-29- to -30-

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Bucky and Maggie found a restaurant a few streets away, a bit fancier than the dives they usually went to eat at, but Maggie argued that a proper Fuck You, HYDRA party needed a more expensive setting. So they sat across from each other at a table with a clean white tablecloth and a candle on it, and impressed their waiter with their pronunciation of the complicated Italian names. It helped that they both spoke Italian fluently, but they didn't tell him that. The waiter was less impressed when they later paid for dinner with a bowler-hat full of change.

It took Maggie a while to come down from her adrenaline high from the juggling, which Bucky found endlessly amusing. She'd never had so many people looking at her before, at least when she wasn't about to be experimented on or kill them. She'd enjoyed having an audience and making people laugh. She'd been nervous, and more than a little embarrassed, but it had helped having Bucky there in the crowd, grinning at her with a dopey look on his face.

Learning to juggle had quieted her mind over the past few days, though the knowledge that she was going to see Bucky soon had helped. And now that he was across from her, she felt a sense of ease and comfort that she had barely realised she'd been missing.

They hadn't mentioned her disappearing act yet, and Maggie didn't know what she was going to say when they did. She didn't feel like lying any more, to Bucky or to herself, and yet she knew that she was still in the same situation. She was still hopelessly attracted to Bucky – she couldn't quite stop herself from staring at him, or touching him when she got the chance – and yet the same issues of stability and compatibility remained.

But something had changed. She hadn't really come into this with any plans, beyond apologising to Bucky and juggling, but she knew she was done making herself unhappy for no good goddamn reason. Something had changed with Bucky as well: he kept looking at her, sometimes shooting her a smirk, as if he could sense her thoughts about him. She almost dismissed it, but when he reached up to demonstrate the height of a tank he and the Howling Commandos had taken down in 1944, and her eyes strayed to his stretching torso, he stretched a little longer and his eyes glinted at her.

He knew something was up, though he seemed happy enough to dance around it. Usually, they knew each other too well for either of them to conceal what they were thinking, but now Maggie was having more difficulty than usual reading Bucky. She got the sense that the Bucky Barnes of 1945 was flirty, but she wasn't sure about the man he was now. She was still new to all of this, and she was aware that her lack of experience left her open to mistakes and misinterpretation.

She knew that he cared for her, but she didn't know if he was attracted to her. He had a good handle on his body language, but she'd caught the slight slackening of his jaw when he first saw her in the red dress, and she wasn't the only one getting distracted at dinner. After she threw her head back and full-body laughed at one of his jokes, she noticed that dopey look on his face again. She ran one hand through her loose hair, and nearly fell out of her seat when Bucky's eyes darkened and his fingers twitched where they rested on the table, as if he wanted to reach out.

She didn't see why someone wouldn't be attracted to her – she had symmetrical features, a tall, athletic body, and she could perform many attractive skills such as proficient juggling, or lifting a car over her head. Of course, there were the detracting qualities such as her role as a former assassin, the knives in her feet, and her general mental instability. Bucky didn't seem to mind those traits, though, especially as he shared two out of three of them.

But she knew there was a difference between being attractive and someone being attracted to her, and all her research couldn't help her. Tired of overthinking, she just let herself enjoy laughing and talking with Bucky again. And if she let herself get caught up a little more than usual in the crinkles around his eyes when he smiled, or the line of his shoulders… well, she was only human. And that was something she was proud to be.

As they tried out a fancy Italian wine, Maggie realised that though she'd intended for this to be a Fuck You, HYDRA party, it was actually looking a lot like a date. She'd never been on a date before, but she knew the basics from her research: two individuals dressing up nicely and having conversation over dinner and drinks. Though she supposed that an important component of a date was that both parties needed to know and agree that it was a date, and there'd been no verbal confirmation of that. She shrugged and sipped her wine. Either way, she knew that HYDRA would really hate whatever this was. Though she realised that she hadn't thought about HYDRA at all for almost an hour.

She was contemplating that as they paid – much to the displeasure of their waiter – and left the restaurant. Night had fallen, and she took a deep breath of the cooler air. Bucky was warm and solid to her left.

"Well," he said, adjusting his gloves. "The place for my thing is actually right next door."

"How convenient."

Bucky offered her his arm with another knowing smirk. She lifted her chin and wrapped one hand around his flesh bicep, trying to ignore how good he felt and trying to come up with a way to unsettle him in reprisal. They started walking, and she settled for pressing closer against his arm so there wasn't a fragment of space between them. She could feel the warmth of him radiating through his clothes. Bucky swallowed tightly, eyes skittering across her face and then away, and Maggie smirked to herself. So maybe that answered that question, but there was still a difference between mutual attraction and the possibility of having anything more.

Before her brain started working a mile-a-minute, Maggie rolled her eyes and let Bucky lead her. Thinking through all the possibilities and implications was getting exhausting. She let herself enjoy the head-rush of knowing that she wasn't alone in this new, strange feeling.

They didn't walk long – as Bucky said, his destination was next door. A furrow grew between Maggie's brows as she realised that it was some kind of… club? They were nodded through the door, and then strode across carpeted corridors, past a dining hall and a bar.

Sensing her growing confusion, Bucky laughed. "So it turns out that I was wrong when I said they don't have dance halls anymore," he explained as they approached a set of wooden double-doors. "Apparently there are still a few places you can go to do dancing that isn't… well, you know."

She knew: the rhythmic, mindless undulating and jumping that they'd attempted at the nightclub. She felt her cheeks go pink at the memory, and then they stepped through the doors.

It was a huge room with high ceilings, wooden floors, a stage at the far end and chandeliers hanging from the roof. There was a band on the stage, currently performing a jazzy rendition of a song that Maggie had never heard before. The wide room was filled with people in couples or groups, dancing to the song, while others milled around the edges chatting and sipping drinks.

She took a moment to absorb the spectacle: the swaying couples and the music crooning through the air, the faint squeak of shoes on the wooden floor. There were dancers in party clothes, like them, and others in more casual jeans and shirts. There were a wide range of ages, from people younger than Maggie to people who looked older than Bucky technically was. Arching windows on the other side of the room showed a view of the city lit up at night, with the glinting black ocean in the distance.

"You chose dancing," Maggie smiled, her fingers tightening on Bucky's arm. As she watched, two giggling women in black dresses spun each other with a flare of skirts.

"Yeah." Bucky was smiling, but seemed almost… shy? "I hope that's okay, that I picked something that I already… well, that I used to know how to do. I learned a few new moves, at least."

"It's great," she reassured him with a grin. They stood arm-in-arm before the dancefloor, looking at each other. "But I think you've forgotten something crucial."

"What's that?"

"I don't know how to dance. Last time we tried we were in the dark, you didn't see-"

"Oh I saw," he said, too quickly, and then ducked his head. Maggie was torn between embarrassment at the knowledge that someone had been paying attention to her pitiful attempt at dancing, and delight that the someone had been Bucky. "But you learned how to solve three Rubik's cubes while juggling them in two days," he continued. "I'm sure you can handle this."

Maggie looked back out at the couples on the dance floor. Not everyone looked like they knew what they were doing, but she saw enough seamless partners and flourishing dance moves to make her nervous. "It's not quite the same…"

"I'll show you." Bucky's voice was soft by her ear.

Maggie bit her lip. She'd just juggled in front of dozens of people, but the idea of trying this, dancing like that, with Bucky… She took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders. She could do this. And she reflected that yes, this was something that HYDRA would really hate.

Fuck you, HYDRA, she thought, and nodded at Bucky. They left their bags and coats by the door, and then edged onto the dance floor. One song had just ended and the band was taking a few moments rest, so she had a short reprieve.

Bucky and Maggie found a clear spot by one of the arching windows, just inside the crowd of dancers but not so far in that they were surrounded, and faced each other. Maggie's gut was churning again. Bucky was there, in front of her, looking devastatingly good in his navy blue suit and waiting for her to touch him. Sensing her nervousness, Bucky didn't move. He just watched her patiently, his grey-blue eyes soft. His dark hair was untucked from his ears, the ends brushing against his jaw. The shyness from earlier had slipped away, and he didn't shrink or shift under her gaze – he remembered how to do this, and he was confident in his ability. Maggie, on the other hand…

When the opening notes of the next song started up and the other couples on the dance floor stepped together, Bucky cocked his head. "You alright, Meg? You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

She shook her head. "I know where to put my hands, just give me a second to remember."

He smirked, but something in his gaze deepened when she stepped towards him and set her right hand on his shoulder, over the seam between flesh and metal. She cocked an eyebrow and held up her other hand expectantly.

"Sure you aren't teaching me?" Bucky asked, taking her hand. The reassuring solidness of his metal hand in its glove settled on her waist. She kept her breaths steady.

The song playing now didn't have any words, just a steady, rolling rhythm, and Bucky was already moving his shoulders slightly with the beat. They stood a foot apart, their joined hands aloft and their feet planted.

"Alright, I'm just going to show you the basic steps – just watch what my feet are doing, and do the mirror image. See?" He took his hand away from her waist and started moving, stepping forward, then sideways, then back, moving in a one-two-three step with the beat of the music. "It's called a box step, you're just walking around in a square."

Maggie frowned down at his feet as he moved, her hand still in his and her arm still on his shoulder. When he stepped in again he came right up against her, his chest almost brushing her downturned head.

Once Maggie had watched him repeat the step a few times she started to feel self-conscious that she was just standing there like an idiot, so she stepped inwards with one of his back-steps.

"There you go," Bucky murmured, and his metal hand settled on her waist again, light but firm.

She immediately tripped, stepping right when Bucky went left, and her cheeks burned. She was meant to be good at learning things, this was what she got when she got distracted–

"It's alright," Bucky smiled, and then gently pressed against her side to pull her into the next step. "Don't just think about where your feet are going, you've got to pay attention to your whole body, and to mine."

"Great, more things to think about," she grumbled, but smiled at Bucky's chuckle. After another minute she started to get it, working with Bucky and the music, instead of just repeating the motions. Bucky sensed this and started to gently turn them, transforming their simple back-and-forth into an elegant circle. Maggie laughed, and couldn't resist a glance down at her feet to get a glimpse of herself dancing.

When she looked up, Bucky's eyes were on her face.

She grinned. "What, no tricks for me?"

Bucky looked skyward. "Oh, she wants tricks." Without any warning he pulled her into a quick, tight spin, trusting her to adjust to the change in pace. She squawked and her skirt snapped outwards but she held on, narrowing her eyes at him. He responded by grinning and changing up his steps a little, taking four where she only took two.

"Okay, okay! Hang on, I'm going to fall over."

"You're not falling," he said as they fell back into a more comfortable rhythm, now travelling across the floor. The smooth beat of the song washed over them. "You're doing great."

"Would I fit in at the dance halls?" she asked, leaning into the next turn. Once she knew the basic steps she found it astonishingly easy to follow Bucky's movements – she'd always known how to read him, and it seemed that reading his body was no different. She adjusted seamlessly to the bunch of his muscles, the pressure of his hands, the twinkle in his eye when he was about to do something unexpected. It was a little tricky negotiating with her heels, but she'd been able to do her whole juggling routine in them, so she quickly worked out how to take the quick, graceful steps needed for dancing.

"Absolutely not," Bucky responded, and then: "look out, I'm going to spin you."

Maggie was about to ask isn't that what you've been doing? when he released her waist and then used his hold on her hand to whirl her out in to a spin, sending her skirt and hair flying. She instinctively leaned into it, twisting her arm and then letting Bucky reel her back in, grinning. She laughed breathlessly, settling her right hand back on his shoulder.

"It's no fun when you warn me," she laughed, squeezing his hand, and something inside her went bright and fizzy at the way his face broke open in a wider smile, his eyes sparking mischievously.

"Is that right?" he asked, but missed the opportunity to spin her again as the song ended.

Maggie brushed her hair off her face, and laughed when Bucky did the same with his own hair.

"Is this alright?" he asked, eyes serious. The opening chords of the next song started.

Maggie couldn't believe he thought she might be unhappy with this: learning more people things, sharing it with Bucky, and having his hands on her and her hands on him. She cocked her head.

"You know if I didn't like it I'd tell you," she said, making him smile. "But really, look at my face-" she gave him a moment to take in her brilliant smile and flushed cheeks "- I love this. All I have to do now is get so good at dancing that you'll be so stunned by my skills that you never dance again."

They'd started moving instinctively to the opening beats of the next song, a little faster this time, small steps back and forth.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Well then who are you going to dance with?"

"That is… an excellent point. Oh, I know this song!" The singer, a woman with sleek black hair, had stepped up to the microphone and was crooning the opening lyrics to Can't Take My Eyes Off You. While Maggie was distracted Bucky snapped her into a twirl, and laughed at her indignant expression when she was back in his arms.

When the chorus came on Maggie threw her shoulders and hips into the dance, moving with the beat and laughing. Bucky changed up the footwork again and she effortlessly followed, finding that it was easier to move with the poppier beat.

"This is a foxtrot," Bucky explained, stepping smoothly into her. "Kind of."

The song turned out to be a crowd favorite, with couples and groups flooding the floor and chanting the lyrics. Bucky and Maggie couldn't move around as much so they did what they could in their small area, spinning and twisting to the beat. In the second chorus Bucky threw his hips into it like she had earlier, and Maggie got distracted by the sight of it. She almost didn't catch the glint in his eye when he stepped in close, slid his metal arm around to the small of her back and dipped her backwards.

Maggie instinctively seized a handful of his suit jacket, making him laugh, and she felt her hair tumble backwards. Just as quickly as he'd dipped her Bucky pulled her back up, and she thumped his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, did you want a warning?" he asked innocently, pulling her back into the foxtrot, and then laughed at her narrowed eyes.

Maggie got her revenge in the next song when she tripped him up and lowered him into a dip of her own, grinning wickedly down at his shocked face. She was strong enough to hold him there for as long as she liked, his foot trapped beneath hers and her arm behind his shoulder blades, but she waited only a second or two before she pulled him upwards. His heart pounded against her splayed fingers on his back. He blinked at her, hair in his face, too surprised to seamlessly move back into dancing. For a second Maggie thought that she'd maybe done something wrong, but then he huffed a laugh.

"I can honestly say that's the first time I've done that." They stepped back into the dance and Maggie laughed at his poleaxed expression.

"Are you going to survive?"

"We'll see," he replied. "Oh, I forgot to mention, I requested a couple of songs before we got here, you'll have to guess which ones."

Maggie blinked. "Oh?" She thought about it. "Do I get any clues?"

"You'll know," he said, winking. Maggie was about to protest when she bumped into another dancer and apologised profusely.

There were some really good dancers in the hall, waltzing and foxtrotting and doing who knew what else with ease, but most people looked like they were just out to have fun.

Maggie was having fun. It was a concept she'd familiarised herself over the past year, but there was something new about doing this with Bucky – her stomach churned, her skin prickled, and her cheeks were aching from laughter.

Bucky looked like he was having fun, too. The club dancing of weeks earlier hadn't done him justice – he knew how to do this, stepping and turning and moving so smoothly with the music that Maggie felt lighter than air. He'd sold himself short when he said that he used to fudge the steps.

The next few songs were from his time, but he shook his head when Maggie asked if he'd requested them. All the same, he mouthed the words along with the singer and made Maggie laugh. He showed her a few more tricks, complicated steps and turns that made her arms and legs work in new ways.

During the next song, which sounded like it was from Bucky's time but was actually a cover of Halo, Maggie stepped back in from a turn and said: "You said you learned new moves?"

Bucky laughed. "I've been doing them! But I've got a few more tricks up my sleeve, don't you worry. Here's one of them, it should probably work." With that reassuring note, he stepped in close at the chorus of the song, put both hands on her waist and lifted. Maggie squawked and grabbed his shoulders as she was hoisted into the air above the other dancers. She was too startled to do anything but gape down at Bucky's face, grinning from somewhere around her midriff.

"I've got you," he laughed, and then lowered her gently back down with barely a hint of effort. A distant part of Maggie reflected that HYDRA had certainly not intended for their super-soldier strength to go toward dance lifts. The rest of her was pumping with adrenaline from the sudden lift, and flustered at the feel of Bucky's palms – metal and flesh – pressing against her skin.

"Alright?" Bucky asked, spinning her gently.

Maggie opened and closed her mouth. "I remember seeing the video of those swing dancers, doing all of those… spinny lifts, and things, but I didn't think you'd do it!"

Bucky swayed with the music, pulling her with him. "I didn't use to – too scared I'd drop a dame, I think." He grinned. "You're a bit more durable."

Maggie rolled her eyes, and they slowed down as the song did. "Well as long as I'm durable. You know, I didn't throw any juggling balls at your head in my half of this party, yet you seem pretty determined to trip me up."

Bucky looked a little bit sorry, but then said: "Dancing's about your instincts, and it can be about surprising the other person. I'm not trying to trip you up, Meg, I'm just…" he bit his lip, thinking. "Trying to make you laugh, I guess."

Maggie's cheeks flushed against her will, and she covered it up by glancing down at her feet.

The song started to build up again, and Bucky added: "You could pick me up if you wanted, get even. You might get some funny looks, though."

Maggie laughed, imagining the stares she'd get from picking up Bucky, who was far bulkier than her. "I'll have to settle for getting you to pick me up again," she said, with a challenging look in her eye. The singer had just built to the height of her song, belting out the lyrics with her arms spread and her eyes shut.

In the split second Maggie took to look up at the singer, Bucky stepped in close again. His hands found her waist and before she knew it she was in the air again, the cooler air on her face and Bucky's sturdy arms keeping her aloft. She let go of his shoulders and spread her arms, tilting her face toward the glittering chandelier. The music washed over her and she grinned, allowing herself to feel how happy she was in this moment, dancing with Bucky.

Maggie was startled by how much it felt like flying.

When she lowered her arms Bucky pretended to drop her, letting her freefall for a split second before he caught her around her middle and lowered her the rest of the way. Of course, this had the effect of bringing her very close to him by the time her feet hit the floor. Face flushed, hair wild, Maggie's breath caught in her chest at the sight of Bucky so close, his arms around her and her whole vision filled with him. She watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. His grey-blue eyes were dark.

The attraction, Maggie was familiar with. But the sudden prickle of fear – nerves? – that washed across her at the prospect of him so close, with nothing holding her back… that was new. She swallowed and began stepping with the beat again, fumbling for his shoulder and his hand in an attempt to find some dancing pose that didn't feel quite so much like an embrace.

"Um," she said, and winced. "So you said you were learning these moves, how did you do that by yourself in a safehouse?"

Bucky's eyes flickered across her flushed face, and he must have been satisfied with what he found because a small smile lifted his lips for a moment, and then he eased back into the movements of the dance. "This whole experience is going to seem a lot less smooth if you go picturing that, doll."

Damn. Just when she'd been working herself back from whatever that moment was, he went and called her doll. She remembered how he had explained the meaning, and she noted that he was saying it now when no one else could hear. She felt the tips of her ears flame with heat, and she suddenly didn't know where to look. But she couldn't help but laugh at his comment, picturing him watching how-to videos alone in a safehouse and dancing with an imaginary partner.

The next song came on, and Maggie gasped. "This one!" she exclaimed, jumping on the spot. "You requested this song!" It was Glen Miller's In The Mood, and she recognised it because it was the first song Bucky had ever shown her.

Bucky grinned and nodded, and pulled her into a faster-paced dance, stepping and twirling in and out from each other. Maggie started kicking her feet and rolling her arms, like the dancers in the swing video she'd seen, and Bucky laughed.

"What are you doing?"

She spun in place. "Teach me to Jitterbug, Bucky!"

"Aw, jeez."

What followed was a very poor explanation of swing dancing, until Maggie eventually told him to dance the way he would have seventy years ago and she'd follow along. He got into that, lowering his centre of gravity so they could spin in and out from each other, Maggie trying to imitate his effortless kicks and footwork. He was really in his element here, stepping and spinning, his hands guiding her without feeling pushy. She got the sense that dancing would be far harder with a less experienced partner, who didn't know how to work with her natural balance and rhythm, who didn't know how to make her laugh and feel utterly supported and trusted.

They danced every single song, having more than enough endurance, though Maggie's muscles burned at the new movements and her face was flushed. That last part might have been because of the exertion, or the warm room, but she knew the real reason.

Michael Jackson's The Way You Make Me Feel came on, and Maggie didn't even have to ask if Bucky had requested it - the look in his eyes was answer enough. After dancing together for most of the song, he spun her and then pulled her close, murmuring into her ear: "Here's another new move."

He let go of her for a moment – Maggie was startled at how cold she felt without him – winked at her, and then proceeded to execute a perfect moonwalk away from her. His shoes slid across the floor and his muscles bunched and loosened with each step. Maggie put a hand over her mouth, laughing, and only laughed harder when a nearby group of dancers wolf-whistled. Bucky looked up, and there wasn't an iota of embarrassment on his face – he was utterly confident, in every aspect of dancing. He planted his feet, cocked an eyebrow at Maggie and gestured as if to ask well?

Maggie gave him a round of applause, and ignored the skip in her heartbeat when he strode back to her and took her in his arms as if she belonged there.

"That was incredible!" she grinned at him. "You teach me that, and I'll teach you to juggle."

"It's a deal," he smiled, as the next song started. It was slower, and Maggie only vaguely recognized it. "That's it for the songs I requested. This has been… a great party, Meg."

They were dancing much closer than they'd started out, the small sliver of air between them warm and charged. Prickles were running down Maggie's skin wherever they touched, but she didn't feel uncomfortable. She felt good, as if she'd never run away from Bucky and left them both alone and miserable. She remembered what Beatrice had said about being a thinker, or a feeler. She could think through the possibilities and consequences of this all she liked, but she couldn't deny that being with Bucky made her happy. She'd had precious little happiness in her life, and she wasn't going to turn away the happiness she had now.

The song was slow, and sweet, and Maggie just wanted to melt into Bucky. His hands were steady, and his glittering grey-blue eyes were bursting with that familiar expression, the one she used to think looked like he was seeing her for the first time. Maggie realised she was smiling softly.

The dancing they'd been doing before was playful, energetic, but this wasn't a song to show off in. This song invited them to simply hold each other and be.

Maggie felt another crackle-spark of attraction flare in the space between them, and her gut swooped when Bucky's eyes flicked down to her lips. They were so close, Bucky's left arm wrapped around her waist and her right arm cradling his shoulder. She noticed that her left thumb was sweeping back and forth across the back of his hand.

Maggie realised three things at once. The first was that Bucky had been gauging, testing throughout the night – the purposeful touches, the dancing, calling her doll. He'd been trying to work out how she felt about him, somehow picking up on the paradigm shift in recent weeks.

The second thing she realised was that he wasn't going to act on whatever he'd found out, and she knew why. They'd been on the run together for a year now, and though they'd talked extensively about it, she knew he still bore guilt for the deaths of her parents. That was his right – he knew she'd forgiven him, but he still felt what he felt.

He wasn't going to make the first move because of that guilt, and because he'd shown, in his words and his actions over the past year, that he valued her choices. He knew better than anyone how few choices she'd had in her life, and he gave her every opportunity to exert her will now that she was free.

The third thing Maggie realised was that this was an opportunity, and she sure as hell wasn't going to let him get away with doing nothing. She wanted this, wanted him. Always. Forever. Feeling this good felt crazy, and she wasn't going to let it go. Nothing worse than regrets, sweetheart.

So she made the first move. Her heart was pounding against her ribcage, and her stomach churned. She could barely concentrate on stepping in time to the music, she was so focused on this moment.

She couldn't take a few minutes to think about it this time, this was a time to act.

She was too jittery to look Bucky in the eyes, so she watched her hand as she slid it across his shoulder and up the side of his neck, feeling his smooth, warm skin under her fingertips. Goosebumps rose under her touch, and his Adam's apple jumped under her thumb. She trailed her fingers up his neck, sliding to cup his jaw. It was clean shaven, and the feel of him, warm and solid under her palm, made the breath catch in Maggie's chest.

Her eyes flicked to his, and her breath stuttered again to see him watching her intently, his eyes dark and serious. Maggie's hand moved incrementally, and her fingertips brushed his ear.

"Is this okay?" she asked, her voice low and surprisingly steady. She was kind of dazzled by the simple act of touching him, and how good she felt.

Bucky swallowed again, eyes on her, and nodded. "Meg, are you sure?"

"Pretty damn sure," she breathed, and oh, they were close now, their noses brushing, breath mingling, nothing but Bucky's eyes before her, grey and blue and warm. Maggie realised – again – that she still hadn't done any research on this, but one moment she was thinking about kissing him and the next she was, his lips warm on hers. Her eyes drifted closed.

Maggie was too overwhelmed by the sheer pleasure of kissing Bucky to think. Her brain shorted out and her body took over, leaning into him and doing what felt right. She didn't have time to think about breathing, or her one other experience with this, because Bucky was there, finally, his lips – oh, his tongue – his hands in her hair, his scorching touch and the whir of his arm–

Maggie probably should have been thinking about breathing, because after a long moment she had to break away, gasping for air, taking only a moment to laugh at herself and Bucky's blue, confused eyes before she leaned back in, pressing herself against him and melting under his lips.

After a few more moments of her whole body imploding at how good she felt, her brain came back online – albeit sluggishly – and she paid attention to some of Bucky's cues, tilting her head so their noses stopped bumping together, and learning from the sure slide of his lips and teasing darts of his tongue. She mirrored what he did back to him, and smiled into the kiss when his arm whirred. Heat coiled in her gut and shot in sparks down her legs and arms, lighting up anew with each press of Bucky's lips against hers.

Conscious that this was a public space, and it probably wasn't appropriate to start making noise – because that was apparently something that her body wanted to do, now – Maggie gently pulled back. She couldn't resist a few more darting kisses though, planted over Bucky's surprisingly red mouth. She wondered if her lips looked like that, now – they certainly felt tender.

Maggie laughed breathlessly, her forehead still pressed against Bucky's, almost vibrating out of her skin with an emotion she identified as joy. Bucky's flesh hand was in her hair, cupping the back of her head, and his metal arm was wrapped around her waist. Maggie took a moment to remember where her limbs were, and realised that she was on the balls of her feet, with one hand still on Bucky's jaw and the other looped around his neck.

She grinned at him, taking in his blown pupils and the crinkles beside his eyes, the thumping heartbeat that pounded from his chest into hers.

"How the hell are you meant to breathe?" she asked, and Bucky's eyes sparked with laughter.

"With your nose, doll." He kissed her on the nose, as if she might have forgotten where it was. When he met her eyes again his gaze was filled with emotion; affection and want and a little surprise. He slid his nose against hers, and Maggie realized that a new song was playing.

"Why?" he asked, breath against her lips, moving his fingers in her hair.

Maggie shrugged, and decided she was well within her rights to run her fingers along his cheekbone, like she'd been wanting to do for a while now. "Life doesn't always make sense," she whispered. "And you're… you. I don't know, I'm not good at this." What she'd just done sank in a little, and she met his eyes again. "Bucky," she said urgently. "My whole life in HYDRA has been… cold. This can't be like that, I don't want that any more. This has to mean something."

"Meg, I…" Bucky shook his head, and the words seemed to choke in his throat, but Maggie could see how much he wanted what she was asking for: his eyes, which she'd been able to read in place of words for years, were bright. She could see how much he cared about her, and it took her breath away.

They leaned together again simultaneously, and this time the kiss was slow, sure; just moving lips and pounding hearts. Maggie's hand slid into Bucky's long hair, and he shivered when her nails scraped his scalp.

She was very grateful for the tip about breathing through her nose, because it meant she could kiss him for a lot longer.

After another song, Bucky pulled back and clenched his jaw, something darker crossing his face. "Are you sure about me, Meg? Everything I've done, especially to you-"

"Bucky," she sighed, dropping back onto her heels and looking at him. "I am sure. And I… I can't imagine feeling this way about anyone other than you." She looked into his eyes, making sure he really understood that she meant it. "Are you sure?"

"Been sure a while now," he grinned wryly, "But I thought you needed me to be your friend, so-"

"Same, but this is much better." She grinned at him. "Now get back over here, I don't think I'm very good at this and the best way to learn is practice."

"Oh, you're doing just fine," Bucky said, and ran a hand through his hair.

Maggie smiled at him, and thought that she should probably do some research on whether it was possible to have a heart attack or an embolism from feeling so much. "Come on," she said, reaching for him as the next song started. "More kissing."

He came willingly, reaching up to cup her jaw like she'd done only minutes earlier. "Yes, ma'am."

++++++++++

They spent the next few days holed up in their safehouse, not doing much besides eating, sleeping, and lots and lots of kissing. Maggie was glad she'd found a safehouse before the Fuck You, HYDRA party, because her brain was running on half-capacity ever since she and Bucky kissed. She had just enough brain space on the way to the safehouse to remind Bucky that this was her first time doing anything like this, and they agreed to take things slow.

For days they existed in a romantic fugue state, only really breaking off to speak a few times, mumbling things like "been wanting to do this for a while now," and "do that again". Bucky discovered sensitive spots on Maggie's neck and behind her ears that made her mind melt into a puddle of goo, and she in turn discovered that he liked her hands in his hair, and that he would shiver every time she brushed her lips against the point where his neck met his shoulder.

They fell asleep fully clothed (well, mostly – Maggie had taken the first possible opportunity to get Bucky's jacket and gloves off) on the safehouse couch, limbs tangled and hair in each other's faces. The next morning Bucky woke from a nightmare about falling off the train in 1945, but it turned out that was very easily fixed with a short discussion and then lots more kissing. Over the next two days they learned each other's bodies, breaking off to put together some hasty sandwiches, or pour cereal, and more often than not ended up abandoning the meals in favor of each other. They showered separately, but it was a near thing.

Now that Maggie had worked out how to breathe through her nose, things were a lot easier. They were honest with each other about what they liked and what they didn't, and Maggie checked with Bucky that she was doing things right, as he was the one with experience. He had no complaints.

By the second day, Maggie was already questioning why she'd wanted to go slow. Each touch only invited more; with each kiss her body just wanted another, and another, every part of Bucky with every part of her. Bucky seemed perfectly happy to go at the pace she wanted, his more experienced hands and mouth keeping up with the thoughts and feelings that she sometimes found hard to express. Every now and then they had to slow down, either because Maggie got overwhelmed and didn't know what to do, or because one or both of them got a little too into it and they had to back off, to keep up some semblance of 'going slow.'

Maggie kept waiting for some kind of rational thought to enter her mind, but she existed only in a heady rush of Bucky, and her body discovering new and wonderful things.

In the end, it was Bucky who pulled back for air after who knew how long, and said "Meg, we need to…" he cleared his throat. "We need to talk about this."

Maggie, who had been happily exploring his bottom lip while sitting on his lap on the couch, blinked at him dazedly for a few moments. His hands were on her waist, both metal and flesh, and his torso was warm and solid against her right leg. Her hand had somehow found its way under his shirt and was resting just over his navel.

"Right," she said, and couldn't help the brilliant grin that crossed her face whenever their lips weren't locked. He grinned back. Things had gotten heated very quickly, but when that fell away they were left with their sheer affection for one another. Then they usually started kissing again, and then… well, it was self-fulfilling cycle.

But this time, Bucky was right. It probably wasn't sustainable to do nothing but kiss each other for the rest of their earthly existence.

Maggie cleared her throat, retracted her hand from under his shirt and leaned against the back of the couch, with one arm still slung around his neck. She kept her legs on his.

Bucky kept one hand at the small of her back, but his eyes were a little clearer as he looked at her. His lips were swollen and Maggie noticed a purple mark blooming on his neck. She could feel mirrors of the bruise forming on her own neck.

"Meg," Bucky said, and there was a laughing note to his voice that made her meet his eyes. He'd noticed her ogling his neck.

She grinned unabashedly. "I'm listening!"

"You sure about that?" His grey-blue eyes glinted and his flesh hand slid up her leg to snag her hand. It was very unhelpful for her focus, but she saw his challenge and met it, tangling her fingers with his and arranging her face in the perfect picture of rapt attention. The sun glowed through their papered-over windows, casting a halo over Bucky's mussed up hair and illuminating the sparkling blue in his eyes.

"Alright," he smiled, and then his eyes grew serious. "Meg, I gotta know… was this why you left?"

Maggie sighed, and looked down at their joined hands on her thigh. They hadn't actually talked about it yet, and she supposed it was time to come clean.

"That day I…" she hesitated, and frowned at her lap. "I saw someone who reminded me of a man who… who tried to hurt me, back in HYDRA." Her eyes flickered up to Bucky's, and she could see from the stormy expression on his face that he understood exactly what she meant. She swallowed. "I killed him. Without any orders, and without a second thought."

Bucky worked his jaw. "Meg, you can't feel guilty for that – you recognised a threat and you took it out the only way you knew how."

She sighed. It was going to take a while for her to come to terms with it, but she knew Bucky was right. Of all the people she'd killed, she didn't think she needed to be particularly guilt stricken about him.

"I'm sorry, Meg," Bucky murmured, and in his blue-grey eyes she could see it, his concern and his sympathy and some remaining shreds of anger for the long-dead soldier.

She offered him a watery smile, then took a deep breath. "So I was thinking about that, that day, but there's more." He nodded for her to go on. "I really freaked out… because of this." She gestured between the two of them, and bit her lip. Bucky's eyes softened. "I don't know what normal is. I've been feeling this way for a while, but I only realized what it was a few weeks ago. And I didn't understand." At that she looked up, and noticed that Bucky's eyes had gone soft and sad. She shook her head and squeezed his hand. "I've been pretty much exclusively researching attraction and relationships for the past few weeks, I'm a bit more caught up now."

That made him grin and lean into kiss her. "Of course you did," he said when he pulled away, eyes crinkling. "Particle physics?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Maggie flushed. "What was I meant to say, that I was googling the phrase 'butterflies in my stomach'?"

Bucky grinned again, that dazzling flash of white teeth, and his arm whirred. "Find anything useful?"

"Well…" Maggie bit her lip again. "I sort of came to the conclusion that I shouldn't do anything about… this." That made his grin slip away. "I read that relationships needed stability, mental health, room to grow. And I was scared that we'd become too dependent on each other – a person needs more than just one other person in their life, Bucky, we can't be all things to each other."

Bucky nodded, and she could see him turning it over in his mind. "That makes sense. So what changed your mind?" He lifted their joined hands as illustration.

Maggie took a moment to run her eyes over him, his mussed-up hair, the hickeys on his throat, and the air of easy happiness in his frame. "You make me really happy," she said, and her whole body lit up at the smile that brought to his face. "I realised it was stupid to turn that away."

"Very stupid," He agreed. "Poor decision."

She elbowed him with her free arm and then threaded her fingers into his hair. "But, the problem still remains. So if we're going to do this – and I don't know about you, but I would really like to–" Bucky nodded enthusiastically, and she continued. "Then we need some ground rules."

"Agreed."

In the end it only took them ten minutes to come up with a set of rules – more like guidelines – to make sure that a romantic relationship wouldn't compromise their safety, identities, or their already solid relationship. They agreed that they wouldn't be beholden to each other – if one of them wanted to keep something to themselves, or didn't want to talk about something, the other had to respect that. But they both firmly agreed that there would be no lying.

They were going to keep more or less the same rules around personal contact that they'd had before – asking permission unless they were completely, one hundred percent sure that the other person wanted that contact.

Maggie also pointed out that they couldn't be around each other every second of the day, as they had been for over 48 hours now. She said that they needed some mandated alone time, whether that was splitting up naturally for surveillance, doing activities by themselves, or a simple walk.

"It's probably worth picking up odd jobs if we're going to be staying places for longer," Bucky suggested. "That's time apart, and it'll avoid suspicion."

"Great idea," Maggie said. They'd slid sideways on the couch, so her head was now on the armrest and the side of his face was pressed against the back of the couch. "And… if we think of anything else or if anything else comes up, we'll discuss it then."

Bucky nodded. "Sounds like a plan. We're pretty good at talking about stuff." He winked at her and pinched her thumb, and she dug her toe into his ribs in retaliation.

"We had it pretty good before, all things considered," she said. "Healthy. We need that same respect and trust, but with like, exponentially more kissing."

Bucky nodded sagely. "You are the genius here," he agreed, and slipped forward to hover over her on the couch, their legs hopelessly tangled and their skin crackling wherever they touched.

"Don't forget it," Maggie grinned, her vision filled with his laughing grey-blue eyes and his dark hair. She'd thought that talking about why she'd run away would bring a pall over this new joy they'd found, that acknowledging the new complications in their relationship would make things more difficult. But it seemed all it took was a ten-minute conversation to ease her doubts. She could see some semblance of a future now, despite the fact that they were both on the run and still a little bit crazy.

Bucky closed the short distance to kiss her again, one hand sliding up her leg, over her hip and into the dip at her waist. Maggie looped one arm around his neck and wanted to kick herself – they could have been doing this ages ago. She bit Bucky's lip and grinned at his murmured grumble. She decided she wouldn't punish herself for not doing this sooner – it was happening now, and she was determined to enjoy it.

The next day they packed up their safehouse and got on a bus to Western Australia. They'd been fairly visible, what with the juggling and the dancing and the kissing that leaned towards publicly inappropriate on the dance floor, and they thought it was best to get moving just in case.

They sat at the back of the bus, Bucky by the window and Maggie in the aisle seat. They were surrounded by empty seats, as they'd made sure to book tickets for a bus that would have some passengers on it, but not too many.

It felt strange being in public, calling on her skills as the Wyvern to stay alert, when so much had changed between she and Bucky. It had only been a few days, but something about taking that extra step had changed something between them that couldn't be undone. Not that she wanted to undo it. Their fingers were linked and her left arm pressed against his right, offering each other comfort. But it wasn't like the lazy, exploratory touches they'd shared in the safehouse – now they were both on alert, albeit surreptitiously, monitoring the other inhabitants of the bus and the traffic outside the windows.

Maggie was reading a book, so Bucky was more alert than her, but that didn't stop her from counting how many times each passenger on the bus went to the bathroom. She'd already checked the bathroom for bugs and communication tech, but it paid to be safe.

Maggie stretched her neck and winced – she'd bruised her shoulder that morning, when she and Bucky had fallen off their safehouse couch like a couple of idiots. The bruise would heal soon enough, just as the hickies already had, but it was a reminder that they had to be careful with each other. They'd laughed that one off, but she'd noticed that Bucky was more careful than usual with his metal arm now, when it came to her.

Halfway into the trip, Maggie finished her book – a collection of biographies of female WWII spies and agents, including her Aunt Peggy – and followed Bucky's gaze out the window. It was beautiful here, red sandy deserts fading into thick bush, with the occasional glint of the cerulean blue ocean.

Maggie rested her head experimentally on Bucky's shoulder, and smiled at him when he turned to look down at her, eyebrows raised. "It's your birthday in a few days," she murmured.

Bucky huffed a laugh. "The big nine-eight."

"Mm, you're almost a centenarian. What do you want to do?"

"I don't mind," he said. "Scotch and steaks like last year, maybe. Why, did you have something in mind?"

"Always," she grinned. "You should know that by now."

"Oh, I do. Your mind is terrifying."

That made her laugh, and she knocked her knee against his. Out of the corner of her eye she saw another passenger walk past them to use the bathroom. It was that passenger's third visit, but it was a long trip and they were elderly, so she didn't suspect anything untoward.

"You know," Bucky said, playing with her fingers. "All things considered, you're handling this pretty well."

She rolled her head to look up at him, frowning. "Handling what?"

He squeezed her hand in answer. "Figuring out how you felt, talking about us… all of it. I'm sorry you had to figure it out on your own. When I started wanting something more I was sure that I was going to be asking for something that you didn't understand. But I think you've got a better handle on this than I do."

She grinned again. "Well there's a lot of information out there, once you start looking. But I think mostly it comes from practice, so I'm working on it. Did you have a lot of experience with relationships, before the war?"

Bucky ducked his head. "Uh… not serious ones, exactly."

"You're blushing!" Maggie exclaimed, and lifted her head from his shoulder so she could get the full effect.

"Well, it's… I was a different guy back then-"

"Not so different, surely," she smirked.

"Okay, maybe, but… I'm serious about this, Meg, about you. Maybe if I'd met you in a Brooklyn bar in 1940 it'd be a bit different, but-"

"Oh?" Maggie straightened and pressed her free hand to her chest. "Bucky Barnes, are you saying that you would seduce me and then leave me?"

He was really blushing now, and Maggie was thrilled. "Aw, Meg, c'mon-"

"I'm just teasing," she said, and leaned in to press a kiss to his pink cheek. "You menace, you. I understand." His blush faded a little, and he scowled at her. "We'll figure this out together," she smiled, and that made the scowl fade into a dopey look.

"You're lucky I like you," he huffed, and let her lay her head back on his shoulder. He dropped a kiss onto her hair, and Maggie felt warmth bloom in her chest and melt down to the tips of her toes.

They were on the run, and in hiding, but they'd lived like this for over a year now. With this new piece of happiness in their lives, Maggie could almost imagine that they had a future.

March 10th, 2015

Karratha, Australia

It had only been about a week since the night at the dance hall, but Maggie had resigned herself to the fact that she would forever be wanting to touch Bucky, and be touched in return.

She'd imagined worse fates for herself.

They'd been travelling most of the week, hopping from town to town on the west coast and spending every spare minute wrapped up in each other. They were still ostensibly taking things slow, but Maggie had discovered that she was a very impatient person, when it came to what her body wanted.

They'd settled for now in Karratha, a small city in an arid region, separated from the ocean by salt flats and mangrove forests. They'd found a relatively nice safehouse, a small place with one bedroom and a tin roof, and they were working on finding casual jobs that they could get away with fudging CVs for, and which would keep them from being too exposed to many strangers who would recognise their faces. Though they doubted that anyone would expect to find a former HYDRA assassin in a mining town in regional Western Australia.

But she wasn't going to think about any of that today, because today was Bucky's birthday.

Maggie woke up first, uncomfortable in the early-morning Australian heat. It didn't help that she and Bucky were sandwiched together on one bed, with his metal arm looped under her torso and her face pressed into his neck. Bucky had remarked yesterday that he was impressed by the fact that she didn't seem to need to breathe while asleep, as evident by how deeply she burrowed her face into his skin when they slept together.

They still hadn't gone much further than kissing and a lot of touching, and they'd set up two cheap bedframes with threadbare mattresses in their safehouse, but most nights in the past week had seen them falling asleep together, dropping off in each other's arms. They'd only had a few nightmares between them, and their routine for dealing with that didn't change much when they were in the same bed.

When she woke, Maggie took a moment to smile to herself, and then extricated herself from Bucky's neck, craning her head back to get a look at him. As was true of most people, he looked younger when asleep, his lips slightly parted and his face relaxed. Maggie had a flash-memory of a picture of him with closed eyes and a frozen face. She frowned, placing the memory: Project Leader Peters had given her a file with Bucky's face in it before the second time she fought him. It had had the name: Barnes.

Maggie sighed and brushed away the memory. It was a part of her now, settling in beside her other memories of fighting Bucky in a cage, flying through frozen air, and obeying orders from the Project Leader. But she wouldn't let it taint today, or the sight of Bucky sleeping peacefully, with his metal arm wrapped around her and his eyelashes brushing his cheeks.

"You get a good look?" Bucky mumbled, eyes still closed.

Maggie grinned. "I'm trying, but it's just… your face, you know? Hard to see anything good about it."

Bucky cracked an eye open at that, and the bleary glare he shot her made her laugh. "Please," he grumbled, "You can't resist thi-" he trailed off into a yawn, and Maggie blinked at his tonsils.

"It's true," she said, because it was his birthday, and when he was done yawning she rolled over, lying flat on his torso and propping her chin on his chest. Bucky grunted – an Adamantium-reinforced skeleton was a lot to have unceremoniously dropped on your body first thing in the morning – and lifted his head to look at her.

Maggie grinned at his sleepy features. "How's it feel to be ninety eight?"

Bucky blinked, and his flesh hand reached up to brush her cheek. "So far? Pretty great."

"Sap," she accused, and leaned up to kiss him. When she pulled away, she hesitated at the careful blankness on Bucky's face. "What?"

"Doll," he said, "It's my birthday, and I like you very much."

She squinted at his tone. "But…?"

"But," he shot her an apologetic look. "You have terrible morning breath."

Maggie's hand flew to her mouth, and she carefully sniffed her breath. She grimaced. "That's fair," she said. "Hang on." She rolled off Bucky and jogged to the bathroom to brush her teeth. She was embarrassed, sure, but the idea that she could have something so mundane as morning breath, and have someone like Bucky to tell her about it, was a novelty and a joy that she wasn't going to take for granted.

When she came back into the room she was smiling. Bucky was a little more awake now, trudging through the kitchen and making a cup of coffee. Maggie followed him into the kitchen and hopped up on the counter, watching him grumble at the glowing buttons on the kettle. She liked his half-awake morning rituals, the way he was cranky and barely legible until he had a cup of coffee. He'd apparently been like that in Brooklyn and during the war, too. She liked that about him, that despite all of HYDRA's brainwashing and training, Bucky Barnes was not a morning person.

Bucky caught her grinning at his grumbling, and he scowled at her. It didn't stop him from brushing his hand against her thigh as he walked to the sink, or leaning in for a kiss that tasted of coffee and toothpaste. That kiss turned into two, then three, and Bucky then grumbled that his coffee was cold, but he didn't turn away from her.

Maggie grinned against his mouth. "Are you ready for your presents?"

"Is it warm coffee?" he asked, ducking to kiss her jaw. Maggie laughed, and felt the shape of his smile against her skin.

"It can be," she said, then nudged him until she had enough space to hop down from the counter. She opened the fridge with a flourish, and gestured at the items inside: a half-full bottle of milk, a plastic bag with two premium porterhouse steaks, and a collection of vegetables that would go very well with a steak dinner. Bucky grinned and moved in to kiss her again, but she gave him a stern look, and retrieved the bottle of scotch she'd stashed on top of the fridge.

"Ta da!"

At that Bucky did kiss her, squashing the brown bottle between their chests. "Thank you, Meg," he said, when they came up for air. "It's perfect."

Maggie smiled, and reached up to snag the ends of his hair between her fingers. She bit her lip, and then said: "There's more, but we're going to have this for dinner and I wanted to show you now. Bucky, I…" she frowned, avoiding his gaze by focusing on her fingers in his hair.

"Meg?"

"I'm sorry that it's just me," she eventually bit out, and met his eyes. "I mean, I'm not sorry that I'm here, but… You're used to spending your birthdays surrounded by friends and family, and I'm sorry they're gone." She felt like she knew Bucky's whole family by now, he talked about them so often – his three little sisters, his hard-working mom and his busy dad. Bucky's eyes softened, sadness filtering into his gaze.

"And…" she took a breath. "I'm sorry you can't spend this birthday with Steve, either. I wish you could." That said, she put the scotch on the kitchen counter, watching the emotions play across Bucky's face. She didn't want to make him sad, but she'd needed to say it.

Eventually, Bucky's shoulders sagged a little and he leaned into her. Maggie took his weight, arms wrapping around his chest.

"Me too," he sighed into her hair. They didn't usually spend their time wishing, but Maggie had spent over a year getting to know Bucky, and she got the sense that he was used to having a lot of friends and family around him, and when he couldn't have that, he had Steve. But now he couldn't even have that, because it was just too dangerous.

"What do you think he'd say, if he was here?" Maggie murmured, pressing her palm against his heartbeat.

Bucky huffed a laugh. "Beyond all the obvious things?"

"Sure."

"Probably something corny. He likes birthdays."

Maggie pressed a kiss against his temple. "Let's do something for his birthday, then."

Bucky pulled back and smiled at her. It was a sad smile, but it was there. "That's a good idea." He heaved a sigh, and then squared his shoulders. "You said there were more presents?"

"Well don't look too excited about it," Maggie teased, but her tone was soft.

She'd wrapped his presents this time: a small box covered in dark blue wrapping paper, with an exuberant silver bow on top. Sitting on the creaky floorboards of the safehouse, Bucky raised an eyebrow at the bow and proceeded to carefully unwrap the box, folding the paper and setting it aside. Maggie supposed that habits born in the Depression didn't die easily. She sat cross legged on the floor across from him, and watched him inspect his presents. He peered at the first item, which looked like an oddly clunky set of binoculars, and finally looked up at Maggie for explanation.

"It's called a Virtual Reality Planetarium," she said, showing him how to turn on the device. "You look through the lens and it'll show you what's in the sky around you – there's a bunch of different modes, and you can look at closeups of planets, constellations, galaxies and nebulae. The images were all taken from the Hubble Telescope."

Bucky held the binoculars up to his eyes, and his mouth dropped open. "That's Jupiter!" he exclaimed, pointing straight ahead. Maggie dodged his finger, laughing.

"And," she added, "It also comes with an audio explanation of the things you're seeing." She showed him where to put in the headphones.

Bucky spent the next ten minutes staring through the lenses of his new present, pointing out where each planet was in the sky, and marvelling at the images. Maggie watched him, arms wrapped around her knees, grinning.

"You like it?" she asked, rather unnecessarily, because Bucky hadn't shut up since he'd looked through the thing.

Bucky peeled his eyes away from the lenses and looked at her. "Meg, this is the pinnacle of human invention."

She threw her head back and laughed. "Bucky, no!"

But he was shaking his head. "Nope, I'm convinced. Humanity can't do any better than this."

"Okay, you know there are actual telescopes, though? That you can use to look at the real thing?"

That took the wind out of his sails a little. "True."

She shook her head. "This is just a more portable option." She knew he still had the copy of El Hobbit she'd given him last year, despite the fact that they only had so much room in their bags to carry things from town to town. She'd been a little more weight-conscious this time around.

Bucky grinned and picked up the last part of his present, a metal and leather multi-purpose tool.

"Is this a very small telescope?" he asked, holding it up to the light.

"No," she laughed. "I, uh, built it."

He glanced up at that. "Oh?"

"Yeah, it's a custom-designed tool for your arm." She nodded at the limb in question, gleaming silver in the morning light. "Pretty much everything I could think of that your arm needs for regular upkeep can be done with that tool – it's got torque wrenches, soldering irons, brushes… you name it. A mirror, too, so you can see what you're doing." She trailed off, not sure how to read the dumbstruck expression on Bucky's face.

He swallowed, balancing the tool on his palm and looking from it to Maggie. "How long did it take you to make this?"

Maggie wiped her palms on her sweatpants. "I've been thinking about it for a while. Putting it together only took a couple of days, though, with the right workshop. Is it… okay?" She suddenly had the thought that Bucky's arm was a large source of trauma for him, and it might not have been the smartest idea to bring it up on his birthday.

But she was thinking that one moment, and the next she was wrapped up in Bucky's arms and his mouth was on hers, as he showed her just how okay it was. She climbed into his lap, grinning into the kiss. This was the first thing she'd designed since the fall of HYDRA that she'd been able to manufacture and put into use, and so far she was pretty satisfied with her payment.

When Bucky pulled away, his blue-grey eyes warm with affection, Maggie couldn't help herself:

"I guess it is a pretty handy tool."

Bucky froze. "Meg."

She grinned, her shoulders shaking with contained laughter. "What?"

He looked horrified. "You just ruined it." He shook his head as her laughter spilled out, making her clutch her stomach and fall backwards off his lap. "That was worse than your elephant joke."

"Hey now," she argued, sitting up. "That elephant joke was the first joke I told in twenty years, I think I did alright."

Bucky shook his head again. "So what's this thing called?"

Maggie cocked her head. "Uh, nothing yet. I didn't think about naming it."

"Hmm." He flipped the tool over and flicked out a few attachments. He found the precision knife, raised an eyebrow at it, and then kept inspecting it. After a moment, he froze. "Oh no."

"What?"

"Meg," he said, eyes darting back and forth. "I've just thought of a terrible name for it."

Maggie scooted closer and pressed her hands together. "Tell me!"

"A Swiss Army Knife."

She deflated a little. "Bucky…" She knew the name hadn't been in circulation in the war, but she was sure he'd heard of them by now.

"No, Meg-" he looked up at her, and a faint grin played about his mouth. "A Swiss Army Knife."

Maggie had to close her eyes at the sheer awfulness of that pun. She was just about to tell Bucky off for making a pun when he'd just complained about hers, when a thought occurred to her. Her eyes snapped open. "Bucky, you lost your arm in Switzerland."

His grin spread across his face.

"Bucky." She gaped at him. "That's terrible!"

"I know."

She opened and closed her mouth a few times, watching Bucky grin wickedly at her. She eventually settled for reaching over and thumping him on the shoulder. "You can't go making jokes like that when I think your arm is a touchy subject!"

He raised an eyebrow. "Well it is a touchy subject," he said, and prodded her with one metal finger. Maggie swatted it away, and he laughed. "I'm sorry, Meg. But I don't know, it got in my head. And if I don't laugh about it, then…"

She softened at his remorse, and at the shadow of seriousness that fell across his face. "I get it," she said, and reached for his metal hand. She brought it to her mouth and planted a kiss on the cool metal. "Swiss Army Knife it is."

Bucky leaned in until their foreheads pressed together, noses brushing. Maggie stroked her thumb across his metal palm and listened to the faint whir of machinery.

"I almost feel like you don't deserve the rest of your birthday, after that," she eventually murmured.

"That's probably fair," Bucky chuckled, watching the juxtaposition of their fingers, metal and flesh. "Wait, there's more? Meg, don't spoil me."

She laughed. "Well we have to go outside for the next part."

"Terrible," Bucky said. "Worst news of the day. I can't do this outside." At that he wrapped an arm around Maggie's middle and pulled her forward, rolling onto his back and bringing her with him. He let out an exaggerated oof when she fell on him, and she retaliated by digging her elbow into his ribs even as she kissed him, her hair tumbling around them.

They lay like that for a while, kissing in a tangle of limbs, surrounded by Bucky's presents and carefully folded wrapping paper. When his arm let out a particularly loud whir, Maggie broke away with a laugh.

"You're a menace," she breathed, pushing Bucky's hair affectionately off his face. "Come on, we've got outside plans."

"Don't you know I'm ninety eight? I'm too old to be going outside." But he let her pull him to his feet.

"You'll like this, I promise. Go get dressed."

"Are you sure you want me to?" He asked, winking over his shoulder as he strode toward the bathroom. She threw a pillow at his head.

++++++++++