nerves_of_ice | [oom] training ground

Today, for the first time in a while, Nakia was home and had a little free time. It had been so nice to spend some time with her friend, to wander the marketplace and shop and chat and gossip. Nakia's excited about the outreach program, as she should be, but she's just as invested in Sharon's stories about everything that's been happening in her absence.

So Sharon's step is light and her shoulders are relaxed as she heads back down to the hut by the lake. She doesn't break stride as she catches sight of the familiar figure under the shade tree, only detours, slightly, hitching her ever-present tote up more comfortably onto her shoulder as she comes near, teasing. "Hey, stranger."

"Hey, yourself," he says, closing the journal on his index finger and smiling up at her. "Did you have a good time with Nakia?"

"Really nice."

She steps under the shade of the tree and leans down to run her fingers lightly over his hair, fond. "She said to say hi. Whatcha doing?"

"I'm glad." He tips his head back a little into her touch. "Hi back, then, if you see her again before I do."

Bucky raises the journal a little and lets it rest on his thigh. "Trying to tease out some of the messy memories. Still slow going, but."

Her fingers run gently over his scalp, like she might be able to help him tease some out. "Any luck so far?"

"Bits and pieces." He holds still under her hand. "Still, it's something."

"Well, don't let me interrupt."

She bends down, softening her knees to get low enough so she can press a kiss to the top of his head. "How about some coffee? Maybe that'll jog the old memory a bit."

"No, it's okay, I'm about ready for a break," he assures her. "Coffee sounds good, though."

He closes the journal and clips the pen to the back of it before getting to his feet. "Got any big plans for the afternoon?"

"Not especially." Not for the afternoon, anyway. But it's supposed to be a beautiful night.

She stands back to give him room to get up. "Why, do you have something in mind?"

"Maybe." He moves to walk beside her as they start toward the hut. "You're not still sore from the fight in Gotham, are you?"

She shakes her head, sending her ponytail swishing over the nape of her neck. "Not even a little."

The bruises have all faded by now, too, which is a relief. Even when they hadn't hurt anymore, she hadn't exactly liked him seeing them.

"Good." He glances over at her. "I thought, if you still wanted to do some training together... no time like the present."

Bucky lets his words trail off there and opens the door for her.

She meets his sidelong glance with one of her own before she steps into the hut, but doesn't answer right away. Instead, she thinks for a moment, as she slips her tote of her shoulder and sets it at the foot of the bed.

Only then does she turn to look at him, studying him. "I know it was your idea before," she murmurs. "But, baby – are you sure?"

He might have changed his mind. Something that seemed like a good idea when she was about to head into a wildly unbalanced fight might not seem so hot in the calm light of day. "You know I won't hold it against you if you change your mind."

"I know. But I'm sure." He sets the journal on the little shelf where he keeps them now and turns to face her.

"That doesn't mean I might not need you to cut me some slack from time to time. But if you want to do this... then so do I."

She comes close enough to put her arms loosely around his waist, so she cap tip her head back and look up into his face. "Deal," she says, and smiles up at him.

"But I'll make that coffee, first."

He smiles back and leans down to give her a quick kiss. "Sounds good."

She pushes up on her toes as he starts to straighten, just to extend that quick kiss into something a little sweeter. "You're the best," she murmurs, when it breaks. "Thank you for doing this for me."

This, and so many other things. She kisses him again, then lets go and moves over to where he keeps the pitcher of water for the coffee.

He gives her ponytail a light tug. "Hey. You are who you are, and that's not going to change," he murmurs. "And it shouldn't. So the least I can do is help you be the best you can possibly be."

He goes to take down the two mugs from the shelf while she starts the coffee.

"Only you would think that's the least you could do," she tells him, amused, measuring out the coffee as she waits for the water to heat.

"But there's no doubt you can help me get better."

"Well, it is," he says, mildly.

It's been a little while since he's gotten the chance to talk to Steve, or Natasha, or even Sam Wilson. He knows, he knows it won't do anyone any good if he screws everything up by leaving Wakanda too early, but there's no evading the guilt that washes over him in waves from time to time.

"I'll do everything I can."

"I know you will, baby."

Of that, she has absolutely zero doubt. She pours the steaming water over the grounds, stirs the mass together, and sets the timer before coming back over to him. "So, did you have some kind of plan in mind?"

"Plan's a strong word for it," he drawls. "But I put together a couple of things and a space to practice, at least to start."

"Sounds like plenty."

When the timer goes off, she heads back to the French press to slowly depress the plunger, then fills the two mugs. She hands one to Bucky, then doctors her own with milk and sugar.

"It'll do for a start, anyway." He takes a sip of the coffee she hands him and smiles. "Thanks."

Bucky studies her for a second. "Is there anything in particular you'd want to work on?"

"Yes."

No use in denying it; he knows she's been thinking about this. Even more since the rumble at the Gotham docks. "You know I have good technique. But I need to develop a broader style. Something more adaptable."

Her lips quirk, wry. "Something a little more suited to being outnumbered."

Bucky nods. "Something a little more 'anything goes', blended from multiple fighting styles," he suggests. "You're really good with strikes and force and even in the clinch, but --"

He shifts the coffee cup to his left hand and reaches out to touch her shoulder, very gently, remembering.

"-- you could stand to be faster. For one thing."

"No kidding."

She could never be as fast as him, for obvious reasons, but she could be faster than she is. Which brings her to another point, one she hadn't wanted to say at the time, on their way to Gotham, because he knew it as well as she did.

But it should be said. "And I'm not even as fast right now as I was before. You know it, I know it. I haven't been training regularly."

If she's being honest, she had no business being in that fight with the Twelve Brothers in Silk. "Things are so peaceful here, but I... can't lose my edge, Bucky."

"I know," he murmurs. "We'll fix it. I'll help. I promise."

"I don't know what I'd do if I lost that."

It would mean losing herself, even more. Losing herself completely. No more Agent Carter, let alone Agent 13.

And she's just not ready to think about giving it up.

She nods and sips at her coffee, then smiles at him, crooked. "Damn straight we will."

"You won't have to find out." He moves his hand up from her shoulder, brushing his fingers through her hair, then pulls back and switches his coffee back into his right hand before taking another swallow.

He can hear the echo of the murmur from his memory as he tells her the same thing he'd said to Natasha, then to Yelena, years ago, his voice just a little rough.

"By the time we're through, you'll be better than good."

She tips her head into his touch as she sips at her coffee, her eyes bright and warm as she watches him. "I like the sound of that."

And she likes even more that he's saying it on his own initiative; that he wants to do this.

She doesn't care how slow they need to take it. Just this is like opening a window and breathing in the fresh air after being stuck inside for a month. "I'll get changed, okay?"

"Okay." He lifts his mug to her and heads for the door. "Come on out when you're ready. I'll show you where we'll be."

She takes a scalding gulp of her coffee, then sets the mug down and heads over toward her tote, stripping her shirt off along the way. Once dressed in light, comfortable workout gear, she ties her hair up into a ponytail and retrieves her coffee to finish it before heading outside to blink in the sun.

"Okay, let's go."

He sets his empty mug at the back of the hut to wash later and tips his head toward the woods. “This way.”

Bucky absently checks the angle of the sun as they walk. “Plenty of time. I figured it’d be best to have somewhere the kids weren’t likely to run across us.”

"Probably a good idea."

She walks easily at his side, stretching her shoulders and back as they go. "They might think it's a new game."

“They might. And it’s not like I haven’t…” He trails off there for a few seconds before saying, “But I don’t think it would be a good idea. The tribes have their own training for those who want to fight. It’s not something I’d…interfere with.”

He ducks through into a small trail, holding the brush out of the way for her.

"Haven't what? Worked with kids before?"

She knows he has: at the Y, certainly, before everything. And – well, whether the girls in the Black Widow program could be rightfully called kids is a question too complicated for her to muddle through just now.

“Yeah.” He sounds thoughtful about it. “Although it was different then. Both ways. But still. That’s not how these kids see me, not really, and I … it’s okay that they don’t. Come through here.”

He pulls a stand of bushes at the side of the trail open for her, revealing the short distance to the neat little clearing beyond. It’s obvious that he’d spent some time getting rid of brush and branches and checking the ground underfoot to make sure it was ready.

"I get it." These kids see him as a playmate, not a teacher. She loves that about them, and about him, too.

She ducks through the brush and studies the clearing. "This'll work."

“Figured it’d do to start with, anyway. There’s some basic equipment in the chest over there. Wraps, padding, that kind of thing. No weapons - yet, anyway.”

He looks over at her. “Ready?”

"Uh-huh."

Always. Even when she's rusty. Sharon Carter has never had a day when she couldn't go from relaxed to time to throw down in 0.01 seconds.

She bounces a little on the balls of her feet, and tries to keep from feeling too giddy about it all. He still has some reservations. She's got to remember that. "You?"

Edited 2022-09-18 13:47 (UTC)

She’s trying to hide her excitement, but it’s so completely obvious that he can’t help but feel a wash of fondness as he looks at her. They should have done this long ago. He should have done this long ago.

“Yes,” he promises. “Come on. Stretches first. You’re going to need to be as limber as possible in just a few minutes.”

She nods and moves into a flow of warm-up stretches, unself-conscious as she works her back and shoulders, loosens her neck, coaxes her tight hamstrings and calves into relaxing.

Her blood is beating bright through her, and she can't quell her excitement, no matter how much she tries to remember he's doing this mostly just so she doesn't get her ass killed on some mission down the line. "Better," she says, rolling her shoulders.

Not perfect until she's warmed up, but it'll do.

"Sparring first," he says. "Let me get a look at your technique in a little different way this time."

It's very, very wry, but his gaze is steady and serious. "Then I've got a few ideas. So when you're ready... come on."

She's gone up against Bucky exactly twice: once with everything she had and none of it anywhere near good enough, and once where he'd seemingly wanted to teleport out of the ring rather than spar with her.

So maybe it shouldn't surprise her that when she steps into range and tells herself to throw a strike, her body doesn't quite listen to her the way it usually does.

In fact, she hesitates. It's such an alien experience that she blinks at herself, bewildered, like someone who had reached to open a door and has instead found that the knob came off in their hand. It's enough of a stutter that, if it were a real fight, she'd already have lost.

She looks surprised, which makes both of them, because the last thing he was expecting was for her to freeze. Bucky stares at her, startled.

"... do you want to defend first?" he asks.

"No, I – "

She doesn't have any idea how to end that sentence. Lifting her hand, she frowns at it, like maybe the fault lies somewhere in her skeleton or nerves or muscles. "Weird."

He's not sure of the why, or not exactly, but he's pretty sure of the reason. It's because it's him, somehow. Is she worried about him? Is she scared of him, deep down at the level of self-preservation? Something in between?

Bucky takes a careful step closer and holds both hands out to her. "Got an idea," he says. "Give me your hands, baby. Dance with me."

She puts her hands in his with no sign of the hesitation of earlier and steps closer as her mouth quirks, wryly amused.

"That seems like the opposite of what we're supposed to be doing."

"Well, it's a different kind of dance," he tells her, with a wry smile. Bucky closes his fingers around hers and holds on, then starts to guide her hands in his through the pattern of a kata - with no force to any of the feigned blows, only the controlled, practiced movement of blows and blocks.

He's watching like a hawk for any resistance, for any sign that she wants to pull away.

Her brow furrows, but once she realizes what he's up to, she relaxes, shoulders all the way down through her hips and knees, lets him guide her through the motions. Together, they sketch a pattern of strikes and blocks, but none of it gets anywhere near either of them, and there's no force behind it.

The relaxation's a good sign, he feels. Slowly, steadily, he begins to pick up the pace, and as he does he loosens his grip on her fingers but doesn't let go.

The motions become more fluid, more organic, but he doesn't quite let her go, which she appreciates. She uses the time to ground herself in her body, in her hips and core; in her breath. Slowly, her shoulders begin to loosen.

"There it is," he murmurs, as she relaxes into herself. "There you are, Sharon. I'm ready when you are. We've got all the time we need."

"Are you sure?"

She knows, she knows: he offered. But Bucky offers a lot of things that aren't necessarily what's best for him, if he thinks it'll help someone else. "A hundred percent?"

No tension reappears as she murmurs her questions; she just meets his gaze with her own, full of steady trust and just a hint of concern. "You... want to do this?"

What a loaded question. But it's important. "Not just because it's something I asked for?"

"I'm sure." Quiet, but absolutely certain. "I've been thinking about it since. Even before I started getting this place ready. I was pretty sure you weren't going to bring it up again, either, so I had time to be sure."

There's no evasion in his glance, equally steady on hers. "You don't have to. If you're scared of me, or for any other reason, you don't, I swear. We can find another way to make sure you're at the top of your game. But if you do... I'm here."

Of course she wasn't going to bring it up again. Of course he knew she wouldn't. "I'm not scared of you."

She can say that with absolute certainty. She has a healthy respect for his abilities and she never wants to take a hit like the one she took in Berlin from him ever again, but she could no more be scared of Bucky than of her own parents. "There's no one I trust more."

She breathes deep, nods. "I do. I want to."

One more breath, and a smile tugs onto her lips. "Let's do it. Me and you."

Edited 2022-09-18 15:22 (UTC)

He smiles back, just a little - but it's warm and relaxed. Bucky squeezes her fingers, then loosens his hold so she can pull free.

"Okay, baby. Let's see what you've got."

She grins at him, and falls into stance.

This time there's no hesitation, only focus and discipline. She tests her range, mixes up her strikes, takes angles where she can. The running analysis in the back of her mind reminds her to slip in an out of his range, if she can, not to stay in one spot long enough to get clocked.

It goes against her preferred style, but she can do it.

He's careful to keep his own strikes pulled, but he throws them; careful as well to keep his speed notched down from full, but fast enough to make her work for it. As they spar, he makes mental notes about things they can work on, and which of them they need to work on first.

"Pretty textbook," he observes, as he blocks a knee and counters with a strike to her center.

Her knee comes up swiftly to block his punch; when her foot comes down, it's to take an angle so she can send a shovel punch to his ribs. "It would be."

She's had the best instructors, and she'd trained with single-minded discipline. In a street fight, she'd be able to take almost anyone up to her same level of skill.

But it's not as adaptable as she wants to be.

The expected response would be another block and twist away. Instead, he twists in, moving inside the angle of her punch so that it skids across his back instead and drops to his knee, bringing his hand down on her thigh just above her knee in a blow that would have broken the joint if he'd put force behind it.

"So what we need to work on," he says, "is you becoming so comfortable in your body that you can react to the unexpected with the same trained skill by instinct, rather than pattern."

"That would be a good start."

She folds her arm and drops, elbow-first, in a strike that would crack his skull – if this were a real fight, and if he weren't a basically unbreakable super soldier.

He uses his knee as a fulcrum and pivots, ducking to take the blow on his shoulder and tucking into a roll that brings him up on his feet a short distance away from her.

"That'd have hurt," he approves. "But like you said before, what would that have done to your mobility?"

"Against one, go to the ground," she says. Her chest is lightly slicked with sweat, and rising and falling in light, rapid breaths. "More of a problem if there's more than one opponent."

"So here's what I suggest." She's showing the effort, but not exhausted or anywhere near. Besides, she needs to build up her stamina, too.

"For a while we do a regular routine. Stretching, sparring, then a series of tumbling and acrobatics and new moves from different styles for you. Once those come naturally, we'll start mixing them in and changing things up. A lot."

She nods and lifts a hand to swipe sweat-sticky hair off her forehead. "Sounds good."

Sounds like a challenge, which she needs, and which he's well-suited to give.

Bucky grins at her. "Come on then, Carter. Time for calisthenics."

She groans in mock exasperation, but follows him through the series without complaint. Calisthenics. She hasn't done any in a long time, and she's definitely going to be feeling it later.

But it feels inexpressibly good to be moving her body the way she knows she can; to extend it and stretch her muscles and work them just past the point of endurance, so that the next time she can go a little longer, a little harder.

The series ends with a solid minute of burpees, and Sharon stays flat on the ground once it's up, her chest heaving. "Wow, I can't believe I let you do this to me."

She can't believe she let herself get this rusty, but that's beside the point.

"What's the saying? Careful what you wish for?" He goes to the chest and pulls out a couple of the water bottles he'd stashed there earlier, along with a soft cloth that'll work as a towel, and carries them over to her.

"Here," he offers.

She sticks her tongue out at him and rolls up to sitting to accept a water bottle and the cloth. Cracking the first, she takes a deep swallow of water to parch her dry throat as she wipes the sweat from her chest and neck with the latter.

"I hope you're having fun," she teases.

“You know, I kind of am,” he admits, sitting down across from her with his own bottle.

"Good."

It might be something she needs to do, but she wants it to be something they both enjoy.

Sharon grins over at him. "Me, too."

“I’m glad.” He flashes her a quick, mischievous grin.

“We’ll see if you still say the same thing in the morning.”

"Well, we can't go too hard today," she says, disingenuously. Her eyes are laughing.

"I had some plans for tonight, and they'll get ruined if you tire me out too much."

“Plans?” He gives her a curious look.

“I figured you were off the hook for the rest of today anyway,” he adds. “I was going to suggest you soak in the bathtub up at the Citadel.”

"That does sound nice."

She may even take him up on it, if she has time.

His curious look gets a bland glance in return. "Well, I guess it depends on whether or not you have plans already."

He glances pointedly around the clearing and back at her. “This was the only thing I had planned for today.”

"Okay."

She shifts her foot forward, nudging him with the toe of her light sneaker. "How about a date night, then?"

He leans over to wrap his fingers loosely around her ankle and smiles.

"I like the sound of that."

"Great."

She smiles back at him and tips up her bottle for another long swallow of water. "But I'm going to need you to vacate the hut for about an hour beforehand."

He chuckles. "Am I supposed to go anywhere in particular?"

"Wherever you like," she says magnanimously. "Why don't you go to the lab and give Steve or Nat a call?"

"That's a good idea." He tries not to bother them too much, but ... it has been a while.

"It'll give Shuri a chance to tweak a couple of things while I'm there, if she wants."

"I'm sure she'd like that. And they would, too."

She empties her water bottle and caps it again. "Okay, coach, anything else you got for me today?"

"Not today," he says. "I meant it when I said I thought we should see how you're feeling tomorrow." A little wryly, he adds, "Don't get me wrong, I know you're definitely capable and all -- but we don't want to overdo on day one. As soon as I'm sure what your current level looks like, then we'll start pushing the boundaries. Hard."

"I know, baby."

She pushes herself to her feet and holds out her hand to help him up, too. "And you know I love a challenge. But I'm just as happy to call it here today."

He lets her help him to his feet and keeps hold of her hand once he’s standing.

“Just so you know, you did good,” he murmurs.

She lifts her chin and gives him a pert look. "I know," she teases.

Even rusty, she can still hold her own. "Why don't we head back and get cleaned up?"

“Figured you did,” he says, peaceably, “but thought I should say it anyway.”

He tugs at her hand and starts to walk with her back out of the clearing and down the trail.

"It's always nice to hear."

She laces her fingers with his and walks easily at his side, enjoying the way her muscles feel, how her body feels; enjoying the flush of warmth and light sheen of sweat on her skin. "You did good, too. Just like always."

"I don't mind saying I was a little nervous," he admits. "It's been a long time since I was anyone's trainer."

"It's okay."

She squeezes his fingers and swings their hands gently back and forth between them as they stroll. "I was, too."

For different reasons, but she'd still felt the ripple of anxiety running through her. "But you're a good trainer."

Amusement flickers in his glance. "We'll see if you still say that in the morning."

"We'll know you're a good trainer for sure if I start swearing at you in the morning," she says, without much concern behind it.

Her smile is crooked and warm and sweet as she looks over at him. "Thanks, baby. Really. It means a lot."

He squeezes her hand and raises it to press a brief kiss to her fingers. "Thanks for being patient with me."

"Pretty sure it's the other way around," she teases, gently.

"But you're welcome."

He gives her a sideways smile and makes a soft, noncommittal sound, and leaves it at that.

It's still just the two of them when they walk out of the woods and approach the hut. "Want another cup of coffee?" he asks. "Or are you thinking to head back up to the Citadel and get cleaned up there?"

Not that she's not welcome to use anything he has, but he also knows that his setup's a little simpler than what she's got available to her. It's designed to be; it's what he still needs, right now, although he also knows that T'Challa would do more, if he asked.

"Oh, I'll stick around," she says, blithely. "Why don't I make another pot, and you take the first shower? I can clean up while you're at the lab."

"I was kind of thinking that'd work the other way around," he says, slowly, "but I can, if you'd rather."

"Then we're all set," she says, and leans up to kiss his cheek as they come in sight of the hut. "Enjoy your shower."

He's still not entirely sure how she turned that around so neatly, but forbears to argue. Bucky ducks inside long enough to grab a change of clothes, then goes around the back to the outdoor shower stall.

She smiles to herself and heads back to the shelf where he keeps the coffee and water, humming a little under her breath as she starts the process over again.

About five minutes later he wanders back inside, still finger-combing his damp hair, and gives her a sweet smile. "All set," he reports, a little amused. "Is the coffee ready yet?"

"Just."

She picks up the mug she'd poured for him and comes over to offer it, then leans up to kiss his clean, warm, cheek. "Did the shower feel good?"

"It was pleasant, sure." He takes the cup in his left hand - carefully - and slips his right arm around her waist. "There's plenty of hot water left for you, though."

"Okay."

She doesn't make any motions towards leaving for the shower, though, just leans in and breathes deep before pressing a gentle kiss to his bare, slightly damp neck. He smells clean and warm and perfect and she's smiling when she leans back again. "Come sit under the shade tree with me while we have our coffee?"

"Gladly." He waits for her to pull away to claim her own cup, then opens the door for her.

"Wonder what the winter'll be like here," he muses, as they walk toward the tree.

"Me too. Rainy, maybe?"

It has to rain sometime. The weather is a little more temperate in the jungle region of Wakanda, but here the weather's been sunny and hot and clear most days. "I guess if we miss snow, we could always go visit M'Baku."

"There's that." As they reach the tree, Bucky holds out his hand to take her cup so she doesn't have to balance it while sitting down. "Assuming you can get away long enough."

She hums agreement and sits, then reaches to take her cup back.

"Halloween's soon," she points out. "Did you tell the kids about it?"

"Not yet." He passes over her cup and takes a seat beside her. "I thought maybe I - we - should talk to Elder Ayemi about it first. Just in case there's some custom we don't know about."

"Hmm."

She shifts to press her knee against his as she leans back against the tree. "Good point. I hope not, though. That would be really fun."

"There probably isn't," he reassures her. Bucky rests his right hand lightly on her knee. "And even if there is, as long as we make it clear this was just a fun thing from where we grew up, it might be like novelty entertainment, or something."

"Exactly."

She sets her free hand over his and strokes her thumb lightly back and forth over his knuckles."And what kid doesn't like dressing up and getting candy?"

"You know, we could float it to Nakia and Shuri as an outreach activity. Cultural exchange." He gives her a quick smile.

She laughs at that, clear and warm.

"Perfect. They'll be all for it."

"That's probably a better idea anyway." He likes it better than trying to explain the whole thing to the elders himself, that's for sure. Bucky takes a long swallow of coffee, savoring the taste.

"Of course, we won't be able to get costumes as good as Bar's," she muses, and reaches up to pat the top of his head where that hat had been.

He rolls his eyes at her and clutches his coffee a little tighter. "I just remember all the tea that came along with that one."

After a considered pause, he muses, "But your ears were cute."

"I liked the ears," she chuckles. "And the tail."

She tugs lightly at a lock of his hair. "And I liked your costume, too."

He tips his head a little towards her, quietly amused. "Is that so?"

"Uh-huh."

His hair is still a little damp; she flicks the tip of his nose with the end of the lock she has a hold of. "And drink up your coffee. Otherwise, I'm sending you off to the lab before you get a chance to finish it."

He wrinkles his nose at her. "Oh, yeah? I guess if you're in a hurry to get rid of me..."

"I'm not falling for that," she laughs, and ruffles her fingers through his damp hair. "Bottoms up, Barnes."

He chuckles and, humoring her, tips up his coffee cup to finish off the last of it, then gets to his feet.

"Okay, okay, I'm going."

She puts up her hand for him to help her up, imperious except for the way her eyes are dancing. "Say hi to everyone for me."

He lifts her to her feet with thoughtless ease, then leans in to give her a quick kiss.

"Will do," he promises. "See you later. In, uh, an hour or two?"

She does some quick mental calculation – that should put them just past sunset. "Perfect," she agrees, and kisses him back.

"See you then."

He gives her an amused grin and sets off in the direction of the Citadel, swinging by the hut on the way to drop off the mug.

She waits until he's over the edge of the little hill before she heads towards the hut – not to take a shower, like he might be thinking, but to open the door to the Bar.

There are some things there she needs to retrieve.

Shuri has the music cranked up loud when he pokes his head around the entrance from the curving hallway and is dancing from one foot to another at her workbench. Bucky stays where he is until she turns enough to see him, at which point she drops what she's working on and bounds over to him.

"Yesss!" she cries, seizing him by the right hand and dragging him after her. "You are exactly who I need!"

"Yes, ma'am," he capitulates, and prepares for the unexpected.

First things first; she collects the bag of items she'd stored with Bar, then puts in a few more orders. After all, what's a date night without a little something to nibble on and a few drinks?

Laden down with her supplies, she heads back to the hut by the lake and sets everything down, then goes scouting around to find the best place to set up.

He's definitely not going to have any problem occupying himself for an hour or so. The bigger challenge might be extricating himself when the time comes.

Bucky listens to Shuri's rapid-fire explanation of her new theory for kinesthetic modification of something-or-other based on geotemporal-and-spatial recognition of... something..., and nods along as best he can whenever she pauses for breath. Following the instructions for testing's a lot easier. He balances as she says, places pressure with his left hand as she indicates on the test points and lets her scan everything she can think of to scan and then some.

She finds a spot back behind the hut that's larges enough for what she has in mind, then starts unloading things from the bag. It'll take her the better part of the time she has just to set up, but she wasn't planning on getting ready here at the hut, anyway.

So she hums to herself as she lays out all the pieces and brings out the small table, then erects a few stakes around the perimeter, which should serve her purpose nicely.

It's when he's doing the third handstand, shifting his weight back and forth so she can compare the biological to the vibranium, that Shuri finally thinks to ask, "Why did you come by, anyway?"

Bucky peers up at her from his upside-down position. "Partly to say hi, partly to see about checking in with Steve, and --" Might as well ask, he decides. "--partly to see what you think of Halloween? As a thing for the kids here, if you think they'd like it?"

The enthusiastic shriek the princess lets out threatens to deafen him, and he starts laughing.

By the time she's finished setting up, she's hot and sweaty again, even as the sun starts setting and the air cools.

That's fine. She gives everything a last once over, then opens the door to the Bar one more time, heading up to Bucky's room with a sense of relief to use his shower – and, more importantly the bathroom mirror and counter.

Maybe it's a ridiculous use of the Bar's time dilation effect, but, honestly, who hasn't wanted to have as much time as they needed to get ready for a date that's happening in... probably less than half an hour back home?

Shuri peppers him with questions and ideas and a running stream of commentary on the ridiculousness of various "colonizer traditions," all of which he keeps up with as best he can. Bucky explains the background behind the entire pumpkin thing, talks about seeing kids with carved turnips wandering the streets when he was little, and agrees with her that it should be a lot of fun to try no matter what. He throws Sharon to Shuri's mercies when it comes to planning, suggesting that she might already have some ideas, and leaves the princess plotting merriment and mayhem as he escapes, deciding to come back and call Steve and Natasha tomorrow.

Is it too early to head back? Probably not, it's got to have been an hour and a half by now, easy. Bucky makes his way to the platform and takes the train back, then circles around and starts along the familiar grassy hill toward the distant hut.

Before he can enter the hut, a familiar voice calls from the slightly open door. "Close your eyes!"

She sounds like she's laughing. "I'll come get you."

"What the-- okay, okay," he acquiesces, amused. Bucky closes his eyes and stays where he is.

"Ready when you are."

She comes out of the hut and takes his hand, double-checking to make sure he has, in fact, closed his eyes, and isn't peeking. "This way," she tells him, and guides him back around the hut, making sure to take a smooth path so he doesn't lose his footing.

A faint, familiar scent floats around her. He's pretty sure she's wearing perfume, and whatever else she's wearing is making a soft rustling sound, but he can't quite tell what it is. Bucky twines his fingers with hers and lets her lead him, enchanted with the mystery.

"Where are we going?"

"Not far," she promises, and squeezes his hand. "I just needed to find a flat enough spot, but I still wanted to be in sight of the lake."

She leads him a few more yards, then tugs him gently to a halt and lets go of his hand. "Wait here," she tells him, and moves a few steps away, then turns back to him and smile. "Okay. Open your eyes."

As he does, before he can adjust too much to the dim evening light, she hits the switch in her other hand and illuminates the twinkling string lights she'd strung on the stakes she'd set up around the little area she'd created: a miniature dance floor, about ten feet wide and ten feet across, made up of interlocking pieces of compressed wood flooring over a rubber mat. To the side sits the table from the hut, laid with a basket of food and a bottle of champagne on ice, cheek and jowl with a small speaker system; past it she'd spread the purple and smoke blanket, ready for a picnic.

As for herself, she stands on the makeshift floor, her hair waved and pinned back over one ear, wearing a pale gold dress that drifts gracefully around her knees with each movement. From the top of her head with its pin-waved curls and cherry-red lipstick to the tips of her toes, in silk stockings and dance shoes, she might have stepped right out of a motion picture from 1945.

"So." She's watching him with undisguised, delighted anticipation. "What do you think?"

Edited 2022-09-19 00:00 (UTC)

He stares at her, utterly amazed and knocked completely for a loop, speechless with delight at the vision she makes and the trouble she's gone to.

"I think I'm the luckiest man in the whole damn world," he declares, and his smile's as bright as sunshine as he crosses to hold out a hand to her.

"Dance with me, angel?"

"Yes," she says, smiling. "Always."

She takes one of his hands and steps to the side to drop the switch on the table and tap the screen of her phone. A second later, music comes drifting dreamily out of the speakers: the same playlist she'd put on for him once before, a long time ago.

She curls her fingers around his and steps closer, looking up into his face with a smile. "I really wanted to dance with you again."

This time, thanks to Shuri's prototype, he's able to draw her into his arms a lot more smoothly than when they'd first danced here. But just like then, he leads her into a slow foxtrot, smiling back down at her.

"Until the sun comes up, if you want," he promises. "You're amazing. And you look like a dream. How'd you manage all this?"

"The local, for some of it."

It's easier now that he has a left arm. Her fingers curve over his vibranium ones without hesitation, and she sets her other hand at his shoulder, allowing him to draw her sweetly into his arms. "The marketplace, for the rest. Like those little speakers, and the lights."

She can't stop smiling up at him, her eyes shining with her success, with having made him so happy. It feels like she's already drunk on that unopened champagne. "But it took a while to pull everything together, even so."

Edited 2022-09-19 00:27 (UTC)

"You're amazing," he repeats, holding her a little closer than a strict dance frame would call for. Right now, in this moment, he's wholly, simply happy.

"I adore you, Sharon. I really do."

"I adore you right back, Bucky Barnes."

She's flushed with success and delight as she curls her arm over his, dancing slow and close as he guides them easily around the miniature dance floor. "You've done so much for me. I wanted to do something nice for you, too."

Sharon looks up at him, her eyes bright, wanting to imprint the image of his happiness into her memory. "I'm so glad you like it."

Edited 2022-09-19 00:38 (UTC)

"I do. This is really, really nice." He spins her deftly into a little twirl and brings her right back to him, catching her close and smiling down at her.

She can't resist; she pushes up onto her toes and lightly kisses his mouth.

"Easier now that you have two hands again, too," she teases, as she drops back down.

"Well, yes." He wraps his left arm around her waist and lifts her off her feet as he spins around in a circle with her.

Her laughs peals out, clear as a ringing bell, as he picks her up so effortlessly.

"You've already swept me off my feet," she teases, her arms going comfortably around his neck. "You don't need to do it literally."

But it is fun.

Edited 2022-09-19 00:53 (UTC)

She's laughing and happy and clearly having fun, so he doesn't put her down just yet and instead spins them around again. "But, angel, how else are you going to fly?"

"Think Shuri would build me some wings?"

Her hair bounces over her shoulders and flies out behind her as he smiles and spins them, as she laughs, and she hopes he never stops, hopes this moment never ends, when they're both so happy and he's so playful and she feels like she's glowing like one of the lightbulbs from how much she loves him.

She grins at him and lifts her arms from around his neck, letting her weight be supported just by the arm around her waist as she holds her arms out like wings.

"She might, at that."

Sharon holds out her arms, and he feels his heart turn over in his chest at the visible sign of her trust in him. Bucky spins around again and again, faster this time, then draws her down and wraps her up in a tight embrace as he leans in to kiss her.

She laughs as he whirls them around, making her feel like she really is flying, then curls her arms around his neck when he finally sets her back down and returns his kiss with everything she's feeling behind it.

"I love seeing you so happy," she murmurs, and kisses him again. "I love playing games with you. I love you, so much."

He doesn't deserve this much happiness, he knows that, but for tonight, here in this moment with her, he pushes that knowledge aside.

"I love you too," he whispers, and kisses her back.

A small sound escapes her as he kisses her again, as her heart flips in her chest. She slips one hand up along the back of his neck, slides her fingers into his hair, and presses herself to his chest. "Hold me close, soldier boy," she murmurs, her breath warm against his lips.

"Don't ever let me go."

Bucky smiles, slow and sweet, and tightens his embrace just a little more. "Yes, ma'am," he murmurs. "As long as you want."

She kisses him once more, then presses her cheek to his, her arm resting over his shoulders, her other hand curved gently at the back of his head. "Okay," she says, quiet. "Forever, then."

Forever. He lowers his head to her shoulder and breathes in her warmth and the scent of her perfume, drawing her into a slow sway of a dance as the music shifts.

"Sounds good to me."

"Good."

The music drifts around them, and he moves them, slow and sweet and swaying. She can feel the steady beat of his heart against her own chest and the warmth of his breath through the fabric of her dress as he rests his head on her shoulder.

She tucks her head against his, bright hair blending softly with dark, and closes her eyes to lose herself in the moment.

When he thinks about it later, he'll never be able to say exactly how long they dance. It doesn't matter. What matters is the soft cadence of the music, the feel of Sharon in his arms, the way the two of them move across their own personal dance floor under the bright Wakandan stars, surrounded by tiny lights.

At some point, though, a thought occurs to him and he lifts his head to look down at her. "You must be starving. Let me make you a snack?"

She opens her mouth to protest, but her stomach rumbles and she shakes her head at herself, amused. "Okay," she admits. "I am hungry. Let's have a little something to eat."

Stepping back, she lets him go, only to take his hand in hers and lead him over to the table. There's a large amount of fresh fruit, of course, cut up and whole, both, and cheeses, along with some of the Wakandan dishes they've both come to like. "You must be getting a little peckish, too. That super soldier metabolism must burn like the sun."

"A little. I still don't usually notice," he admits. "But I'm learning to." Bucky looks over the arrangement she's set up and lets out a soft whistle. "Baby, you did all this?"

"It's not hard to get food here," she points out, amused. "And it looks fancier than it is."

She pulls the sweating bottle of champagne from the ice bucket. "This, I had to get from the local."

"Well, it looks pretty impressive," he counters. "Here, I'll fix a plate for you."

He grins at the champagne, and turns the smile on her. "I should have dressed up too."

"Next time," she promises, smiling, and turns her attention to the champagne, her fingers deftly unwrapping the foil over the cork. "But you look very handsome anyway."

He smiles at that and starts building a plate for her, taking a little of everything with the goal of making absolutely sure that she has enough.

"I don't hold a candle to you, though."

"Oh yeah?"

Sharon puts a napkin over the cork and works it carefully out until it releases with a pop!

She grins as she carefully pours some of the fizzing champagne into the flutes she'd brought. "I thought I'd try out a new look... for me. It works, huh?"

"You better believe it," he tells her, fervently. "You look like you stepped right out of Hollywood, back - back before. Back then."

If she's being honest, she hadn't been a hundred percent sure this part of her plan was going to go all that well, but she can't argue with the light in his eyes or the sincerity in his voice. She sets the bottle down and lets the champagne in the flutes settle for a moment, then smiles at him.

"I thought it might be nice," she admits. "For you. Something you might have liked back then, too."

"I would have liked you in any time," Bucky says, soft, clear, and completely sincere. "I do. The way you look now, the way you look usually, whether you're dressed up or not -- but yeah, you look amazing."

She smiles at him, warm and happy, and tops off the flutes before moving over to the blanket she'd spread over the grass. "Come over here," she invites him, as she carefully sits, making sure not to spill any of the champagne.

"Let's have our supper."

He picks up the plates he's filled and carries them over to join her, going down on one knee at the edge of the blanket to hold hers out to her first before taking his own seat.

She takes one look at the piled plate he offers her and starts laughing, then sets one of the flutes carefully aside so she can accept it. "Worried I'll waste away to nothing?"

The plate gets set on the blanket near her; she reaches back for the abandoned flute and offers it to him. "Here."

“I didn’t want you to be hungry.” He takes the flute and holds it up to her for a toast, smiling.

"You're sweet."

She lifts her own flute and taps it against his, sending a clear chime through the air around them.

“Look who’s talking.” He takes a sip of the champagne, then lowers the glass a little and just looks at her, drinking her in.

She sips at her own champagne, letting the bubbles burst against her tongue, and smiles at him over the lip of her flute as he watches her.

"What?"

Edited 2022-09-19 13:30 (UTC)

He shakes his head, just a little. “Trying to make sure I always remember this.”

She smiles at that, and sets her champagne down to pick up her plate. "I hope you do."

If she could preserve this night in amber, record it so she could close her eyes and live it all over again, she would. "I like making new memories with you."

“So do I,” he tells her, softly. “Both things.”

Bucky takes another sip of champagne, then carefully sets the flute down and turns his attention to his own plate. “This is great, baby. All of it.”

"We haven't had a date night in a while," she points out, forking up a few bites. As much as she teases him, he's right: she is starving. It's been a busy day.

"And I figured: no need to wait until we're in Brooklyn."

He smiles a little wryly at that. "True. There's no reason to wait." Especially since there's no telling when it'll be possible for any of them to go there.

"Oh, you're going to get your Halloween, too."

"How did this become my Halloween?" she asks, laughing.

"It was your idea."

"Was it?" he says, keeping his tone bland. "I might have suggested to Shuri that you'd have some thoughts about how to do it."

"Uh-huh."

She takes another bite and gives him a fondly exasperated glance. "Guess I'd better come up with a few, then."

He widens his eyes at her, innocently. “I knew you could do it.”

"Don't think you're getting out of this," she informs him, pointing at him with her fork, then laughs.

"Too bad the goats are too small to give hayrides."

Bucky grins. “I know, I know,”
he promises. “I’ll help.”

He looks thoughtful. “Wonder if that rhino’d be an option. Okoye would know.”

She allows herself a moment to imagine a cartload of children drawn by the enormous rhinoceros and can't help a laugh.

"If not, I'm sure someone has an ox or two they can loan to the cause."

"We'll figure something out." He finishes up with his food and swaps the plate for the glass.

"It'll be fun. But right now, this is better."

"I think so, too."

She keeps her eyes on him, taking in every nuance of his happiness. He looks so bright and pleased and she promises herself she'll do all she can to make him feel this way as often as possible.

A few more bites and she puts her plate down with a sigh, her stomach feeling pleasantly full. "And we can keep it, you know. The flooring. We probably won't want to have it out all the time, but it's ours for whenever we want it."

"We can store it at the back of the hay shed," he suggests. "It's open, so it'd be easy to get in and out, but it's sheltered enough from the weather."

Although 'shed' might be a bit of a stretch, the little lean-to is pretty sturdy, enough for this.

"Perfect."

She grins at him. "Maybe some of the kids will want dance lessons."

Amusement fills his expression. "Doubt it, but I guess we'll see."

She tips the last of her champagne into her mouth, then sets the empty flute aside and leans back on her hands, stretching her legs out onto the blanket in front of her, toes pointing. Overhead, the stars are beginning to gleam through the dark evening sky.

"It's really nice here."

"It is," he murmurs, watching her. "Don't move, okay?"

He's on his feet in the next instant and ducking into the hut.

She makes a soft sound of acknowledgement and stays where she is, gazing up at the sky.

The soft click of a camera shutter's the first sign of his return. He takes the picture from the edge of the hut, capturing the way she's stretched out, head tipped back and eyes dreamy, dress gleaming gold in the soft light.

She glances over, amused, then tips her head back and smiles, modeling unashamedly.

"You're always so patient with me," he murmurs, even as he circles to take images from various angles. Pictures of her, of the dance floor and the lights, hints of the stars above in the way he frames them, Bucky loses himself in them all.

"Why wouldn't I be?" she counters, delighted to see him prowling around to take photo after photo.

"I love when you take pictures."

"Still." He lowers the camera and smiles at her over the top of it.

"You should have one with you in it, though," she points out, though it's mild. As far as she's concerned, he can take any picture he wants, and as many of them as he desires.

"I have an idea for that." He circles the area again, making sure he's got the right angle, then takes the little spider stand out of a pocket and sets it up. Bucky brings it to its full height, mounts the camera, and checks the view before he programs a few settings.

Having done that, he comes over to offer her a hand up. "May I have this dance?"

She accepts his hand and allows him to lift her to her feet, laughing. "As long as it's nothing too quick yet," she warns. "I'm really full."

"Nothing too quick," he promises, drawing her close. "Mostly to pose for the camera."

She steps lightly into his arms and curls her fingers over his shoulder, her other hand tucked into his vibranium one.

"That'll be a nice picture," she murmurs, looking up at him with warm, fond eyes.

"I thought so too." The timer on the camera runs out and the quiet clicks of a shutter begin to sound as it starts taking the set of exposures he'd set up. Bucky smiles down at her and twirls her around very slowly, very gently, dancing with her while the camera captures it all.

She moves easily with him, twirling when he lifts his hand and coming back to him in the next breath, each step slow and sweet and perfect.

Never in a million years could she have imagined her little surprise would go so well. She'll be riding the high of this satisfaction for days.

The last picture clicks and the shutter slides to lock, along with the lens cover. Bucky draws her close once more and smiles at her. “There,” he murmurs. “Want to watch the stars a while?”

"Definitely."

She's not sure there's anything he could suggest right now that she wouldn't go along with. "Let me turn out the lights so we can see them better."

“I’ll put the camera away and pour some more champagne while you do.”

He suits actions to words and meets her back at the edge of the purple-and-smoke throw that she’d given him all those months ago.

She switches off the string lights, but lets the music stay on, playing something soft and slow, then comes to join him, holding out her hand.

"Sit down with me?"

He lets his small, warm smile answer for him as he takes her hand and kisses her fingers, then helps her to sit down and hands her the champagne.

Bucky settles beside her and reaches to brush her hair back over her shoulder. “Hi,” he murmurs. “Happy?”

"Yes."

Completely, wholly. She doesn't hesitate to answer, not when she has the answer right here at her fingertips.

He'd been so worried, she knows. That she was unhappy. That she felt trapped and restless. But she has a goal, now, and a few things of her own, and this evening is so perfect she couldn't imagine how it could be better. "You?"

“Yes.” More than he could ever possibly deserve. Tomorrow will wait. What’s important now is right here.

"Good."

Sharon curls her legs to the side to sit on her hip and puts her head on his shoulder, leaning against him. She holds the flute delicately in her fingers, sipping now and then as they watch the stars gleam overhead.

He puts his arm around her, holding her close, supported, and just breathes while the sky above slowly spins and the peace of a Wakandan night settles over then.

[oom] training ground

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