On, Wisconsin!

Your eyelids are heavy as you’re dragged out of your deep slumber. Bucky’s light heartbeat gently drums beneath your fingertips. You blink through your groggy haze and raise your head. Bucky was still sleeping, but you were tucked against his side, one leg over his, as a soft snoring rose and fell from his mouth. A sleepy smile draws at the corners of your mouth as you snuggle back down, melting into the warmth of his body. He begins to stir from his sleep, bringing his arm from around you along with his other one above his head, stretching out his body and sighing a content breath. His arm wraps back around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. You can feel his muscles rippling underneath his thin shirt.

“G’mornin’, doll,” he groggily mumbles, playing with a strand of your hair.

“Mornin’, Buck,” you drag your head up, pressing a light, feathery kiss on the side of his jaw. His eyes are still closed, but he smiles as a low, faint mix of a chuckle and a hum rumbles deep in his chest.

“Do we have to get up? Because I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty damn comfortable.”

“Yes, Buck, we do,” you laugh light-heartedly. You drag you body up, pushing against his chest to get into a comfortable sitting position. Lifting your arms above your head, you feel the muscles in your back and shoulders stretch, gradually washing away the remnants of sleep from your body. “C’mon, bud.” You pat his stomach then scoot to the edge of the bed, sliding off to stand on the cool floor. “I’ll get the coffee goin’.”

“M’kay, doll. I’ll just stay here,” Bucky mutters as he pulls the blankets back up to his chin, burying the side of his face in a pillow.

“Well, if you’re just gonna stay in bed all day, then I’ll just have to take Steve to today’s activity, and not you.” You saunter into the kitchen and hear the bed shift. Bucky appears by your side a few seconds later.

“What are we doin’ today?” He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“You’re just gonna have to wait and find out,” you smirk at him. He huffs and presses a playful kiss to the top of your head.

“Always keepin’ me on my toes,” he laughs.

“What are you two up to now?” Steve walks into the kitchen, rubbing away the sleep from his eyes. “Did I just walk in on something I probably shouldn’t have?” There’s a sarcastic edge to his voice.

“Just tryin’ to get Y/N to tell me what she has planned for us,” Bucky turns to Steve, dropping his arm from your waist. He leans back against the counter. “But she won’t seem to budge.”

“Well, I sure hope that whatever you do have planned, it’s not going to be outside,” Steve yawns. “It’s supposed to be storming all day.”

“Please tell me you’re kidding,” you groan as you set down the container of coffee. “Well, there goes my plan.”

“Can you tell us what it is now?” Bucky pries. You sigh.

“I was going to take you guys go-karting at this really fun track, but they won’t be open if it’s raining.” Your shoulders slouch as you dump another scoop of coffee into the coffee maker. “Guess we’ll just have to think of something to do inside.”

“There’s a ton of board games,” Steve suggests. “Plus, we leave tomorrow and we still have a lot of food. We could…make a bunch of it and play games. It’ll just be a relaxing type of day.”

“You know, that doesn’t sound half-bad, Stevie,” Bucky nods. He looks at you. “What do ya think, doll?”

“It’s actually really not a bad idea. It does sound kinda fun,” you shrug. You look at the clock above the stove. It’s 9 a.m. “Why don’t you two find some games we could play, and I start looking for recipes to make.”

“I hope we have Uno,” Steve smiles as he walks out of the room. “I kick ass at Uno!”

Steve was right. You’ve played four rounds of Uno so far, and he’s one every single one. You were convinced he had to have some secret stash of cards, but a quick pat down ruled you wrong - guess the man is just an Uno God.

Halfway through the fifth round, the buzzer on the oven went off. You put your cards face-down on the floor and jump up to take the brownies out of the oven. While the boys were finding games, you had whipped up as many pancakes you possibly could with a full box of mix, brownies, an apple pie, and some cinnamon rolls. There were still a few bags of chips, a lot of fruit, and some granola bars, but you had no doubt that the boys wouldn’t be able to consume all of it, if not over the course of the rest of the day, then by tomorrow morning. You had saved some burger patties and other things for dinner and had already packed up enough snacks for the long car ride back to the airport, so basically anything was fair game. Once you had pulled out the brownies, you carried back out the plate of piled pancakes in one hand and syrup and a new cup of coffee in the other.

Steve and Bucky were distracted from the game by trying to throw pieces of trail mix into each other’s mouths.

“I have pancakes,” you smile, setting them down on the table next to you.

“Oh, hell yes,” Bucky snaps his attention towards you. A peanut hits him in the eye and he winces. “Dammit, Steve, what the hell? Even if I was looking at you, that still wouldn’t have been a good toss!”

About fifteen pancakes, half a tray of brownies, and nearly all the pie later, you and the boys had moved into the living room to watch some movies. Baking always took a lot out of you for some reason, and the idea of sleep began to dance around your conscience. Rain pattering on the roof created a sense of sleepy calm in you. Inglourious Basterds had just started, and you could already feel the weight of sleep pull down your eyelids. You were laying on one of the couches using Bucky’s thick thigh as a pillow, his hand entangled in your hair, rubbing soothing patterns into your scalp. Your body kept involuntarily jolting to try and keep you awake, but the last thing you remember is Christoph Waltz yelling out a phrase in French before the first scene transitioned into the next, then, all at once, everything disappeared.

A loud clap of thunder shook your body awake. You bolt straight up, the taste of sleep heavy in your mouth as you wipe away some drool from your lip.

“Hey there, darlin’,” Bucky smiles at you.

“Hey,” you groggily mumble. A few strands of hair were stuck to your face, and you pull them away, tucking them behind your ear. “What time is it?” You yawn, stretching your arms above your head and leaning back into the couch.

“A little after five,” Bucky looks at his phone. “Steve’s still out,” he nods to the couch across from you. Steve was half-on-half-off the couch, snoring loudly. His blanket had fallen off his body and sat in a crumpled pile on the ground next to him.

“How long was I out?” You blink away the remaining sleepy haze.

“Just a few hours,” Bucky wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you against him. “Are you hungry?” His breath tickles the outside of your ear.

“Kinda,” you sigh. The rain was pounding down on the roof. A flash of lightning lit up the sky above the lake outside the window and another clap of thunder followed. “Are you hungry?”

“I’m always hungry,” he laughs. “Let’s go get some food.”

Bucky managed to eat a full pizza and nearly half a bag of chips by himself, while you stuck to just a few slices and a more reasonable amount of chips. You were sitting in the sunroom on the futon, facing the windows. The rain streams off the roof in small waterfalls, and veiny bolts of light would once-in-a-while light up the cloudy, dark sky. The main source of light came from a small, old lamp on the side table next to you.

“You know,” you mutter, mindlessly playing with Bucky’s fingers. “I wonder how long they had that bet goin’ on.”

“Probably longer than we think,” he chuckles. “I’m sure Wanda had something to do with it. Maybe she sensed something in our minds.”

“Wouldn’t doubt it,” you laugh, looking up at him. He turns his head down to look back at you. His grey-blue eyes shine with something light and loving, making you smile. He presses a long kiss to your forehead. When he pulls away, you sneak a quick, smiley kiss to his lips.

“Alright kids, calm down, spare my poor, old heart,” Steve yawns as he walks down the steps, sitting on the edge of the futon. “Tony somehow managed to call. We have to head back earlier than we thought, something about another mission.”

“When do we have to leave?” You sigh.

“As soon as we can,” Steve’s lip turns slightly downward. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I know you would’ve wanted to stay, but -”

“No, hey, it’s okay,” you smile. “This has probably been the best trip I’ve ever had.” You beam at Steve, lightly squeezing Bucky’s hand that was hanging off your shoulder. “It’s okay that we have to leave early, really. I haven’t had this much fun in a long time.”

Steve smiles back at you, then pushes up off the futon.

“Guess we should probably get packing,” he walks around the futon, grabbing his bag and throwing it onto the edge.

“Yeah, I guess so,” you sigh again, lighter this time. You scoot of the futon, then head up the stairs to start packing. Bucky comes up behind you, sliding his arms under yours and then wrapping them around your chest. He gently tugs you back, pushing your back flush against his chest.

“Thank you,” he mutters into your hair before pressing another kiss to the top of your head. “For everything.”

“You’re so welcome,” you hum in response.

“I wasn’t so sure about the whole ‘roughin’ it in northern Wisconsin thing’, but this was so amazing.”

You turn around in his arms, pressing your hands against his chest and laughing.

“‘Roughin’ it?’ I’d hardly call this,” you nod your head to the side, “‘roughin’ it’. If you think this is rough, just wait until I take you two camping. Maybe I’ll even invite Sam,” you smirk.

“No thanks,” he rolls his eyes, throwing his head back. “If Sam’s goin’, count me out. I wouldn’t be able to trust sleeping in a tent with that guy.”

“Okay,” you shrug, sliding out of his hold. “Then don’t go. I’ll just take Steve and Sam.”

“Why do you do this to me,” Bucky chuckles as he walks around the bed, grabbing his own bag.

“Oh, hey, I forgot,” you say as the memory sparks in your mind. “I got something for you and Steve when we stopped at one of the gas stations on the way up here.”

You toss him a crumpled up red shirt. He unfolds it, blinks a few times, then starts to laugh.

“This,” he turns it around. In bright white writing, the shirt reads “Drink Wisconsinbly” in cursive writing over a faded image of Bucky the Badger’s head, “is truly amazing.”

“You like it?” You grin. He

“It’s perfect,” he chuckles again, folding the shirt and tucking it into his duffel bag. “I might just be a Badger’s fan now.”

“On Wisconsin!” You wink at him, shoving the rest of your clothing into the duffel.

Now, this, you think, looking around you, your gaze lingering on Bucky, is a vacation I’ll never forget.