Your parents' voices only faded into the distance once the two of you had turned the corner. You couldn't help periodically glancing over your shoulder, convinced that you'd eventually catch sight of a sprinting, fiercely angry, middle-aged bitch wielding a modestly heeled shoe in one hand while her golden crucifix pendant slapped against her sunken chest. Your mother would make a damn good horror movie villain.
Bucky was quiet. You didn't sense any anger from him, he wasn't squeezing your hand particularly tight or stomping his boots against the ground any harder than usual, he just seemed deep in thought. Was this... progress?
He unlocked the street-level door and hoisted both of your suitcases up the stairs, disappearing into the darkness at the top before you'd even had a chance to cross the threshold. By the time you'd made it into the apartment, your clothes were littered all over the place and he was yanking a pair of your best underwear up over his jeans.
"The hell are you doing?"
"I like these."
"Yeah? It's a shame you've stretched them beyond all recognition, then."
"I didn't mean on you."
You gave him an unimpressed frown and moved to snatch them off him, but he was a slippery little fucker when he wanted to be, making you chase him around the front room for a good ten minutes before you managed to get a decent grip on your property. They were pretty much unusable by this point, but it was a matter of principle.
You were pretty shocked at how good a mood he seemed to be in. You'd expected fireworks, maybe an hour-long tirade about how much of a fuckin' asshole your dad was and how he should'a laid him out on his own lawn, but it almost seemed like he'd forgotten the whole ordeal. Maybe he didn't see the old man as enough of a challenge for a full-on brawl? Or maybe he'd finally realised that it just wasn't worth it? Whatever the reason was, you weren't about to question it.
You debated properly unpacking all your clothes but eventually reasoned that you were moving soon, so there was really no point putting the extra strain on Bucky's rickety old wardrobe that could barely manage the weight of his three t-shirts and two pairs of jeans. Instead, you spent the next couple of hours tangled up with him on the couch. It was so nice just being able to relax and decompress after such a shitty situation, usually you'd be arguing or cleaning his wounds. Hopefully this would be the new norm.
You were slowly drifting off, letting the stress of the day melt from your body, when Buck unceremoniously jolted you back to consciousness by jumping up and proclaiming his next great idea.
"Alright," he started to pace, "there's gotta be somewhere nice in this stinking town. I'm gonna take you out on a proper date."
"A proper date?"
"Yeah, somewhere fancy. S'about time I treat you how you deserve to be treated."
"You don't have to do that, Buck. I'm happy with takeout on the couch."
"I know you are, but you gotta let me spoil you sometimes."
A warm, sleepy smile spread across your face. "Sounds good."
"You're damn right it does," he reached out an arm, abruptly dragging you off the couch and towards the bedroom, "c'mon, let's get you dressed."
***
You kept trying to guess your destination from the route Bucky was taking but you came up blank, the only time you'd ever been to this part of town was when you were fourteen and your dad brought you along to collect a life-sized, wooden virgin Mary statue that he'd bought from a seedy guy at church. The creepy fucking thing stood at the bottom of the garden for years before termites finally hollowed her out and made her crumble like Sodom and Gomorrah.
With every corner you turned your stomach tightened with a mixture of excitement and dread. You were looking forward to the evening, sure you were, but you were also struggling to forget that the last time he took you for a night out, he ended up leaving in a cop car. No way could you deal with that shit again.
He pulled you into his side as you were walking. "We're nearly there."
"Will you tell me where we're going now?"
"Nope."
"If this is another dive bar I swear to god-"
"You really think so little of me?" You shot him a side-eye. "Alright, fair enough."
As you reached the last corner, he scuttled behind you and placed his hands over your eyes, carefully nudging your legs forward with his knees. You asked him if these theatrics were really necessary. He insisted they were. You were only blind for a couple of steps before the dramatic reveal and, to his credit, you did let slip an audible gasp.
It was a little Italian restaurant, tucked between some vague office buildings but lit up like a white-gold Christmas tree. A small canopy stretched over two wooden tables sitting on the cobbled sidewalk, both occupied by smiling couples nursing huge glasses of inky purple wine. As Bucky took you by the hand and led you to the door, you realised that the inside of the place was barely big enough to seat ten people, most of those seats being already occupied while two smartly dressed waiters rapidly buzzed between their customers, the bar and the kitchen door.
You spotted an empty table tucked in the corner, illuminated by candlelight. Bucky looked back and gave you a smile as one of the waiters led you over. He'd really nailed it, the place was beautiful.
As soon as Bucky's butt hit the seat, a lengthy wine list was wrestled into his hand. You tried to smother a chuckle as he scanned his eyes over it and tried his best to look knowledgeable. He eventually gave you a wink and pointed to a random name about halfway down the list. Smart move, avoid coming across too cheap but also avoid risking a hundred dollars on some potentially nasty grape juice. You knew there was a reason you liked him.
The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a minute, taking in your surroundings. Maybe it was more than a minute, you weren't too sure, you'd gotten a little lost in your thoughts.
"What's up?" Bucky snapped you back to reality. "That's your deep thinking face."
"Oh, nothing, I was just-"
You were about to brush his question off with your usual, automatic response, the kind that pivoted the conversation away from your feelings, but the genuine sincerity in his face made you catch yourself. You had no reason to hide yourself from him.
"It's strange, I guess, but I just keep forgetting that we've only properly known each other for a few weeks. It feels like we've lived a lifetime together."
"That can't be a bad thing though, right?" He reached a hand over the table and placed it over yours. "I wouldn't complain about a lifetime with you."
Your lips curled into a wide smile and you interlaced your fingers with his. "Me neither. I'd just really like the next lifetime to be a little less stressful."
"I'll do my best to behave."
"I'd appreciate it."
He smirked and leant back, nodding at the waiter as he placed the wine down on the table and half-filled both of your glasses. His eyes flicked back to yours and he chuckled deeply as he took a drink with his free hand, wincing slightly before swallowing, his expression telling you that he'd taken a fat loss on the wine list lottery. You braved a sip, it tasted like ass. The two of you fell into laughter together.
Your food arrived and you decided to finally address what was on your mind. You'd been meaning to bring up the events of the morning on the walk over, but you'd struggled to find the right moment or come up with wording that wasn't unbelievably patronising. Well done for not punching my dad, by the way. Really proud of you kiddo. Maybe not.
"I also wanted to say," you pulled your plate towards you and swallowed harshly, "what you did today, it really meant a lot.'
"What, wearing your underwear?" You gave him a playful scowl. "Sorry, go on."
"I know sometimes you struggle to control this self-destructive streak, but you walked away from a fight today. I've never seen you do that before."
His eyes dropped and his smile slowly faded. Shit, had you upset him? That was about as diplomatically as you could have worded it, maybe you should've just kept quiet. You were about to attempt a swift topic shift when he finally piped up.
"It hardly makes up for all the other times, though."
"Maybe not, but what you do now matters a hell of a lot more than what you did in the past."
He was staring at your hands, your words obviously not making a dent in the spiral he'd suddenly found himself in. "Y'know, before you came back, the stuff I did... it was some kind of miracle that I survived."
"Don't say that."
"It's true. It was more than a self-destructive streak, I really just had nothing to live for."
Jesus, that knocked you back. You felt like you'd been winded. The worst part was that he didn't even look upset, he'd just fallen into this heart-breaking expression of sunken acceptance. You'd never seen him like this before.
You reached out and squeezed his hands hard. "Things are good now, and they'll be good from now on. That's what matters."
He nodded, looking back up at you and forcing a smile. In that moment it became incredibly clear to you how important it was to get away from this town and start again. Granted, a simple change of scenery probably wouldn't be enough to completely disconnect him from the guilt of his past, but it would at least make it all seem a little further away. You just knew that you were desperate to help him, and you were willing to try anything.
You gently tried to dig a little deeper into the subject but he swiftly pivoted once he realised how upset you were, his usual cheery demeanour reappearing as he tucked into his meal. It was almost impossible to get more information out of Bucky once he'd stonewalled.
The rest of the evening was lovely and calm. He flagged down the waiter and ordered two beers after the sewer water he'd ordered had all gone, and the two of you quickly discovered that the restaurant took their 'bottomless breadsticks' promise a little too seriously, all but force-feeding you by hand to get them gone.
You just couldn't shake the feeling that something was hanging over you.
You knew you'd have to talk to him more about it soon, even if you didn't particularly want to. It was his face as he said it. You never wanted to see that again.
