This dress was worth every penny for this reaction alone. She grins at him. "What, this old thing? I just threw it on."

She squeezes his hand back, completely lost in watching the way he's watching her, in that sunrise grin and the warmth in his slate-blue eyes. It's a second before she remembers anyone else is even there, and only manages it because T'Challa coughs, a little pointedly.

"Sorry I'm late," she says, probably to T'Challa, but she's still looking at Bucky.

He's here. He's him. He's fine. He's better than he's been in a long, long time, and her heart feels like it might burst from everything that's filling it up.