rest of my life. I can’t do this. I’m just so tired.”

“You should have called us when you started feeling this way. Or your therapist. Or a friend. Someone.”

You saw your chance. An opening in the conversation to steer yourself away from the really hard stuff, maybe give yourself some space, some time to make a game plan.

“I know. And I’ll make sure to keep you two updated over the next couple of days.”

They looked at each other.

“What do you mean?” Steve asked.

“I won’t put on Do Not Disturb. I’ll pick up your calls.”

“But...we’re not going anywhere?”

“You’re going home, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely not!” Steve said.

“I promise I’ll be fine. You two deserve a good night’s sleep.”

“I’ll sleep better next to you,” Bucky said.

You loved them, but you desperately wanted to retreat. They had seen too much already.

“I’m feeling a lot better, really.”

“There’s no way you think this will work.”

“Had to give it a shot, didn’t I?”

“Why are you pushing us away?”

“The only thing worse than feeling like this is having to watch you two bear witness to it.”

“Why? Why won’t you let us support you? Why don’t you want us here?”

“This isn’t about you.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay. Just don’t take it personal. I love you. I want to protect you. From everything. Including me. I’m a wreck. I fall apart. But I patch myself up. Put myself back together every time. It’s really bad this time, but I always find my way back. I just want some space and some time to put myself back together and then I can come back to you, good as new. “

“You no longer have to carry those things alone. We love all of you just like you love all of us. And, if you ever want to share them, I’m happy to experience more of your emotions. “

“Yeah, but once we open that door, there’s no going back. If we open this door, and ignore all the alarm bells in my head, I think we’ll find that it was shut for a reason. I don’t want you to feel responsible for fixing this. I want you to have an out, should you want it, and we can’t have a clean break if I learn to depend on you. I want you to feel like you always have an option. Like you don’t have to be with me.”

“Now I know how you felt after the incident at the library. You keep offering a breakup as an option and I’m wondering if you really want that.”

“I suppose I can see your side now too. I don’t want that. I would never want that. But I also want what’s best for you. And I wouldn’t blame you if you couldn’t do this anymore.”

“Wow. We really were jerks.”

You looked at him with a puzzled expression, waiting for him to explain what he meant.

“I can only imagine how scared and hurt you felt after you were attacked, and to feel like you’re being pushed away on top of that...I’m so sorry.”

“I already forgave you.”

“Yeah, but now I have an idea of how it actually felt. And it’s not good.”

“Well, we’re past that now.”

“Are we? Because I thought that we were going to start being more open and honest with each other.”

“We are. I am. I’m just not accustomed...I didn’t think anyone would wanna see this side.”

“You don’t bat an eye when I call you at 3 am because of a bad dream and you're embarrassed because what? Because your apartment wasn't clean one time?” Bucky said.

You were quiet.

“You keep acting like you’re waiting for the clock to strike midnight and the carriage to turn back into a pumpkin and footmen into mice. But guess what? The glass slipper still fits you. I found my princess, and we will live happily ever after. End of story.”

“Yeah, well I’m no Cinderella. At least she could keep a house clean,” you grumbled.

“If I wanted someone in my life expressly for their cleaning abilities, I’d hire a maid,” Steve sassed.

“Yeah but what if this happens again? You’ll get tired of cleaning up after me.”

“No, we won’t,” Bucky sighed. ”And to prove it to you, you’re never gonna do a single dish or a single load of laundry for the rest of your life.”

“Bucky—”

“No, he’s right,” Steve said. “It’s a ridiculous fear, but there's an easy solution: we’ll handle it. Cooking, cleaning—all of it. Starting now and until forever. Problem solved.”

You rolled your eyes. “Y’all are not going to do that.”

They looked offended.

“I’m going to come by every day and make sure everything is taken care of around here,” Steve said.

“I don’t know if that’s possible or sustainable. Besides, what am I gonna tell Liv? ‘Oh, don’t mind my dishes in the sink, my boyfriends will be by later to do them’?”

“You could always…temporarily—or, not necessarily temporarily—and it depends on what you think, Steve, of course, but…” Bucky was never this tongue-tied. You had no idea what he was gonna say. He took a breath. “I would be happy for you to move in with me for as long as you want.”

“You want me to move in with you so that I don’t have to do any of my own cleaning?”

“Not just that. I know you’re having a hard time, and having to worry about cooking or doing your hair or the dishes, especially once Liv is back, will be stressful for you. You’ve got enough on your mind right now. Plus, you know, I love you and I love being around you and I won’t have to call you at 3am because you’ll already be there. So there are some selfish reasons in there, too. You’ll actually be doing me a favor.”

You looked at him, trying to evaluate whether or not it would be too much for him, if whatever human body pillow benefits he got out of sleeping next to you were worth all the costs of living with someone as lazy and useless as yourself.

“Don’t you dare think that you’re not worth it,” Steve said suddenly, startling you. “I went through enough of that with this one.” He jerked a thumb in Bucky’s direction. “I think Bucky has the right idea. I know how much you love the plants at his place. Stay with him—and me—take a little time off work, meet with your therapist, and we’ll take it from there.”

“When’s your next appointment with Dr. Adeyemi?”

“In a week. She’s had a series of conferences so we haven’t had an appointment since you’ve been gone.”

“It’s been a long time since your last session. Is there anyone else you can see sooner?”

“Even if there was, I don’t want to see anyone else. She’s the only therapist I’ve had that I actually really like.”

Bucky sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Are you gonna...be okay? Until then?”

“I guess I’ll have to be, won’t I?”

“Do you want to stay here tonight or go to mine?” Bucky asked.

You shrugged. “Either one.”

“Let’s go to my place. I’ll pack you a bag.”

You nodded weakly. Normally you would’ve protested and insisted on packing it yourself, but you felt tired, defeated. You had failed your lifelong mission to keep anyone from seeing this side of you.

Steve pulled out his phone. “Gotta get a car.”

You were puzzled.

“Jet dropped us on the roof,” he explained.

“The roof?”

“We didn’t want to take the time to go all the way to the tower and drive back here. We didn’t even know if...we couldn’t get in contact with you. We just wanted to make sure that you were alright.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were coming back today. Regardless, I definitely should’ve let my friends know that I was okay. I just...couldn’t. I don’t know…”

“No need to apologize. We’re just glad that you’re OK.”

You climbed into his lap and rested your head against his chest. “So tired, Stevie.”

He stroked your back. “I know, I know,” he said soothingly.

“Steve, I promised you a functional girlfriend and I can’t deliver.”

“Don’t worry about that right now.”

Maybe not right now, sure. But when should I start worrying? When is it gonna get old for him?

You didn’t have the answers to those questions, so you just focused on the sensation of his warm hands soothingly rubbing your back.

…

You woke up between your boyfriends in Bucky’s bed, and for a moment you forgot. Forgot that you weren’t here under normal circumstances. But it quickly came back. You tried to go back to sleep, cut those thoughts off, but you were wide awake. You glanced at the clock on the nightstand. 2:17 am. You tried (and failed) to climb out of bed without waking anyone.

“Where ya goin’?” Bucky mumbled sleepily.

“Can’t sleep. I was just gonna go into the living room.”

“Want some company?”

Your first instinct was to tell him no, that he didn’t have to. But then you remembered that they had asked for this, had asked for you to let them in and lean on them. He had offered, after all.

“Sure.”

To your surprise, he scooped both you and Steve up into his arms and took you to the living room. You loved how huge his couch was: there was plenty of room for all of you. Steve slept on soundly, stretching out over you and Bucky’s laps and curling into you. Alpine was looking at you curiously from her perch on her cat tree. She wasn’t used to you three invading her domain in the middle of the night. Great, now I’m inconveniencing the cat, too.

“Housewives?” Bucky asked as he turned on the TV.

“I have been meaning to do a rewatch of Jersey.”

And so you settled in to watch Real Housewives of New Jersey, choosing not to think about your fears, which lurked in the shadows, threatening to come snatch you at any moment. You chose to believe that, at least for tonight, Bucky would protect you from anything that went bump in the night, even your own thoughts. You chose not to think about tomorrow, or even later tonight. You chose to just watch the show.

After the first episode, you realized that you were hungry. Normally you wouldn’t indulge in your middle-of-the-night cravings, but tonight was different. Tonight you were just focusing on the now. And in the now you wanted food.

“I’m really craving a quesadilla. Do you want a quesadilla?”

Bucky laughed and nodded. You extricated yourselves from Steve, who whined in his sleep, but you were able to placate him with a throw pillow to wrap his arms around. Bucky sat you down on the counter and gave you a kiss on the top of your forehead, then between your eyebrows, then your nose, then your chin, and lastly your lips. Then he got to cooking.

The heavenly smell of toasted tortillas and melted cheese managed to wake Steve from his log-like slumber. He sat up and blearily rubbed at his eyes.

“Guys?”

“Yeah.”

“What smells so good? And how did I get on the couch?”

“Well, we couldn’t sleep but we didn’t want to leave you in bed alone,” Bucky explained.

“That’s…really sweet. Thank you.”

“‘Course, baby,” Bucky said, sending Steve a small smile.

Steve got up and stretched and then shuffled into the kitchen. He stepped between your legs and hugged you, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on your shoulder. He still wasn’t fully awake yet.

“Make me one too,” he murmured.

“You got it,” Bucky said.

It wasn’t long before you were back on the couch with your late-night snack. You had one quesadilla and they had five each. Bucky and Steve had engaged in a quick show down about the best salsa: Bucky had an extensive selection and swore by fresh pineapple salsa, while Steve preferred chunky mild salsa. Steve also liked an obscene amount of cheese on his.

So you sat and you ate and you tried not to think about anything that didn’t exist in the current moment. You watched a few episodes before you started to feel tired again, although you weren’t exactly sleepy. It was a strange feeling where you felt like your body desperately needed sleep, but for some reason your mind didn’t want to stop doing what it was doing, didn’t want to stop the show, get up from the couch, and go back to bed. Maybe because it just felt like so much work to go to bed. Especially since proper dental hygiene would probably recommend mustering up the energy to brush your teeth again. Ugh.

You didn’t realize you had sighed out loud until they asked what was wrong. Maybe you really were tired because you answered completely honestly:

“I’m ready to go back to bed but I don’t have the energy to get up, brush my teeth, and get back in bed.”

And just like that, five minutes later they had you back in bed, having done all the heavy lifting for you. You felt bad for probably messing up their sleep schedules, and voiced as much, but they just shushed you and rubbed your back until you fell back asleep.

…

When you woke up later that morning, both of your boyfriends were still in bed with you—a rare occurrence. Steve was spooning you with one of his arms completely wrapped around the front of your body, holding you close to him. You lightly stroked the back of his hand with your fingertips. He kissed your neck, your jaw, your cheek, your temple. You laid your hand over his and intertwined your fingers.

Bucky was sleeping on his side facing you, as always. He was close, but you wanted him closer. So much had been going on with you these past few weeks that you hadn’t gotten the chance to think about how much you had missed them. With your free hand, you grabbed the front of Bucky’s shirt and pulled him closer so that you could rest your forehead against his.

“Good morning,” he said in his gravely morning voice. A voice you were just realizing that you had desperately missed. The realization that you hadn’t heard his voice in almost a month suddenly hit you. The unfelt grief of being so cruelly and suddenly separated from the loves of your life was tempered by the sweet reality that they were here with you now.

“Morning,” you whispered softly, stroking his face.

“I missed waking up to that face,” Bucky smiled. It was like he read your mind.

“Me too,” Steve said. “I love you so much.”

“Three weeks without so much as a text from either of you. I’m almost glad my brain’s been on the fritz. Depressive episodes are a great distraction when your boyfriends are out of town.”

“I wish we could have been here for you. Or at least gotten back sooner,” Steve said.

“Trust me—you didn’t miss anything fun or exciting.”

“Did you know when we left that it would get…”

“This bad?”

Steve nodded.

“Well, it’s never been this bad. I’ve been close. But this is definitely the worst. Which is really scary. I knew that I wasn’t in a good place and that it wasn’t headed in a good direction. I was thinking about telling you at lunch but then we didn’t have lunch and even if we did I probably would’ve chickened out anyway.”

“I knew something was wrong when we left. It killed me to leave you that day. That mission had the worst timing ever and everything in me was yearning to stay, but we had such a limited window to strike and finally get rid of those nazi bastards for good,” Bucky said.

Nazis? “Wait...HYDRA? Gone? For good?”

“Well, the ‘for good’ part remains to be proven, but we hit them hard. Targeted attacks at every level of operations, most of their members captured, including all of their leadership. Access to all their secure files and databases. We got rid of every single base of operations, safe house, offshore account. We sent memos to all international intelligence agencies with lists of all of their government members that had been installed by HYDRA. They have a week to deal with it internally before that list gets published,” Steve said.

“Wow...That’s the most you’ve ever told me about a mission. In fact, I normally don’t know where you’re going or what you’re doing at all. And to learn that you spent the last three weeks taking down HYDRA?! That's big. Huge.”

“Even if a few rats managed to escape the sinking ship and make it to shore, they’d be scattered, isolated, with no resources or leadership and a lifelong target on their back. The odds of them rebuilding are slim, and even if they did, it would be decades before they were capable of being a threat. Meaning that from now on, we will be able to focus on us, without always looking over our shoulders worrying that they’re plotting to ruin our lives.”

“I didn’t realize that HYDRA was weighing so heavily on you guys. I’m so glad they’re gone.”

You were all quiet for a moment, letting your new, HYDRA-free reality sink in.

“I think I’m done with missions. I’m tired of being told where to be and when. I don’t ever want to have to leave your side like that again. And before you start blaming yourself, I’ve been feeling this way for a while, like work just gets in the way of me living my life the way I want to live it. I did the hero stuff at first because I felt like I had to. Like I owed a debt, had to make up for my past. But none of that was my fault, and I have nothing to atone for.”

You and Steve quickly exchanged excited looks. You weren’t sure this day would ever come.

“I haven’t done anything wrong. I’ve never sought to hurt anyone. Those were HYDRA’s crimes. I don’t have to pay for them. And now hopefully HYDRA is done hurting people for good. So if I ever do go on a mission again, it will be because I want to help people, save them. Not because I feel like I owe a debt.”

“That’s amazing,” you said.

“Yeah. I never thought I’d hear you say those words. I always hoped, but...I never knew if you’d ever actually believe that,” Steve got a little emotional. “I’m so excited for our future, and at least for the time being, I’m not taking any missions either. Just stuff in New York if the team needs us.”

“And only if they really need us,” Bucky amended.

Steve nodded. “I know I’m more reluctant to put down the shield, but it’s because I want the world to be safe for you, to be good for you. And I’m glad that HYDRA’s gone, I am. But part of me feels like we shouldn’t have left you when you needed us most. That’s twice now that our fears of HYDRA have meant that we weren’t there for you. We lost sight of the true purpose of the mission. Yeah, we did it because we love you and want to keep you safe. But that’s not a substitute for actually being your boyfriends. And I’m sorry.”

You knew he had been raised Catholic, but you hadn’t been expecting the confession.

“Maybe everything happened the way it needed to. Those first few days I actually felt free without y’all and Liv and Dr. Adeyemi around. It was liberating to get some space and privacy to fall apart. It felt like a luxury to be depressed without worrying about worrying anyone. But then I realized how bad it was getting, and that it would probably be best to get some support, but I didn’t know how to ask. I thought I should just do it on my own. But I couldn’t. Not this time. And if I hadn’t been forced to, I probably wouldn’t have opened up to you guys and accepted your help. Even now, I’m fighting the urge to ask to be left alone because I don’t think I’m going to be very fun today. You guys are back safe from a long mission, and I’m so happy you’re back, but I don’t have the energy to do anything exciting today and I don’t know when I will.”

“If you need time alone, I get that. But you’re not obligated to ‘be fun’. We don’t expect you to entertain us while you’re resting. All we want to do is take care of you.”

So you let them. You ate a little breakfast. You watched TV. You napped.

You did the lowest-effort yoga routine you could find to get your body moving. The boys ate lunch but you weren’t hungry. While they ate, you decided to take a really long shower. You put on a shower cap, sat on the bench, and let the warm water rain over you as loud music played. You held yourself and cried. You weren’t sure how long you stayed in there. Once you sat down, you found that you didn’t have the energy to get back up. Standing up would take a lot of energy. So would getting out of the shower and drying off. And then you’d have to put on lotion. God. And then you’d have to get dressed. Ugh.

Should I ask for help? FRIDAY could get the boys for me.

I don’t want to alarm them.

Besides, what am I gonna say? I’m too lazy to get out of the shower?

They’d happily do it.

Yeah, but I don’t want to bother them. I don’t know how much is too much to ask of them.

Aargh! I just want to get out of the damn shower!

“FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Ms. Carlisle?”

“Can you ask Bucky to come in here please?”

“Right away.”

A few moments later, Bucky burst in. He got in the shower fully clothed and knelt in front of you.

“What’s going on?”

“I…” You were at a loss for words. His sudden appearance had shocked you. He had materialized almost instantly and was currently getting soaked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm you.”

“What’s wrong, baby? What do you need?”

You suddenly felt silly.

“I, uh...I want to get out of the shower.”

“FRIDAY, can you turn off the water, please?”

The water stopped. He picked you up and carried you out of the shower. He dried you off and massaged lotion into your skin. He brought you into the bedroom and set you down on the bed. He kissed your forehead.

“Do you want to wear anything in particular?”

You shook your head. “Maybe a big shirt?”

He grabbed his softest long-sleeve t-shirt, your absolute favorite. You smiled.

He smiled back at you. “I thought you would’ve stolen this one by now.” He helped you into the shirt.

“It’s too special. It has to stay here so I know where it is at all times. I think about stealing it every time I’m over here, but there’s something nice about knowing that it will always be here. So if you’re on a mission and I’m missing you, I can come over here, put on this shirt, sleep in your bed.”

“You do that a lot?”

“Oh, yeah I come over here all the time when you’re on a mission. I never thought about asking, sorry. I’m realizing now that I kind of think of y’all apartments as extensions of my own, which maybe I shouldn’t.”

“You should. You definitely should. I’m glad. Whenever I come home and see that you were here, it always makes me happy.”

“You knew?”

“You never make the bed back the exact same way,” he chuckled.

“Yes I do! I take pictures to make sure that I put the pillows back exactly!”

“Not exactly.”

You shared a laugh.

“Hopefully, moving forward, you won’t get as many opportunities to miss us.”

“This is really what you want to do? For yourself, right? Not for me?”

“Yeah. Reading your letter I cried like a baby.” When he saw your face he rushed to assure you, “In a good way! In a good way. I realized that I had been holding a lot of guilt and shame over the Winter Soldier and I think your letter put me in the right headspace to be done with HYDRA and get some closure. You were right: Acceptance. Salvation. Redemption. It all has to come from me. These past few months that we’ve been working on this, I’ve been thinking that this was my chance to do one big, capital “G” Good thing for the world. Something to give me a clean slate. I waited to read your letter. The mission was winding down and in the aftermath, as the dust was settling, I felt lost and empty. I couldn’t believe that we had actually done it. Part of me didn’t think it would work, didn’t think it was possible. I just knew that something would come up and ruin all of our plans. I was kind of waiting on us to fail. It was then that I read your letter. It was like the final puzzle piece. How did you even know that I needed to hear that?”

“We don’t talk too much about the HYDRA stuff. I think that Steve doesn’t want to bring it up and upset you. And we’re both guilty of cutting you off when you want to talk about your guilt. We just rush to assure you that it wasn’t you. I realized that maybe you need a place to just say how you feel.”

“I have that. In therapy.”

“I’m glad. But I decided that I finally wanted to address it. I thought a letter might be easiest. Let me say everything I needed to say at once. And I knew with the way you two had been working that you would probably be due for a long, intense mission soon, probably HYDRA-related. It just felt like the right time.”

“You’re like the most perceptive and thoughtful person in the universe. Seriously. The world is a better place with your soul in it. And I know that you are also struggling with guilt and shame over something that you can’t control. You have always seen me for who I truly am, even when I can’t see that in myself. And I want to remind you that I see the best in you, always. You never get tired of reassuring me, and you never will. So I need to remind you that I will always tell you how amazing you are when you forget. And if you need help getting out of the shower, or getting out of bed I will happily do that. I finally have time to pursue what I want to do, and I want to be with you, whether you understand it or not.”

You spent a moment with his words before deciding to change the subject.

“What are you going to do with all of this free time?”

“I don’t know,” he said as he started to strip off his wet clothes.

“I’m sorry about that,” you said, gesturing towards his sodden appearance.

“Don’t worry about it,” he laughed. “I guess I didn’t need to actually come in the shower to see what you needed. I’ve just been so worried about you.” He closed his mouth suddenly.

“It’s okay,” you said.

He nodded and pulled on a dry shirt. “As for your question, I don’t know. But I have about 70 years of reading to catch up on. Maybe at my local library?” he said with a wink.

“I know you’re trying to be cute, but I want to be clear that I do not approve of you going to a different NYPL branch, including your local one.”

He laughed in surprise.

“I’m serious, James. If you go to some other bitch’s library it’s gonna be an issue.”

“Uh-oh. Am I James when I’m in trouble?”

“I guess. You’ve never been in trouble before.”

“Yeah I have.”

You looked at him in surprise. “You have?”

“You really do forgive and forget, don’t you?”

You nodded. “What did I forget?” He hesitated. “What? I’m not gonna get mad again!”

“Remember when we left in the middle of the night without waking you up?”

You gasped and your eyes opened wide. You had totally forgotten about that! What jerks!

“See! You’re getting riled up again! That’s what I was afraid of!” he laughed, gesturing with his arms in that way that you found endearing.

“I genuinely forgot about that. But you learned your lesson, didn’t you?”

He nodded solemnly. “Yes, and now that I have felt your wrath, I will be sure to only visit your library.”

You laughed. “Wrath?”

“You weren’t happy.”

“Yeah, but you’ve never seen my wrath.”

His eyebrows raised.

“Are you scared?” you asked.

“A little,” he conceded.

“Good.” He looked at you with surprise. “Listen, a little fear in a man’s heart is healthy,” you explained.

“I hadn’t heard that one.”

“It’s true. Ask any doctor.”

“Really? Because I know several doctors, and none of them have mentioned that.”

“Blame it on the patriarchy?”

He laughed, nodding. “You’re probably right.”

“I’m always right.”

He smiled at you.

“Will you let me make you something to eat?”

“I could be convinced.”

He put his hands on your hips and helped you off the bed.

He stopped you before leaving. “One last question.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you also stay at Steve’s apartment when we’re gone?”

You shook your head and leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, “Don’t tell him.”

He mimed locking his mouth up and throwing away the key.

When you walked into the living room, Steve looked up from the couch. “Everything ok?”

“Yeah. I was just having trouble mustering up the energy to get out of the shower and my knight with shining arm swooped in to save me.”

“Knight with shining arm, I like that,” Bucky said.

Steve was sitting on the floor in front of the couch. You sat next to him and leaned your head on his shoulder.

You didn’t realize that you had fallen asleep until you were woken by your phone’s ringtone.

Dr. Adeyemi’s office? That’s strange.

You answered the phone. Apparently, the rest of Dr. Adeyemi’s conference had been canceled and she had an opening the next day. You took it. You sighed with relief. You hadn’t wanted to alarm the boys when there was nothing they could do about it, but you were worried about having to wait a week for therapy. A part of you was nervous, though. You had never been this bad before. You felt like you were failing. You didn’t want your therapist to be disappointed by your lack of progress.

At the same time, Steve and Bucky made you feel like maybe things weren’t so catastrophic. You had always been petrified of anyone knowing how bad you really felt, including Dr. Adeyemi. Steve and Bucky had seen your worst and hadn’t flinched. Bucky didn’t laugh or scoff or complain when you needed help out of the shower. Their complete understanding validated your mental illness in a way you’d never experienced before. You weren’t lazy. You weren’t making it up. You were sick. And, importantly, you weren’t worthless because of it. You could be a depressed blob and you were still loveable. Still worthy of care and gentle treatment.

You had a lot of complicated feelings to work through and untangle, and you looked forward to the opportunity to do just that.

…

After your appointment the next day, you didn’t want to go straight back to the Tower. You asked the driver to drive around a little. You would’ve gone for a short walk if it wasn’t so freaking cold. You drove around, listening to music and looking out the window until you felt like you’d come back to center.

When you got back to Bucky’s, you were instantly hit with how amazing it smelled. The sweet aroma reminded you of when your mom made brownie bread pudding.

“What is that heavenly smell?”

Bucky gestured to the baking pan on the kitchen counter. “Chocolate babka. One of my favorites growing up. Do you want to try it?”

You nodded so vigorously that he and Steve started laughing. What could you say? Spending an hour bawling your eyes out always got you in the mood for chocolate. The inside looked almost like a cross between a croissant and a marble cake and it was delicious.

“I also made matzo ball soup,” he said, gesturing to the pot on the stove.

“Oh my God. Forget the SSRIs. That soup is going to flood my body with serotonin.”

You shared a small laugh. You were happy to see them. You were happy to see the food. But for some reason the joy didn’t feel like it could quite reach your soul. Perhaps you were just exhausted. It had been an emotionally draining session today.

Dr. Adeyemi thought it was good that you were taking some time off of work. You usually didn’t meet so often, but you had scheduled two appointments for next week. She had given you homework: try to relax for once in your life and actually take care of your needs. Had she met you? You weren’t even sure what that looked like. And you felt pressure to be interesting. You didn’t want to just be a couch potato for the boys for a whole week. You wanted to retreat, just find a nice cave and hide out there until you could be normal again. Normal. Whatever that meant.

For today, though, you just wanted to eat as much soup and bread as your body could physically hold and watch outrageous television. The time had come to introduce the boys to the ridiculous reality TV of the 2000s, starting with Flavor of Love.

It had been a while since you watched it, and when you got to season 2, the names he gave the girls were especially entertaining. When it was announced that one girl’s alter ego for the show was Buckeey because she “came out buckin’,” you fell over each other laughing. Steve kept replaying it because you couldn’t believe it. He vowed to say “You look like a buckaroo, baby,” to Bucky every day. You hated to pile on, but you announced that you were going to be changing the spelling of his name in your phone. A few minutes later, a different girl was named Buckwild and it set off another round of giggles.

“Well we need to come up with nicknames for you two,” Bucky said.

“Steve can be Melonz because of his tits,” you offered.

You all laughed.

“Hey. Yours are way bigger than mine!” he protested.

“Well, your name has to be about either your tits or your ass because both are juicy and the nickname legally has to be dehumanizing.”

Bucky reached over to squeeze Steve’s pec. “How about Squeez? Because you’re my main squeeze and I want to squeeze you.”

It was a few minutes before you had regained your breath from laughing. It felt like you hadn’t laughed that hard in forever. Hell, if asked that morning, you wouldn’t have been sure you’d ever laugh that hard again. And yet here you were, clutching your sides and wiping away tears of joy. It felt good.

As you watched, you got the opportunity to appreciate how much beauty standards had changed. “Wow, I miss early 2000s standards of ass. I would’ve been killing it back then!”

“You’re killing it now!” Bucky said.

“In fact, Imma call you Thangin bc your body bangin’ and them thangs thangin’!” Steve said.

You laughed in shock. “Where the hell did you learn that phrase?”

“Twitter! Where else?”

“Am I going to have to start monitoring your online activity?”

“The internet has been so crucial to helping me adjust to this century. And I go on Twitter more now that I’m dating you so I at least have some idea of what’s going on in pop culture. That way you don’t have to explain every single reference to me.”

Aww. That was actually really sweet. You didn’t mind explaining references to him, but jokes tended to be funnier the first time around. And obviously his Twitter education was really working, to the point he could make his own references.

Maybe it was all the laughing, maybe it was the magic matzah ball soup, but when bedtime rolled around you were actually starting to feel like yourself again. You were wary of being too hopeful, lest your optimism scare away the fragile equilibrium you had found.

…

You slept through the night, which you cautiously admitted to yourself could potentially be a good sign. As the three of you brushed your teeth in the bathroom together, you felt so…domestic. Spending the rest of your lives together was starting to feel like a real possibility. That excited and scared you. You wanted this, but you weren’t sure if you could have it.

You and Steve cuddled on the living room couch while Bucky worked on breakfast: crispy potatoes, bacon, and omelettes. He had every filling imaginable and made yours first. When it was time to make Steve’s, he yelled, “Yo, Squeez! What do you want in your omelette?”

The laughter that ensued gave you your morning hit of dopamine.

You really wished you could go outside for a walk, but you didn’t feel like bundling up in a bunch of layers. Lucky for you, the Avengers had a virtual reality treadmill in one of the workout rooms. You were shocked by how realistic it was. The belt of the treadmill even had changing textures so it really felt like you were walking on a trail by the stream. It was wide enough that your boyfriends could walk beside you.

“What is even the purpose of this?” you asked. It was absolutely perfect for simulating a leisurely walk with your loves, down to feeling the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy. But you couldn’t imagine that this scenario was necessary for superhero training.

“It’s so that we can train together in different environments, see if we can keep pace with one another in changing and unpredictable terrain. There’s an arctic setting that actually mimics icy wind and slick ice and a desert setting with intense heat that replicates the feeling of running up and down sand dunes.”

“Geez. Avenger training seems intense. And I thought my lessons with Nat were hard.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you…Do you still…Now that Hydra’s gone…?”

“Do I still want to train with her?”

Steve nodded.

“I mean, aren’t there like a thousand other villains that could try to kidnap me?”

They both tensed up.

“I know you guys are eager to share our relationship with the world, I know you want to show off your girlfriend, but won’t that make me an even bigger target?”

“Is that the real reason why you don’t want to go public?”

“No, I still think that everyone who needs to know about us already does. I don’t want to open myself up to the fans that think they have a chance with you because they believe you’re single. I don’t want to get hate because of our relationship structure or my identity. I just feel like it adds a lot of unnecessary complications—”

“But don’t you want those ‘fans’ to know that they don’t have a chance? That we aren’t single?”

“I don’t care what they know. Even if they knew you had a girlfriend, they would still go after you. All that really matters is that I trust the two of you. Hell, you two could have whole families stashed somewhere halfway across the world and that’s where you’ve really been going on ‘missions’. I wouldn’t have a clue. I just have to trust you.”

“How could you even think that?” Bucky asked.

“I don’t think that, I’m just saying—”

“But that’s the perfect reason to go public,” Steve said, “so that you know that you’re the only woman in the world for us. I want the world to know that.”

“Yeah, well, let’s just give it a few days and see if you feel the same way.”

Bucky pressed the button to stop the treadmill. You were suddenly back in the workout room, back in reality. It was a few moments before he spoke, and when he did, his voice was low, yet deliberate.

“If you trust me, then know this: I will always keep you safe and I will always love you. The only family I’ve got is right here in this room. I am going to marry you. And the second you let me tell the world about us, I am going to shout it from the rooftops until my last breath. Don’t believe me? I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

You were shocked by the force in his words. You weren’t sure what to say. You weren’t trying to upset him.

After a while, it was Steve who finally said, “Bucky, why don’t you go back to yours, start cooking?” He turned to you. “I’ve got some of your favorite ice cream cones at my place.” You couldn’t say no to ice cream.

Bucky nodded and turned to leave.

“Bucky, wait,” you said. He walked over to you and picked you up, held you in his arms. “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“You don’t have to be sorry. That’s the point. I’m sorry.”

“What are you so upset about?”

“I’m upset that you still don’t know how much I love you, no matter what I say. I’m mad that I’m the happiest I’ve ever been and I can’t tell every single person I meet. And I’m the most mad that the circumstances of my life make yours more dangerous.”

“Yeah, but the circumstances of your life are kinda the only reason that you even met me. I know you didn’t choose to be a superhero, but otherwise you would’ve been trapped in your own time. And as I’ve said since we first started dating, I’m willing to take my chances with bad guys if it means I get to be with you.”

He sighed. “HYDRA’s gone. I guess I just thought there wouldn’t be any more bad guys.”

“Hero or not, there are always bad guys. You could defeat every villain on the planet and I could still get mugged on the street corner. But now I have a say in what happens to me. I have the ability to fight back, and that is so powerful, regardless of my boyfriends’ profession.”

He nodded. You could tell he still wasn’t happy, but it was your reality. He kissed you on the forehead and set you down gently. He held your hand until you made it back to the hallway he and Steve shared.

Once at Steve’s, he got out all the stuff you needed for your ice cream cone. After you had taken him to Coldstone, he insisted on preparing his ice cream at home the same way. He made himself strawberry ice cream with peanut butter and brownies. You had a combination of chocolate and coffee ice creams with Oreos and Twix mixed in. You loved the light crispness of a waffle cone while Steve preferred the hard crunch of sugar cones. Although both of you agreed that cake cones were best with soft serve.

As you enjoyed the sweet treats, Steve talked about how he wanted to have his own ice cream parlor in your future home, complete with soft serve machines and a dipping cabinet for tubs of homemade ice cream.

“And I bet you’d make amazing affogatos with your homemade ice cream.”

He actually groaned with pleasure at the idea and it made you laugh. You made a mental note to order him one of those machines you’d seen online that can turn anything into ice cream. It would make a great birthday gift, but the problem with loving someone so much is that you don’t want to wait for their birthday to buy them something that will make them smile. You’d have to run it by Bucky, see what he thought.

“I’ll have to start making some gelatos for Bucky to enjoy as well. We always used to go get ice cream together and now he’s too good for it,” he grumbled.

You both laughed. Bucky really was bougie.

“I’m sure he would fall in love with your homemade ice cream though,” you assured him.

“You’re right,” Steve said, wheels turning, “I’m going to make ice cream so good that he forgets about stupid gelato!”

As Steve went down the rabbit hole of ice cream vs. gelato, you excused yourself to go to his room. It was your first real moment of alone time since they’d gotten back. Normally, you would have relished it. You thought back to when you’d been attacked and requested alone time. Back then it seemed to refresh you. But somehow it didn’t feel quite right anymore. You kinda just wanted to cuddle. You weren’t sure how to ask, or if you even should ask, and all of the indecision was exhausting you. You settled for laying down on the floor.

You were just so tired of always fighting yourself. You just wanted things to be easy. You felt like you didn’t know the right way to think or to feel about things. Maybe you never would. The thought was crushing. Sometimes the weight of an uncertain future with regards to your mental health would bear down on you until you were crushed under the weight. Like summers in Georgia where the oppressive heat and humidity suffocated you into submission and turned you into an AC-seeking zombie. The problem with depression is that there is no air conditioning equivalent. No cool relief, no promise that at the end of a long, hot swim through the parking lot, you’d be greeted by the chilling embrace of indoor air conditioning. No, not even antidepressants or therapy or an amazing life could save you from feeling this way sometimes. And it sucked. You felt restless and angry but too bone-tired to do anything about it.

You didn’t hear Steve approaching, so you were a little startled when he knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

“Hey baby, I just wanted to…” he trailed off when he saw that you were on the floor, “...check on you…”

You shrugged.

“Can I join you?”

You nodded.

So he laid on the floor right next you, facing you. No one needed to say anything. Steve’s presence meant that you no longer had to be alone with your thoughts. You looked into his eyes. They were absolutely beautiful. Maybe one day you’d have babies with those eyes.

You weren’t sure when you closed your own eyes and fell asleep, but you woke up in Steve’s bed. You were snuggled against his chest as he scrolled on his phone. When he noticed you were awake, he kissed the top of your head.

“I think we need to take a trip to Italy.”

“Hmm?”

“I have to try authentic gelato if I’m going to beat it. Besides, you and Bucky already went without me,” he pouted.

“The three of us weren’t dating yet.”

“We probably should’ve known from the beginning that this is where we’d end up, though.”

“I don’t know that I could’ve seen it coming.”

“It feels so natural.”

“It does. But that doesn’t mean that I expected it to. I didn’t even know it was a possibility. I just knew that I couldn’t choose, and I didn’t want to.”

“Hmm…”

“What?”

“You’ve always said that you couldn’t choose, but not that you didn’t want to.”

“If I’m being honest, looking back on it, I didn’t really try that hard to compare you two because I knew it didn’t matter. I felt pressured to make a choice, but I knew that I wouldn’t be able to. I’m just glad you two came up with the idea.”

“Well I’m just glad you were willing to give us a chance. Most people probably would’ve run the other way.”

“I had nothing to lose,” you said simply before gesturing at him, “and everything to gain.”

He kissed you, softly. It was nice. His phone buzzed.

“Dinner’s ready.”

You walked hand in hand across the hallway, and the second Bucky’s door opened you were hit with a wave of aromas that made you feel like you were home. No matter how wonky your appetite got, you always had room for mac and cheese. And where the hell did Bucky learn to make black-eyed peas and collard greens?

“Your mom helped me over the phone,” he explained. “I wanted to make your favorites.”

You were stunned. He had prepared a spread that would put any Southern woman to shame. Your very own Mason-Dixon Martha Stewart. As you fixed yourself a plate, you couldn’t help tasting everything—it just looked so good, and it tasted even better. You were shocked to say the least. He had nailed everything. You were so excited to sit down to eat, but you were surprised when Bucky pulled you onto his lap.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he murmured. “I just need you to know how important you are to me.”

“Bucky. I know.” You gestured at the love letter he’d written with his food.

“Okay, so can you stop talking about the future like there’s a question mark there?”

“I…”

“Maybe we should just eat dinner,” Steve said. “This fried chicken is amazing.”

It was amazing, and you wanted to eat it while it was hot, but you also felt like they probably needed to hear this.

“The question mark isn’t about you. It’s about me. I know that you two would be happy to be with me even if I struggle like this forever, but I don’t want that for any of us. And I don’t think you understand that I feel a lot more emotions than you experience. My emotions have always threatened to overwhelm me. I try to shove them in a box, keep everyone safe from them. Slowly I’ve learned to trust my therapist, allow her to peek into that box from time to time, but no one else.

I love my parents, and I know that they were trying to help me, but any time I was angry or sad or scared, I was simply told not to be. I had all these big emotions that I didn’t know what to do with. I wasn’t allowed to feel, at least not publicly. I’ve burrowed so far deep inside myself that I can’t even see the light anymore. And it’s hard to trust that I’m loved fully when I’ve never been comfortable being known fully. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy: I don’t feel worthy of love because the people who love me don’t know all of me. How can you say you love me if you haven’t experienced my full range of emotions? When you haven’t experienced my true wrath?

Or my true love. It’s not all bad. It’s actually mostly good. I knew pretty early on that I loved you two, but I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to be too much too soon. And I have felt such joy with you, but I pushed it down until it became something less mortifying, like happiness. I have such high hopes for our future, but I temper them with doubt. I don’t want to overwhelm you with the depth of my feelings. I guess I’m just afraid that y’all don’t know what you’re getting yourselves into.”

You weren’t sure what you were gonna say when you started talking, but by the end you felt like you’d come to the truth. Bucky hugged you tighter. When he spoke, his voice was low and steady: “I know exactly what I’m getting myself into. And I couldn’t be more grateful for your heart and your mind and your soul. For you in your entirety. The more I know you, the more I love you.”

You hadn’t realized you were tearing up until the tear rolled down your cheek. Steve got up and wiped it away.

“You’re the bravest person I know,” Steve said.

You rolled your eyes.

“Seriously. I was so closed off for so many years when I came out of the ice. I didn’t want to let anyone in. I didn’t think anyone could understand me, so I didn’t even want to try. You let us in, and I'm really proud of you. I don’t think you understand how big a deal it is that you have let us help you and take care of you. I know it doesn’t come naturally to you to let someone else handle everything, but I’m hoping we can change that.”

You smiled at him. Your boyfriends were the sweetest men in the whole world, and you told them so.

“Well, let’s dig in before the food gets cold,” you said.

Dig in you did. You weren’t sure where all this extra room in your stomach came from. Maybe you were catching up on all the meals you’d missed these past few weeks? You finished your plate and had two helpings of peach cobbler with ice cream. It wasn’t long before all three of you were passed out on the couch, struck down by the itis. You slept peacefully in a cuddle puddle.

You didn’t wake up until the next morning, and you were immediately greeted by the sound of a sizzling pan and the smell of fresh-baked goods. You hadn’t even realized you were smiling until Bucky returned one, saying, “I love to see my girl wake up with a smile on her face.”

“Well, it’s easy to wake up with a smile on your face when you’re Bucky’s girl.”

“You’re Steve’s girl, too,” Steve mumbled against your shoulder. He was spooning you and hugged you tighter to his chest to emphasize his words.

“Mmmm, yes, the best way to start my day is with Captain America wrapped around me.”

“Agreed,” Bucky said, sending a wink Steve’s way.

After such a big dinner last night, you were surprised that you were ravenous for whatever smelled so good in the kitchen. Maybe your appetite had come back for good? You could only hope. You tried to figure out what Bucky was making (and how soon it would be ready), but you couldn’t see much from the couch.

“Hungry?” Bucky asked.

You nodded.

“Steve, you wanna help our girlfriend get her teeth brushed?”

A few weeks ago, that would’ve been the strangest sentence you could’ve imagined hearing your boyfriend utter, but now it was normal. Steve picking you up, carrying you to the bathroom, and placing you down in front of the sink was lifechanging. The ultimate cheat code for your lack of energy. You’d skipped a lot of dental hygiene in the past month, partially because you lacked the physical energy to do it, and you drained all of your mental energy trying to motivate yourself to scrounge up the physical energy. Actually letting someone take complete care of you like this allowed you to really rest and regain your energy—both physical and mental. You didn’t have to think about where your next meal was coming from—it would be planned and cooked and brought to you by someone else. Someone who loved you and was happy to do it. You didn’t have to worry about getting ready for bed or getting ready for the day—it was taken care of. You didn’t have to go to work and small talk with coworkers and deal with the general public. You didn’t have to do anything.

A few minutes later, you were back on the couch, this time a little more refreshed, and Bucky was bringing you plate of whatever mystery meal he had cheffed up. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, maybe a frittata or a quiche, but certainly not this. It was the kinda plate your grandmother would make for you in the summers. Gorgeously golden fried green tomatoes, salmon croquettes, eggs, cheese grits, and biscuits. You looked around, trying to make sure that you weren’t still dreaming.

“Does it look alright?” Bucky asked anxiously.

You looked at him with suspicion. “Is my mom or grandma here? Hiding in a closet somewhere?”

You both laughed.

“I did consult them for recipes.”

You took a few bites of food, thoughtfully tasting it. It was amazing, of course. As with last night, you could tell that Bucky had tweaked the recipes a bit to better suit your personal tastes.

“You missed your calling,” you said simply.

“What?”

“You should be running a Michelin-starred restaurant, not slumming it with the spandex brigade.”

“Hey,” Steve objected to the nickname through a laugh.

“Just sayin’,” you shrugged. “And that applies to you too. I mean, you are an artist, but you could be doing that full time and having gallery shows and stuff.”

They both took a minute to think about what you said, which you were happy to give them if it meant uninterrupted time with your breakfast.

“I do love to cook, but I mainly like to cook for you two.”

“Hey, you won’t see me complainin’,” you said, requesting another biscuit.

“Yeah, and right now, the only thing I really like to paint is you two, and those paintings are too personal to me to share with the public.”

“Alright,” you said. “I’m happy to continue being your muse.”

You exchanged smiles and that was that. You didn’t want to push them, but maybe one day they’d start seeing just how flimsy their excuses were. Neither had given much thought to life after Avengers before your relationship had started, and even though both were now interested in retirement, you weren’t sure yet if they could really visualize their lives without being superheroes. Maybe they hadn’t yet realized that you can save lives without a super suit. Hell, look at them these past few days. They didn’t need super soldier abilities to help you, just their caring and compassionate hearts.

After breakfast, you were surprised that you wanted to do something active. Your boyfriends exchanged a look that you were learning to recognize—they had a trick up their sleeves.

“Yoga?” Steve suggested casually.

When you agreed, he produced the largest yoga mat ever seen. He and Bucky cleared space for it in front of the TV in the living room and they already had a video queued up with three-person yoga poses. You had heard of couples yoga before, but didn’t know that there were poses that accommodated three people, and you certainly didn’t know there was a single mat big enough to hold all of you as you played a sophisticated game of Twister trying to emulate the poses shown in the video.

Your boyfriends’ strength and flexibility did most of the work, but it was still a challenge to get perfectly balanced and positioned. Some poses were easy, like a pyramid pose where you just stood on their thighs while they maintained a squat position. But quite a few required you to climb on top of their balanced bodies and pose. Even though they provided a stable foundation, you still had a couple close calls that only their quick reflexes could save. The three of you collapsed to the floor several times in a tangled heap of limbs and giggles. Alpine was definitely perplexed by your activities. At one point it looked like she might join you for a cat pose, but the first time you toppled over, she decided to observe from a safer distance.

You were surprised that your foray into acrobatics was more than just fun. You found that even with silly activities, you were able to communicate with and guide each other, constantly cheering each other on. You trusted them completely to bend you into shapes and hold you up. You knew that no matter how precarious the balance may have felt, they would never let you get hurt. Even when they fell, they took care to shield you from stray knees or elbows. Your body and mind were starting to catch up to what your heart knew: they would never let you down. At the end of the practice, you sat back to back to back in a lotus circle with your knees touching and rested your hands on the legs of the partner on either side. You did synchronized deep breathing and had never felt so deeply connected to them. It was like you were breathing and feeling as one. Maybe pumpkins could still get happily ever afters after all.

After finishing yoga, Steve doodled all of your contortionist attempts into an adorable comic strip. It immediately went on Bucky’s bedroom wall. When you requested a copy, Steve just drew you a whole new one. You loved seeing the three of you in art form. There was something about seeing yourselves together, immortalized in Steve’s sketchbook, that made you feel like your love would last forever.

The rest of the day was uneventful. You had leftovers for lunch and decided to order pizza for dinner. You were about to eat when there was a knock at the door. Neither of your boyfriends made any move to answer it. When the knocking persisted, Steve went to the door but didn’t open it all the way.

Your heart sank. Is it Fury? Are they needed for another mission?

You recognized the voice that said, “Time for dinner!” It was Sam.

“Oh...we can’t go,” Steve said.

“We haven’t seen you two in days. I’m sure you can stop having sex for long enough—”

“It’s not a good time.”

“Hey. Is everything alright?”

“It’s fine,” you yelled. Steve reluctantly opened the door wider and let Sam in. “If y’all have dinner plans, you should go.”

“It’s not a big deal, just weekly team dinner.”

“Alright. Have fun!” you said.

“We are not going. Bye, Sam,” Bucky waved unceremoniously.

“Sam, can you just give us one minute, please?” you asked.

Sam looked confused but backed out into the hallway and shut the door.

“Go to dinner. Hang out with your friends for a few hours. I’ll be fine. I’ll be right here on this couch when you get back.”

“What if you need something?”

“What am I gonna need?”

“I don’t know! Anything!”

“Well then you’ll be right downstairs. Now, go. Shoo!”

They hesitated.

“Come here.” They knelt in front of you. “I love you. You’re so sweet. You take such good care of me. But I’m not a toddler. I’m a grown ass woman. I can survive alone for a few hours. And you two deserve a break from worrying about me. In fact, you could probably use some support from your friends. So I’m asking you to please go to team dinner.”

They looked at each other.

“Okay,” they eventually replied, still reluctant.

They each gave you a kiss on the cheek.

“We’ll be back in an hour.”

“You’d better not be. I mean it. Two hours minimum.”

Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Don’t sass me, boy,” you said.

He gave you one last kiss and they were off.

When they opened the door, you heard Sam ask, “What’s going on, man?”

You wanted them to be honest with their friends, but you were a little nervous about others knowing of your struggles. You didn’t want anyone to look at you differently. You tried to distract yourself from paranoia about your mental health becoming a topic of conversation at the Avengers’ dinner table. You reminded yourself that you had nothing to be ashamed of. As if to affirm you, Alpine leapt onto the arm of the couch to keep you company. You stroked her soft fur.

“Thanks for the pep talk, Alpine.”

She meowed as if to say, “Anything for you, girl!”

The two of you hung out on the couch for an hour and a half. You were pretty tired and you were satisfied that your boys were having fun with their friends. A few days of actual complete rest had done you good. You were able to get yourself ready for bed and you felt so proud of yourself. Small victories.

…

You weren’t sure what time it was when they climbed into bed with you. You gave them each a quick kiss.

“Sorry to wake you.”

“That’s okay.”

“Sorry you had to get ready by yourself. We were back in exactly two hours!”

You laughed. “I got tired.”

“Were you able to do your whole routine?”

You nodded excitedly. Steve high-fived you. It was a strange world where you were getting congratulated for brushing your teeth, but you were happy to be so supported.

“Did you have a good time with your friends?” you asked.

The hesitation before saying “Yeah,” loaded the otherwise innocuous word.

“What?”

“We didn’t give details, but they wanted to know what was going on...”

“Okay?”

“So we—we told them that you’ve been having a hard time lately.”

“You were supposed to! Those are your friends. I’m sure you two have had a hard time seeing me like this, you should absolutely talk to your friends about things that are weighing on you.”

They exhaled with relief.

“Good because—”

“It actually felt good to—”

They laughed nervously after talking over each other.

“Go ahead,” Bucky said to Steve.

“It felt good to talk to them about…everything. Not everything. But they know what it’s like to have to be away from loved ones, not be able to be there when they need you. And we’ve been worried about you. We were worried when we left, and we were worried when we got back and no one had seen you and we couldn’t reach you.”

“Are you still worried?”

“I’m hopeful that you’ll continue to feel better.”

Not quite an answer, but you decided to let it slide.

“Everyone sent you well wishes,” Bucky added.

“That’s sweet,” you replied before yawning.

“Alright, we’ll let you sleep,” Bucky said. They both kissed you on the cheek and you didn’t wake up again until morning.

Steve was kissing your face softly. “Morning,” he murmured when you finally opened your eyes. You could get used to waking up like this.

“I never wanna use an alarm clock again,” you said. “I need you to wake me up like this every morning.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he grinned as he scooped you out of bed to get you ready.

As you sat in the kitchen, you were eager to see what Bucky had prepared for breakfast today. He already had a plate prepared for you and set it down in front of you. Fried fish the way your cousin Hakim made it, even down to the sliced avocado and lime on the side, scrambled eggs, creamy grits just like your mom made, and your aunt’s famous rolls.

You looked at the rolls, then at Bucky, then at the rolls. You grabbed one and tasted it. You sighed. They were so good. Hot too. “Did you have Aunt Dianne deliver these??”

Bucky’s chest rose with pride. “I made them. With her help, of course.”

You took another bite. “Bucky...no one knows this recipe! She just gave it to you??”

He shrugged nonchalantly. Or, he tried to. He was smiling too hard to pull off casual.

“Did you fry this fish, too?”

“Actually, Steve wanted to do it.”

“Guys, I don’t even know what to say...”

“I’m hoping you’ll say you like it.”

You nodded enthusiastically and they laughed.

“You haven’t even tried it yet!” Bucky said.

“Doesn’t matter. Best breakfast I ever had.”

And when you finally did try all the items on your plate, they all lived up to the hype. After breakfast, you decided to address something that had been weighing on you.

“Can I ask y’all something?”

They nodded.

“Be honest, were yall scarred for life by my dirty apartment?”

They took one look at each other before bursting out into laughter. Every time they almost got it together enough to explain, they started laughing again.

“Boys!”

“Sorry, sorry. But with the things we’ve seen, a messy apartment—”

They started laughing again

“What is so funny?!”

“With all the things we’ve seen, you think we’re afraid of a little dirt?”

You giggled a little bit with them. They were making all your worries seem so insignificant. “Well, no, but—”

You were interrupted by a knock at the door. When Steve answered it, he was happier to see Sam than he had been last night. He let him in immediately. Sam didn’t waste any time making himself at home, popping a game into Bucky’s Nintendo Switch and asking for a plate of whatever smelled so delicious. You were amused by Bucky’s death stare at Sam’s feet on his coffee table, even as he begrudgingly made Sam a plate. You prepared yourself to go across to Steve’s to give Bucky and Sam some time to hang out, but, to your surprise, Sam requested your presence on the couch and handed you a controller.

“Sam, you know I love you, but I’m not in the mood to slip on a banana peel.”

He laughed. “Good, because we are not playing Mario Kart today.”

You looked up at the screen as the game loaded.

“Animal Crossing?!”

Even though you’d upped your gaming skills, you still always suggested that Sam and Bucky play something more relaxing, like Animal Crossing. You’d never played it, but it seemed like a cozy, fun game. Sam always shut you down though, preferring competition-based play to “that dumb animal game”.

He smiled before rolling his eyes dramatically. “Let’s play this boring ass game.”

“Hey! You don’t know it’s boring yet!”

He sighed as you started playing. You designed your character and got the island set up. You decided to name it Pala; you figured this utopic settlement would be safe from the ravages of capitalism and military invasion by neighboring islands. When it was time to place your tent, you wanted to see if you could achieve true beachfront living and started narrating like you were on an episode of Beach Hunters. The first beach location you tried was too narrow, and at first you considered going to the grassy ledge just above it. Being close to the beach but not on the beach was a common HGTV dilemma. You tried a larger patch of sand before settling for option #2 and were able to put the tent on the beach facing the water.

You cheered triumphantly. “Best views on the island.”

“I’m gonna place my tent right in front of yours,” Sam joked.

“That’s ok, I’ll just let high tide take care of you.”

You both laughed.

Once your island basics were set up, it was time for Sam to create his character and join the island. You couldn’t get over how adorable the island was, and even Sam had to begrudgingly admit that the graphics were cute. His favorite character, however, was “the stoned raccoon”.

“He is not stoned!”

“Look at his eyes! He’s on something.”

“I don’t know about him, but Flo the penguin might be on drugs.”

“She’s his dealer!”

You decided to ignore him and focus on fulfilling your first couple tasks, which included collecting fruit. You had to shake the trees to get the fruit to fall off of them and it was such an adorable process that you wanted to keep going even when you’d fulfilled the quota. Sam, impatient to accomplish the quest, ran off without you, only for his avatar to be promptly transported right back to your side.

“What the hell?! I was about to turn the quest in!”

“You see that yellow heart over my head? That means I’m the leader. Let’s go.”

“We have enough. How many more peaches do you need?”

“I’m making a cobbler!”

As Sam begrudgingly collected more peaches, a swarm of bees materialized and chased him. His character ran around frantically, but eventually the hive caught up. His character had one eye swollen shut from the bee sting.

“We don’t even have a hospital on the island! Is there a first aid kit?” you asked anxiously, hoping you hadn’t permanently disfigured Sam’s character.

“Man, why the hell are there killer bees in this game? I am not feeling very relaxed.”

You were able to get him some medicine and get him all patched up so you could continue working on your island. At some point, the allegedly stoned raccoon man handed you an itemized bill.

“Wait a minute…you start this game in debt?” you asked incredulously.

“Not the stoned raccoon being a loan shark…”

“Yeah, I changed my mind. He must be smokin’ somethin’ if he thinks I’m paying him 50 bands for this shithole island!”

“In miles, it’s only 5 stacks. That’s a steal!” Sam joked.

“We’re literally living in tents. This man is a slumlord!”

You both laughed.

“Maybe this game actually will be fun,” Sam conceded.

You had a lot of fun playing Animal Crossing, and a few hours flew by as you laughed and joked and developed your island. You figured he just wanted to check on you and cheer you up after what he’d learned last night, but you hadn’t expected him to actually say something about it. After you had completed your latest task, however, he put down his controller and turned toward you.

“I wanna ask how you’re doing.”

“I’m a lot better than I was.”

“All of us are here for you, you know that?”

You nodded.

“Do you? Because you could’ve called. I would’ve come over to check on you.”

You sighed.

“I just want you to know that we can play Animal Crossing any time.”

“Thanks, Sam.”

You had unlocked a new smile of Sam’s. It was his Reassuring smile, and it made you feel supported and comforted. Sam really had become like a brother to you, and even though you hoped your mental state would never be this bad again, maybe you’d take him up on the offer anytime you were feeling a little down. Spending time with Sam had been so much fun and definitely needed. Maybe I should reach out to my friends…

It was hard because you were feeling a lot better, just not 100%. It was like you needed something to jumpstart the joy back into your world, bring some color back into your life again. Your boyfriends had been so amazing, but they’d done a pretty bad job of hiding how worried they were. If you had more energy, you’d probably plan a field day or something. Maybe in a few weeks, you and the boys could plan something for all your friends.

…

The next day you were considering texting your friends and asking them to hang out when Steve and Bucky got your attention.

“We have a surprise for you, but if you don’t like it we can pretend it never happened.”

You laughed. “I’m sure I’ll love it.” Although you weren’t sure where you were going and why you needed to leave the comforts of the couch to see it.

“We got to thinking about what you would do in our situation and this is what we came up with.”

You weren’t quite sure what you had expected to see after hearing that statement while walking into one of the training rooms, but you knew you had never been so shocked. The modern color palette and sleek machinery of the training room had been completely transformed into an explosion of color and fun. The room in front of you could best be described as an adult version of the Chuck E Cheese birthday you’d dreamed of having as a kid. Big inflatable slides that dumped into a humongous ball pit. An inflatable obstacle course. A bounce platform with plenty of pillowy, soft places to land when you went too high on the springiest, bounciest material you had ever jumped on. Swings that went way higher than the ones on the playground. There was even a fenced-off area full of puppies. You felt like a kid again. No. This was better than being a kid. As an adult, you could better appreciate the magic of bubbles raining down from the ceiling, or a clear inflatable snow globe full of swirling balloons. You flitted around the space like a hummingbird, never stopping in one place for long before the next thing caught your eye.

“Wow…” No other words came to mind.

“We invited your friends, if that’s alright.”

You nodded quickly, already imagining how much fun you were all going to have. You encouraged them to invite their friends as well, which is how you ended up watching Brandon, Thor, and Kiara all battling it out in a hula hooping relay race. Your boyfriends, in their infinite wisdom, had built in some quieter spaces to this grown up playground in case you needed a break from the excitement. The three of you had climbed a ladder onto a suspended net and you observed the fun from up high.

“Thank you for this.”

“You had fun?”

“I did. I think I needed this. To get out of my head for a little while.”

While you weren’t home free, this was the very first time you knew for certain that you would be ok. The first confirmation that eventually you would feel completely yourself again. And that knowledge was so precious that you started to tear up.

“Don’t start,” Steve warned jokingly as his eyes began to water in response.

When the three of you laughed, the tears escaped their dam. You hugged. “I’m going to be ok,” you whispered. They hugged you tighter.

…

Later that night, you sat on Steve’s kitchen counter as he made you grilled cheese with a fried egg, as requested. You were enjoying the sandwich (which was the best grilled cheese you’d ever had, by the way) when Bucky returned from overseeing the conversion of your bouncy palace back into a boring old training room. The clock had struck midnight, after all. And there you were, a princess, stripped bare of the facade of a pretty dress or a chipper demeanor—you were in a ratty old t-shirt and recovering from a depressive episode, but still a princess nonetheless. This illness couldn’t take your identity if it wanted to.

When he walked in, Bucky gratefully accepted his grilled cheese from Steve with a kiss. “Thanks for the sandwich, Squeez.” You all giggled at the nickname.

You gasped as you suddenly remembered something. Your boyfriends looked at you in alarm. “I totally forgot that I got a slutty World War II nurse outfit that I was gonna wear when y’all got back!”

“You did?!”

“Yep. I ordered it months ago but I wanted to wait until you two went on a longer mission. Don’t worry, though. You’ll get to see it eventually.”

“Let me know when you’re ready to bring it out,” Steve said, “I can get in a fight, get some cuts and bruises for you to bandage up.”

You laughed at his eagerness.

“Nurse, I think I’m runnin’ a temperature,” Bucky said, walking towards you.

You decided to use your lips as a thermometer and left a lingering kiss on his forehead. “Normal temperature.”

He looked at you with a sly, charming grin. “Then it must just be you that’s got me feelin’ so hot.” Even though you’d had sex with this man countless times, something about his delivery of the flirty line made you feel shy and giggly.

“Does that line work on all the girls?” you finally managed to ask.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. You’re the only one who ever made me feel this way.”

You had to actively fight your natural instinct to swoon. You wouldn’t have stood a chance against Bucky’s charm back in the day, and you told him as much.

“Yeah, well, I was so charming in the past because I was practicing for when I met you. I just didn’t know it yet.” He stroked your chin with his thumb and gave you a quick kiss. “La mia principessa,” he whispered. You practically melted at the words.

“We have to take Steve to Italy, you know. Redo the first dates with all three of us.”

“Sounds perfect,” he said.

And it was perfect. Everything was perfect. When you were in college, the dining hall saved money by buying fucked up fruits and vegetables to cook with. There was nothing wrong with them, it was just the kind of stuff that no one would buy at the store because of the way it looked. They called it perfectly imperfect produce. You’d rolled your eyes then, but it made sense now. Was everything in your life picture-perfect? No. But every moment with them was perfect to you. You had weathered the storm together, and come out of it even stronger. You had done things you didn’t even think were possible. Were you still depressed? Yeah. But it didn’t have the same power over you as it did before. For now, a perfectly imperfect life would more than suffice.