Out for Milk
“Jamie?” Y/n calls out as she opens the door with the key he’d given her months ago. “You up yet?” She gets in, closing the door behind her. She’s carrying a bag of plums she couldn’t help herself from picking up at the farmer’s market, for him.
She begins to make her way into the apartment, “I stopped by the f—”
She’s interrupted by a very real and very shirtless Steve.
“—fuck you.” she finishes. And the moment the words fall out of her mouth, her hand flows up to clasp it shut.
Motherfucker.
“I didn’t—,” she tries, taking her hand off. “It wasn’t—I… I’m sorry. It’s an instantaneous response.”
Steve just chuckles, waving a dismissing hand, putting the other in the pocket of his sweatpants. “I deserved it.”
He isn’t entirely wrong but, “I don’t like holding grudges.”
His face scrunches up in complete disagreement with a knowing look in his eyes. And as much as she hates it, he does know her, a lot better than most people.
“Okay, let me rephrase that, I prefer to kill the people I’ve got a grudge against.” She begins moving over to the kitchen, passing him by. His body turns with her, following her motions. “And you, I can’t kill.”
“You could.”
“I don’t want to,” she clarifies. She places the plums on the kitchen counter and takes a look around at the mess in front of her. “Let’s try this again, shall we?” She looks up at him, “Morning.”
He smiles at her, and suddenly Y/n remembers how much that smile used to mean to her. She hates it. “Good morning,” he replies easily.
She’s wearing a simple, oversized black shirt, tucked into her white baggy trousers. The shirt she realizes isn’t even hers. It’s Bucky’s.
“I didn’t know you were gonna be here,” she says, as she begins to try and organize the mess of flour, eggs, salt, and sugar that’s flooded the kitchen island.
“Well, I sold my apartment when…” he drops off, looking contrite. She could help him, but she doesn’t want to. People shouldn’t do things if they can’t even bring themselves to talk about said things. So instead she focuses on clearing the line of salt Bucky had apparently decided to spill on the table. “Anyway, Bucky offered to let me stay here for a few days till I can find a place again,” he adds after a pregnant pause.
This motherfucking sly little shit. She knows exactly what that statement was meant to say. ‘Look at me, I’m putting down roots. I’m here to stay.’ Well, she doesn’t mind either way.
“I should have figured.” She picks up the broken eggshells and chucks them into the trash can. “Where the hell are you sleeping?” Before he can say anything, she waves her hand. “Wait, no. Let me guess, he’s sleeping on the floor again.”
Steve just nods, sympathetically. And she can’t help but snort.
She picks up the bowl in front of her of what she presumes must be pancake mix. She picks up a dollop on her finger. “Where is he, anyway?” She licks it off and her face scrunches up in sheer disgust. Explains the salt.
“Oh, he said he was going down to the store to get—” he looks around, “Actually I have no idea what he went to get.”
“Milk,” she states as she dumps the whole mixture in the trash.
“What?” Steve asks, confused.
“Milk. He went to get milk.” She pulls out a new bowl and begins sifting the flour. “He has a bad habit of drinking it straight from the carton and putting it back in the fridge almost empty.” Sifting in the sugar next. “Then he obviously forgets to buy milk,” she explains, finally looking back up at the man.
“I didn’t know he did that.”
“Well,” she shrugs.
“I grew up with him, and I didn’t know that.”
“In all fairness, if he did that growing up, his mother would’ve bitch slapped him.”
“Without question.”
He has an odd look in his eyes.
“What?” She asks, moving to the shelf next to her to pull out the baking powder. His eyes follow her closely.
“Nothing,” he assures her. “Just… you guys seem… close.”
“I guess,” she agrees. She puts a pinch of the baking powder in the mix and then starts cracking in the eggs. She fixes him with a look when he remains silent, “That a problem?”
“No! No,” his hands fly up. “I just—I don’t know. I was asking cause even last night at dinner you guys seemed—”
“Are you asking me if I’m screwing your best friend, Steven?” She glares at him with a mocking smile and he almost flinches. “Cause the hypocrisy of it all would be cosmically funny if you were.”
Steve takes a few steps forward, resting his hand on the kitchen island. He sighs. “I wasn’t trying to—”
“What did James say?” She asks, cutting him off. She puts in the oil and begins folding the mixture, “I’m guessing you asked him, what did he say?”
She’s dying to know.
“He said there wasn’t anything for me to worry about.”
And that shit fucking rips her apart.
Her hands still.
“Y/n?” Steve calls out, breaking her trance.
She clears her throat. “Means you have your answer.” She puts the mix aside and begins cleaning up.
“Y/n, look,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “I know that I screwed up when I left but—”
“Steve—” She really doesn’t need this fucking pitch. Especially not after that bombshell.
“I messed up. Okay?”
“Can we please not do this?”
He walks closer to her, only inches away “Just hear me out? Once, and then we can put it to rest. I’ll back off,” he pauses and then adds, “please?”
And the desperation in the last word breaks her, “Fine.”
“We went back to the ‘70s to get the tesseract,” he begins.
“You told me,” she states.
He nods, “But I didn’t tell you that I saw Peggy. And… I don’t know. I saw her and—I can’t explain it that well, really but, I guess I saw her, and I couldn’t help but think what could have been, you know?” He breathes in audibly, gathering up strength. “And with Nat gone, and after what happened to Tony… I just—I thought I needed to live a normal life. I thought going back was my way of paying them back in some way, living my life for myself.. They always told me to get a life, so I thought; why not?” He wipes his face with his hand, exhaling. “You and I hadn’t been ‘us’ since Siberia and I didn’t think I could have it with you, again—anymore. Didn’t think you wanted it. So I didn’t bother trying either…” He looks straight at her then, “But I got it all wrong. The past… I idealized it. It wasn’t what I had made up in my head, or what Wanda had shown me.”
“Wanda?” Y/n asks, confused.
“Back when she was with Ultron and she played with all our heads?” He asks and she nods. “Yeah, well she showed me Peggy… waiting for me, calling me home, after the war.”
And yeah, that definitely doesn’t hurt. Because being retroactively hurt isn’t a real thing, is it?
“But, it wasn’t real. I love Peggy. I do, but the past isn’t where I belong,” he adds. “I’m sorry, I really am, so very sorry for leaving. It was… awful. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make it up to you.”
She sighs, “You done?”
He just nods dejectedly.
And before she says anything, a part of her knows that he’s been forgiven. As much as she hated being left behind, Steve hadn’t been Blipped away like she had. He’d had five years even after Siberia where he and Y/n weren’t together. And she can empathize with his need to have something normal, to do something that was in his control having lived through the devastation that Thanos caused. She doesn’t think they can ever be what they used to be before but she can empathize enough with his reasons to forgive him and accept him back into her life in some capacity.
Besides, like she said, she prefers the people she holds grudges against to be dead. It helps her sleep better at night.
“Look Steve, I understand all that. But you can’t in good faith tell me you just expect me to pick up where we left off?”
“I don’t, of course not,” Steve answers. “I was hoping to be friends, at least—maybe?” His hand is scratching the back of his head.
“I’ve got plenty of friends, Rogers,” she states, arms folding. “What makes you think you’re special enough to be added to the list?”
Steve doesn’t seem fazed by the challenge at all, almost expecting it. “I’ve got a great ass,” he deadpans.
And then there’s a few seconds of silence.
Before Y/n breaks out laughing, and Steve joins in.
“God, I missed you,” she says because she had. Steve had been an important part of her life for a while and he’d made her laugh to the point of tears. She had missed him especially after Tony, but that was different than the way she had missed him as time passed. Because now when she says it, what she means is that she’d missed the connection between two people who had outlived too many of their friends.
“I missed you too, doll,” Steve replies smiling.
Before she can rebuke him for calling her that—
“What are you doing here?” Bucky asks, standing behind them, with a carton of milk in his hand. His tone seems accusatory.
“Excuse me?” Y/n cocks her brow, all traces of the smile lost.
Bucky’s demeanor shifts, “I jus—I just meant, I thought we were meeting at your place later this afternoon, for mission briefing?”
Steve takes a few steps away, turning to look at his friend.
“Yeah. Well, I came by to drop off some plums I got at the farmer’s market,” she explains. “Then I ran into America’s ass over here—”
“Yeah, got it,” Bucky cuts her off dismissively. He places the milk on the counter and begins taking his jacket off in a huff.
“What crawled up your ass this morning?” Y/n asks, noting his surly behavior.
“Nothing. I’m like this every morning,” Bucky retorts.
Which is fairly untrue so she says as much, “That’s not how I remember it.”
Bucky fixes her with a glare that she doesn’t know what she did to deserve. Usually, Bucky goes along with her teasing, matching her beat for beat. So this whole conversation is throwing her off.
“Guess you must have read it wrong,” he states, picking up the bowl of pancake mix and pouring milk into it.
“Steve, do you mind giving us a sec?” Y/n asks, eyes still fixed on Bucky.
“Sure,” and with that Steve makes a hasty exit.
“What’s going on?” Y/n asks Bucky.
“Nothing,” he replies, but his tone isn’t simple and calm; it’s just trying to seem like it. “Did you do something to this?” he asks, pointing at the pancake mixture.
“No,” she replies. She pulls on his arm, “Come on, Jamie, tell me what’s wrong? We were fine last night… Is it cause of Steve?”
He finally looks at her then, “Why would it be ‘cause of Steve?”
“I don’t know, cause it’s Steve and you think that means something about whatever we have—”
“Why would I think that, Y/n?” He chides sardonically. “It’s not like we’re a thing.”
Ouch.
That didn’t hurt half as bad as she’d expected it to.
Fuck no.
It hurt worse.
She drops the grip she had on his arm. Trying her best not to break in front of the man, she looks away. Exhaling heavily, she clenches her jaw. And turns around, making her way to the door.
Her silence must alert Bucky, “Y/n?”
She doesn’t think she can really speak right now. She isn’t even sure if she opens her mouth whether words will fall out of them or just plain screams.
“Y/n?” Bucky tries again, sounding more anguished than before, following behind.
She opens the door.
“Goddamn it, will you please say something?” His vibranium arm grabs hers. And the touch burns her. It’s searing onto her skin like a brand. She looks at the objecting hand with sheer distaste.
“Got nothing to say, Bucky,” she spits out, removing his hand with her own.
“Y/n I didn’t—”
“I’ll see you later, Barnes.” And with that, she walks out.