nerves_of_ice | [WWII AU] the streets of london

Weeks they've been here, with Howard back among all his toys and tools, and he still hasn't found a way to reverse the wormhole that brought her here.

So she keeps busy in other ways. Today, she's trying to mend a tear in a set of her stockings and swearing bloody murder every time she stabs herself in the finger with the needle, so it's a relief when a knock comes at her door.

More so when she sees who it is. "Sergeant."

Sharon opens the door a little wider, her smile impossible to tuck away. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He leans against the doorjamb, grinning back at her. "Steve and I wanted to offer an invitation," he says, with as much innocence as he can muster. "We're heading out to pick up some things, and thought you and the other Agent Carter might want to put in a few requests."

Casually, before she can answer, he adds, "Or even come along."

"Hmm."

That smile keeps toying around the edges of her mouth. "I guess that depends. What kind of things are you picking up?"

She keeps her tone bland and teasing. "Munitions?"

"Not this time." It's all he can do to keep from laughing. "Personal items. Some souvenirs. That kind of thing."

The suppressed laughter twinkles in his eyes instead. "Don't women like to shop where you're from?"

Edited 2022-12-03 05:24 (UTC)

"Absolutely. It's just that they mostly do it online."

Not that that makes any kind of sense to Bucky. She studies him as he leans there, all relaxed grace. "So, you would like us to come out for a shopping trip in the city. Is that it?"

"Online?" he asks, curious, then nods. "Yes, ma'am. If you want. We can run interference with crowds, carry your packages for you, that kind of thing."

"Future thing. Don't worry about it."

He's clearly up to something, but it sounds like fun regardless, so she huffs a laugh and nods. "Well, how could I resist an offer like that?"

He stores it away with other incomprehensible tidbits about the time she comes from to puzzle over later - what kind of line? It can’t be like fishing; maybe a clothesline or delivery service? - and and grins more broadly, delighted. “Wonderful. I’ll go check with the other Agent Carter, and then maybe we could meet at the surface lift in half an hour?”

"See you there," she agrees, then frowns. "Uniform or civilian clothes?"

“Either, I guess. Steve and I’ll be in uniform because of regulations, but if you and the other Agent Carter want to go in civvies be my guest.”

He touches his brow in a small, informal salute, winks at her, and goes to look for Peggy.

Edited 2022-12-03 16:51 (UTC)

Her mouth twitches as she returns his salute, and she closes her door behind him, then turns to look at her quarters and the choices she has.

Peggy Carter will be the harder sell, he knows, but he’s determined to try. Bucky goes to her quarters first and knocks. If she isn’t there, he’ll head for the other most likely places, but given the time of day and the fact that he’d swung by a couple on the way here, he figures there’s a pretty good chance.

Unlike with Sharon, he doesn’t lean against the door, but stands straight and attentive while he waits for any answer.

She's at her desk, writing a letter, when the knock comes and her pen pauses at the end of the word. "It's open," she calls, focusing on finishing her sentence so she can put her pen down and turn in her chair to see who's come to call.

Bucky opens the door but doesn’t presume to step inside. “Ma’am,” he says, politely. “Captain Rogers and I are going into the city to pick up a few things and thought that you and your niece might be interested in coming along.”

She stays at her seat, one arm lightly resting on her desk, and frowns at him. "I'm very busy, Sergeant," she says. "I can't simply drop everything I'm doing for a shopping trip."

“Yes, ma’am, I know.” He’d expected something like this. “That’s why I— we thought you might find this an effective way to get errands done while spending time with the other Agent Carter. And with the two of us to help carry, you could do more than you might on your own.”

She narrows her eyes at him, suspicious, but he'd chosen his argument well. It would be easier to run errands with their help, and she has to start thinking about what small things she'd like to send back home for the holidays. "Well."

She taps her pen on the desk, considering. "When were you thinking of going?"

“In about half an hour.” His gaze is bland and innocent as he meets her eyes. “But if that’s not convenient for you we’d be happy to adjust.”

Half an hour. Peggy does a swift but thorough mental calculation of everything she has to get done today, then weighs it against the admittedly far more pleasant prospect of spending an afternoon out in this city she loves with a niece she adores and –

She doesn't quite let herself finish the thought. "Half an hour is acceptable," she says, crisply. "Is there anything else, Sergeant?"

“No ma’am,” he says, prompt. “I’ll leave you to it. If it’s convenient, we can meet at the surface lift then.”

"Very well," she says, brisk, and gives him a nod. "On your way, then."

“Yes, ma’am.” Bucky braces to attention, then shuts the door and heads back up the hall.

Now all he has to do is corral Steve and make sure his best friend doesn’t chicken out.

Being back at HQ means there's time to breathe and plan out their next move – which is exactly what he'd just been doing in his meeting with Phillips. His CO has headed off to other duties of his own, but Steve's chosen to stay behind to study the maps, leaning onto the table with both hands as he considers all the angles.

“Cap,” Bucky says, rapping on the door to announce himself. “Can I interrupt?”

Steve glances up and smiles, the expression changing his face from serious to warm in an instant. "Bucky. Always."

He straightens and looks at his best friend. "What do you need?"

Bucky grins at him. “To remind you that we’re leaving in half an hour to go shopping.”

Surprise chases clear across Steve's face. "We are?"

If he's being honest, he didn't really think the girls would agree to it.

Edited 2022-12-03 20:01 (UTC)

“We are,” he says, firmly. “All four of us.”

"All four of us?"

Yes, he'd had a wonderful time with Peggy the other night, but that was in the evening, when everyone relaxes a little. He thinks about walking around London with her, helping her with packages, and flushes a little. "They said yes?"

“They did.” Bucky walks all the way in and over to Steve. “So you better get a move on, Rogers. Anything I can help you wrap up here?”

"Uh..."

He glances down at the map, distracted, and takes a moment to wonder if he might be able to come up with some reason why he can't go. "No, I was just musing. So... half an hour?"

“A little less than that, now.” Bucky makes his smile warm and reassuring. “We’re all to meet at the lift.”

It's all arranged already, and if he backs out, he has the sinking suspicion Agent Carter – the Agents Carter – will guess why. "At the lift," he repeats. "I'll be there."

“You sure will.” He clasps Steve’s shoulder. “Buck up, Rogers. This is going to be fun.”

"If you say so," Steve says, a little doubtful. But Bucky wouldn't lead him astray, and it would be nice to have a little time with Agent – the Agents – Carter outside HQ. "What kinds of things do you think they want to shop for?"

Nothing too embarrassing, he hopes.

“No idea,” he says, cheerfully. “I’m thinking to look for little things to send to the girls with the next letter, and maybe that’ll appeal to them, too. If not, I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

"What if they want to shop for clothes?" Steve wonders, nervous. The thought of being asked his opinion on a dress or pair of gloves makes him break out into a cold sweat.

“Then we just stand around and carry things and make approving noises, mostly,” Bucky tells him. “They’ll probably ask each other fashion questions, not us.”

He'd rather run headlong into enemy fire than step foot in a ladies' clothing store. Everything in there is so delicate and dainty. He'd be worried about accidentally tripping over his feet and crushing something expensive.

"If you say so." He takes a breath and steels himself. "I better swing by my quarters. Make sure I have my wallet."

“I’ll come with you.” It’s not that he thinks Steve might run, exactly, but he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t mind a little extra support.

Steve nods and moves away from the table, toward the door. "I'm working on a page for that letter," he tells Bucky. "For whenever you send it."

“I need to finish my own up,” he admits, keeping pace. “I figured later tonight maybe, if we can find some stuff for the girls today.”

"Well, they asked for a lot of information from you," Steve says, amused. "Did you answer all Becky's questions?"

“That’s the part I’m still working on.” He knows he sounds sheepish, and that Steve’ll be able to tell exactly why. “It’s a little hard to explain.”

Steve smiles to himself, thinking of the other sheet he's been working on to add to the letter. It's no magic photograph, but hopefully it'll help quell the Barnes girls' curiosity. "I'd say you could tell them it's classified, but somehow I think that would only make Becky try to find a way to get over here herself."

“She would. You know she would. She’d sign up as a WAC, or a nurse or something.” Bucky shakes his head. “No thanks. I’ll write letters, and she’ll stay safe in Indiana.”

"That sounds like a good idea."

They turn into the corridor his quarters are on, and Steve opens the door as they arrive. "Seems like they like it out there."

Bucky follows him in and leans against the wall, shoving his hands idly in his pockets. “You know, I really think they do? Me, I’d miss Brooklyn too much. But I’m glad they’re happy.”

Steve heads to his desk, surreptitiously closing his sketchbook before Bucky can see his work in progress. "So I'm not going to lose you to a country life in Indiana when we get home?" he teases.

"No dreams of becoming a farmer?"

“Me? A farmer?” Bucky throws his head back and laughs. “Not a chance. I’m a city boy through and through. You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Rogers.”

"Glad to hear it."

He shoots an amused glance back at Bucky. Not sure Sharon's the farming type, either dances on his tongue, but he bites it back, for the moment. Steve searches out his wallet and checks the contents, then slips it into his pocket. "Anything else I need?"

"Not that I can think of," he admits. "It's mostly just for the fun of it, you know - although we really do need to look for a few things, and I'd bet they do too."

"Anything you're looking for in particular?" Steve asks, curious. He takes a moment to run a comb through his hair, trying to get it to lay neat and flat, and gives his reflection a worried glance.

"Not exactly. But I'll know it when I see it, I think." He watches as Steve tries to tidy his hair and forbears to tease him.

"A lot's going to depend on what's available. There's a war on, you know."

Steve rolls his eyes. "No kidding."

Standing up, he straightens his uniform, then gives the mirror a last despairing look and turns to Bucky. "How're we doing on time?"

"We're in good shape. At least ten minutes," he reassures him. "You look great, Steve. Don't fret."

Steve flushes. "I'm not – "

Well, he is. And Bucky knows it; of course he does. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"I am. It's just a walk and a bit of shopping," he coaxes him, but his gaze is serious and steady.

"But if you really want me to, I can make an excuse."

"They'll be on their way already," Steve points out. "No. It's – it'll be fine. It'll be... fun. Right?"

This is what people do, isn't it? An afternoon out with their girl. Even though even thinking that term about Peggy in regards to himself makes him almost dizzy.

"Right," Bucky assures him, warm and fond. "It really will be." And it'll be a hell of a lot different than any other double date he's ever set up with him and Steve, because this time the dame sees Steve for who he is, and always has.

"Come on. Let's get going."

Steve blows out a breath and sets his shoulders, then gives Bucky a wry smile.

"Okay, Buck. Don't want to keep them waiting."

"That's the ticket." He pushes away from the wall and slings his arm around Steve's shoulders for a second before opening the door.

The lift's only a few minutes from here. They won't be late.

In the end, she'd stayed in uniform, assuming Aunt Peggy would do the same. Besides, it'll no doubt help Steve feel a little more comfortable.

She meets Aunt Peggy on the way, and forbears from commenting on her aunt's freshly brushed hair and re-done makeup. Instead, they discuss upcoming mission strategy as they make their way to the lift.

Bucky and Steve have preceded them there, she sees, a grin breaking across her lips like dawn. "Captain," she greets them, as she and Aunt Peggy come near. "Sergeant."

"Agent Carter," Bucky says, with a quick answering smile. It's still warm and friendly as he turns to Peggy. "And Agent Carter. We're glad you're both able to join us."

Edited 2022-12-04 06:15 (UTC)

"Thank you for the invitation, Sergeant," Aunt Peggy says, perfectly politely. She turns to Steve. "Captain. I hope we won't be an inconvenience."

“An in—?” Steve chokes, startled. “You could never.”

Bucky swallows the laugh that wants to rise and turns to Sharon. “Are you ready?”

"Ready and willing," she promises. "Let's go."

He hits the button to call the lift and moves a little to the side, leaving more room for Steve to stand near Peggy…or the other way around.

“Agent Carter, London’s your city,” he says, politely. “I’d had a couple of ideas, but we’d be glad of your advice.”

Peggy takes her spot near the Captain and arches an eyebrow at the Sergeant. "I'd be interested to observe your choices, Sergeant," she replies. "It's always nice to see this city through fresh eyes."

That's a challenge if he's ever heard one. Bucky meets her level gaze with bland innocence in his own. "All right."

He puts his left hand in the lift door to keep it open for the others to enter first, then follows them in. "It's a nice walk from here down to Coventry Street," he observes. "And not far to Oxford Street from there. I even hear that Selfridges is already putting up window displays for the season."

He should know, since he's already scouted the area for just this purpose.

"That sounds great," Sharon tells him, as he gets in and sends the lift up toward the surface

She looks over at Aunt Peggy. "I may as well check and see if that dress I was looking at is still available, while we're out."

He can see the flicker of panic in Steve's glance and hopes no one else does. "Do you want to go there first?" he offers. It's not like they can really say no, and maybe it'll make Steve feel better to get it over with.

"I think it's on our way," she tells him. "I'll just look in the window. I can always come back on my own."

"However you like." The lift creaks to a stop at the top and Bucky holds the door open for them again. He uses the opportunity to give Steve a pointed look.

His best friend swallows hard, and bravely offers, "You should stop in. If you want. Especially since we'll be right there."

"I'd like to see it, myself," Aunt Peggy tells her, and Sharon shrugs. "All right. If it's there, maybe I will."

“Sing out when we get close,” Bucky tells her, and offers Sharon his arm.

Hopefully doing so will make it easier for Steve to do the same for Peggy.

She tucks her hand into the crook of his arm and strolls by his side as they head out onto the sidewalk. Behind her, Steve takes his courage in both hands and offers his own arm to Aunt Peggy, who takes it without batting an eyelash.

"What's Brooklyn like at the holidays?" Sharon asks the two men. "I've never been there at this time of year."

“Cheerful,” Steve says, with a bright, happy smile. Bucky thinks he’s walking on air, and can’t blame him.

“Busy,” he adds. “Bustling. Everyone’s getting ready for the holidays and bracing for the winter at the same time. It feels really alive somehow.”

"Lots of lights and decorations?" Sharon asks. "And good food?"

"Manhattan's probably got fancier ones," Steve admits. "With Rockefeller Center and all. But I like Brooklyn's better."

"Trust Steve to sum it all up," Bucky laughs. "Lights depends a little on the neighborhood - Dyker Heights, for instance - but decorations everywhere for sure. Everyone swarms the lampposts and fire escapes and the like, and hangs stuff from everything."

"Look who's talking," Steve puts in. "You're the one who decorated the fire escape outside our apartment last year."

"That was an accident," Bucky protests.

"How exactly does one accidentally decorate a fire escape?" Aunt Peggy asks, and Sharon gives Bucky an amused, inquisitive glance.

"I'd like to know that answer, too."

"Mostly because I got overambitious with the tree." He gives Steve an aggrieved look, and Steve blinks innocently back at him. Bucky sighs and looks at the women.

"One of the lots was selling off Christmas trees at a really good price. I figured there had to be a reason for it, but it was only a couple days before so I thought I'd risk it. So I got a big tree, bigger than we'd ever had before, and rather than bring it up the stairs I tried to haul it up the fire escape."

"Which is when he found out why the price had been so good," Steve puts in. "It sort of exploded."

"Exploded?" Sharon asks, her skepticism clear. "How can a tree explode?"

"When it's dry enough, and you try to pull it through narrow metal bars, all the needles fall off at once," Bucky says, wry. "So I took the branches that were left, stuck them every which way, and pretended it was greenery that I'd meant to put there all along."

He glances at Steve. "I should have stuck with a branch like we did the year before."

"Maybe," Steve says, grinning, "but it was a good try. And a lot of fun."

She can't help laughing at that mental image, and at Bucky's chagrin. "Sounds festive," she says, supportively, though there's an amused twinkle in her eyes.

Sharon nods to a window up ahead, at the next corner. "That's the store I was talking about."

"Festive's one word for it." He's curious to see this dress that Sharon's mentioned more than once, and guides her through the passers-by toward the store, clearing the way for Steve and Peggy to follow.

Well, it is still in the window. It's clear that rationing and practicality are in effect here in London, but the dress is still pretty: a trim frock in a silky yellow gold with a pleated skirt, ideal for dancing.

Sharon gives it a critical glance through the window, then looks at the others. "What do you think?"

Steve gives Bucky a look that says I told you so as clear as anything, then draws a quick breath and responds, "It's pretty?"

"It is," Bucky adds. There's clear appreciation in his tone. "The color would look great with your hair."

"Why don't you try it on, darling?" Aunt Peggy tells her. "I'd like to see how it looks on you."

Sharon glances at Bucky. "Do you guys mind waiting a few minutes?"

"Of course we don't mind," Bucky says, promptly. He'd like to see how it looks on her too, but suspects Peggy might be annoyed if he suggests it. Besides, Steve's looking closer and closer to panic, although he doesn't think the others will be able to tell.

"Steve and I can wait right out here. You two go ahead. Take your time."

Edited 2022-12-04 21:09 (UTC)

"We won't be long," she promises. And she means it; she doesn't love shopping for clothes. She lets go of Bucky's arm and gets the door for Aunt Peggy, then follows her aunt inside.

He glances over at Steve. "We dodged the bullet," he teases. "Relax, Rogers."

Steve gives him a wry look and turns away from the shop windows, not wanting it to look like he's hanging around like a creep. He's not sure how long they wait, but he doesn't think it's even ten minutes before the door opens and Peggy and Sharon come back out, chatting, Sharon holding a bag.

Bucky raises his eyebrows. "So I guess that was a yes?" he observes, glancing between them.

"I guess you'll have to wait and see," Sharon says, archly, as Aunt Peggy takes Steve's arm once more. "Coventry Street next?"

He beckons for her to give him the bag to carry, even as he offers his other arm again.

"Coventry Street it is," he agrees. "Agent Carter, are you interested in looking for anything in particular?" He turns to look at Peggy to make it clear which one he's addressing the question to.

"This is your expedition, Sergeant," Aunt Peggy says, as Sharon hands over the bag and takes Bucky's arm once more. "Sharon and I are here for the company and the fresh air, more than for errands of our own."

Sharon glances at him, her mouth twitching. "Which isn't to say we might not see something along the way worth looking at," she adds.

"Yes, ma'am, I understand," Bucky returns, perfectly polite. Looks like Steve's on his own when it comes to figuring out what Peggy might like for a Christmas gift.

"Well, if you do, just sing out. Besides, I can't say I wouldn't appreciate suggestions." His smile is warm and real. "Maggie informed me in no uncertain terms a couple of letters back that she's 'all grown up now' and I'd better not forget it. So now I've got two of them who need 'grown-up' presents, plus the younger two."

"Well, I think we can help with some 'grown-up' presents for Becky and Maggie," Sharon laughs. She's unable to resist glancing back at Steve, who looks uncomfortable, before looking back at Bucky.

"Maggie might like something pretty to wear, or a nice hair pin, or some make up or perfume."

"Hm," Bucky muses, leading them down the sidewalk. It's a crisp day, but not too cold, and they're far from the only ones on the street. "I guess we'll see what there is to see. Speaking of--"

He tips his head toward the little shop halfway down the block. "That looks clever, doesn't it?"

The carved wooden Christmas village set in the antique shop window looks old but well-loved and cared for. A clever hand has made thrifty use of old cotton batting and scrap as snow and trees around the cottage pieces.

Sharon looks over and smiles as she sees the little village. "It sure does," she agrees, and nudges Bucky to walk them close enough to look through the window at the set up. It's a charming little scene, made more so by a miniature railroad track that cuts through the fluffy 'snow.'

"Look!" says Sharon, delighted. She points as a tiny electric train comes chugging along the line, traveling through the village on its way around the shop.

"Hey, that's pretty neat," Steve approves. He shifts to make sure that Peggy has plenty of room to look past him, through the shop window.

"I've been in here a couple of times," Bucky tells them all. "It's half antiques, half estate-sale kind of stuff, and it changes up a lot."

"Do you want to go inside?" Sharon asks him, glancing up as the train disappears along its track. "You never know what you might find at a place like this."

"Thought you'd never ask," he teases, and moves to open the door for her. "Cap? Agent Carter?"

"I'm certainly interested," Aunt Peggy admits. Hearing that, Steve's quick to usher her through the door. Sharon waits for Bucky to join her, then turns her attention to the store's many and varied wares.

Everything in the little shop has a discreet price tag, including the furniture on which various items are displayed. The displays themselves are cozily arranged after the feeling of a sitting room or household, rather than structured on shelves.

The bell over the door as they enter draws the attention of the gray-haired shopkeeper, whose eyes are sharp behind her gold-rimmed glasses and whose smile is genuinely pleased as she sees them. "Welcome," she tells them. "Have as much of a look as you like, and I'll be here if you've any questions."

"Thanks, Mrs. Hughes," Bucky tells her. "How's the mister doing?"

"Oh, he's coming right along. He'll be right as rain in another few weeks, the doctor says."

Sharon prowls around the shop, taking it all in. The items are all high quality and well made; clearly the proprietor has a discerning eye.

She might have expected that. What she doesn't expect is to come around a cluster of living room items and find herself face to face with her own reflection in an alarmingly familiar mirror.

Sharon blinks at herself, then looks down at the surface of a vanity she's sat at who knows how many dozens of times, then runs her fingers lightly over the engraved handle of a not-yet-antique silver hand mirror. There's a matching brush and comb somewhere, she knows. She can remember every time Aunt Peggy gave into her requests and let her sit at the vanity while her aunt did her hair.

"Glad to hear it," Bucky says, with real warmth. "Just be careful not to overdo on that plaster, now." Mrs. Hughes laughs. "Yes, yes, I won't forget."

While Bucky chats with the shopkeeper and Peggy browses the wares, Steve wanders through the shop in another direction. He doesn't want Peggy to feel like he's crowding her, or anything like that.

At least there's enough room between things that he doesn't feel likely to break anything. He edges carefully around a display and spots Sharon staring at a mirror. "Excuse me," he apologizes, and starts to back away.

Edited 2022-12-05 00:26 (UTC)

Sharon glances quickly in the direction of movement, then relaxes at the sight of Steve. "Captain," she greets him, setting the hand mirror down. "Finding anything interesting?"

"Not exactly," he hedges, "but it's a neat shop. Are you?"

Bucky's probably got all sorts of ideas already, but Steve's feeling a little lost at this kind of thing.

Aunt Peggy hadn't actually ever told her where the toiletries set had come from. Sharon knows the vanity itself was the first piece of 'real' furniture her aunt had bought for herself, and she'd always assumed the set came with it, but...

She beckons Steve a little closer, smiling. "Look at this," she tells him, and lifts up the mirror for his perusal.

He comes to stand beside her and peers at the mirror in her hand. "That's pretty nice." It is, elegant even, beautifully engraved with intricate designs.

"It is, isn't it?"

She turns it over to show him the details. The mirror is lovely, but understated, and she knows the brush and comb are the same way. If she can just find them... "You know, this is the kind of thing any woman would love to have," she tells him, conversationally. "Especially if she's had to give up on frivolities for a while."

"Really?" He examines the mirror in a new light, then looks up at Sharon. "It wouldn't, um, be too - too much?"

"From a stranger, maybe," she admits. "But not from a friend. It's the kind of thing that might remind someone that there will be a life after the war's over, you know?"

She's opening drawers in the vanity with her other hand, searching, as she speaks. "Even better if it were part of a set."

"Something good to hold on to," Steve murmurs. When the war's over is code for so many of everyone's hopes, including a number of unspoken ones for him and he hopes for Peggy as well.

He takes the other side of the vanity and starts going through drawers there, following her lead. "I appreciate this. I really do."

"And I think a mirror is a nice present," she murmurs. "Kind of like you're saying you want the person to see themselves the way you see them."

She glances over as Steve opens a drawer to a rattling sound. "What's that?"

He pulls the drawer the rest of the way open and lifts out a matching silver hairbrush and comb. "Part of a set, you said." Steve grins at her.

She grins back at him, pleased. "Will you look at that. Nice sleuthing, Cap."

He holds out his hand for the mirror. "Will you distract her for me?" He's pretty sure he can get Bucky to help stash them, but Peggy's sharp.

She gives him the mirror and a wink and sidles off through the store to find Aunt Peggy, who she finds leafing through a series of old art prints.

"Anything interesting?" she asks, all innocence.

Edited 2022-12-05 01:55 (UTC)

"A few things look quite lovely." She glances over at Sharon. "Are you having a nice time, darling?"

She knows Sharon had hoped to be home before the holidays; how could she not? Still, Peggy has to admit it will be wonderful to have her here.

"So far, so good."

She can see Steve making his way around to the front of the store, and tucks her arm into Aunt Peggy's to coax her aunt in the other direction, back towards the vanity. "This is a really nice little shop, isn't it?"

"It is." Pleasantly arranged, with goods that are not merely junk being advertised as treasure due to age alone. "I quite like it, I must admit."

"So do I."

Will the timeline collapse on itself if she nudges Aunt Peggy towards a piece of furniture she knows her aunt owns later in life? Only experimentation can tell. Sharon strolls with her aunt through the shop, browsing with interest. "And it's nice to be out of the base for a bit."

"Hmm." It seems impolitic to agree aloud, but she suspects her niece knows her well enough to read the truth in her noncommittal response. "Well, I suppose we can spare the time today."

She trails her fingers lightly along the surface of the furniture as they past, then stops, arrested by the feel of one lovely piece under her hand. "Will you look at that."

"That's gorgeous," Sharon observes, keeping her expression one of mild interest. "And it looks really nicely made."

"It does." She opens one of the drawers, which pulls out smoothly. The others do as well when she tests them. Peggy looks into the mirror at herself and smiles at her niece's reflection.

Sharon beams back at her. "You look so pretty."

She sniffs at that, but the look in her eyes is warm all the same. "So do you."

Oh, it's foolishness even to consider it, and foolishness is something she's not given to allowing herself. Peggy brushes her hand over the vanity table again and reluctantly starts to turn away.

"Hard to have this at the base," Sharon murmurs, agreeing with her aunt's silent thought process.

"Precisely." The wood feels like silk beneath her fingers. "I wouldn't possibly be able to use something like this for some time."

While they're all hopeful, of course, the war isn't over yet.

"It's an investment piece, for sure."

Sharon looks around, then pulls over a stool about the right height for the vanity. "But just for a second, let's pretend you could use it now. Here, Aunt Peggy, take a seat."

There's no reason not to, she decides, and allows herself to be coaxed into settling on the stool Sharon's located. Peggy looks into the mirror, and just for a moment all sorts of ridiculous girlish yearnings rise up.

"It's so beautifully made," she murmurs. "Perfectly balanced in proportion. The craftsmanship is simply stunning."

Edited 2022-12-05 14:54 (UTC)

For a moment, she almost can't speak, as memories of seeing her aunt sitting at this very vanity to prepare for a speech or a party or an evening out fill her mind. She can almost smell the perfume Aunt Peggy uses, can feel the silky smooth powder puff Aunt Peggy used to teasingly pat over a small, fascinated Sharon's nose and cheeks.

The swell of longing for those simple, innocent days is almost too much to take. "It's gorgeous," she agrees, when she's sure her voice will sound normal. "And it's just the right size for you, Aunt Peggy."

"It is, isn't it?" Peggy peers at them both in the mirror, then swivels on the stool to look up at Sharon. "I suppose it couldn't hurt to ask if they have somewhere to store things. Until after."

It's just asking, after all, and if they don't, well, that's that.

"I think that's a great idea," Sharon tells her. "After all, you'll need something like this eventually."

She rises and impulsively links her arm with Sharon's as they start toward the front of the shop. "It's ridiculous," Peggy observes, half scolding herself. "I have so many other things I should be focusing on."

"It's not ridiculous at all," Sharon says, loyally. "You deserve nice things, Aunt Peggy."

And she knows, although her aunt would never admit it, that beneath that practical, stern exterior is a woman who loves fashion and the softer things in life, who spends time on her hair and makeup and clothing and who embraces the feminine with open arms. "And you're hardly focusing on this. Just thinking ahead."

"Well, I suppose thinking ahead is practical," she muses, as they draw near the shopkeeper's counter. Sergeant Barnes and St-- Captain Rogers have drifted off to examine the train in the window display, she notices.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Hughes, was it?"

The shopkeeper beams at her. "Yes, that's me. How can I help you?"

"I was wondering about that vanity," Peggy starts, half-turning to indicate it. "Is it spoken for?"

"Isn't that a lovely piece?" The shopkeeper turns her head to look over at it, then meets Aunt Peggy's glance once more. "But no, it isn't. I suppose people aren't looking to buy vanities just now, more's the pity. After all, the war will be over one day, won't it?"

"It certainly is," Peggy agrees. "And you're quite right, the war won't last forever."

She looks back over her shoulder at the vanity once more, then firms her resolve as she turns to Mrs. Hughes. "I don't suppose you have anywhere that you could hold it for me, if I were to purchase it?"

The shopkeeper looks surprised, but controls her expression easily enough. "Yes, of course," she promises. "We've a number of storage options, including the basement of this building. I'll simply ensure the piece is tagged and kept aside for you."

Peggy draws a deep breath. Oh, it's probably still foolishness and no mistake, but there's no harm in it, and it's not as if she can't afford it.

Besides, it is a nice piece. "Very well. If you could do that, then I'd like to have it."

Sharon squeezes Aunt Peggy's arm, pleased, then lets her go so she can make the necessary arrangements.

"A wonderful selection," the proprietor says, as she reaches into her desk and retrieves a receipt book. "Would you like a tour of our storage area downstairs? I'm happy to set your mind at ease on the security of your new piece. And if you would prefer, you could simply put half down now and the remaining half upon retrieval."

"That's very kind of you," Peggy says. "I accept. Sharon, darling, could you explain to the others? I'll be back in just a few minutes, I'm sure."

"Of course, Aunt Peggy," Sharon replies, and smiles to herself as she watches her aunt head off with the shopkeeper. Once they're out of sight, she turns to look around for Steve and Bucky, then makes her way toward them.

"She'll never guess I have it," Bucky reassures Steve. "I'll swing by and leave it in your quarters when we get back."

Sharon's approach catches his eye, and he tips his head toward her to alert Steve to her presence. "Seen all you want to see?"

"Uh-huh." She comes to stand with them, pleased with herself. "Aunt Peggy will be just a minute. She has to organize storage for something she got."

"Really?" Bucky hears how startled he sounds and spends a quick second being grateful that the other Agent Carter wasn't around to hear him. "Good for her. See, Steve, I told you this was a good idea."

She makes a face and laughs at him. "Yes, really. She's a human with needs and wants, you know."

Mischief sparks in his glance, but he doesn't have a chance to say anything before Steve's elbow connects solidly with his ribcage. "Oof. Okay, okay," he says, holding up both hands. "Peace. I just meant I was glad to hear it."

Sharon wrinkles up her nose at him, but magnanimously lets it slide.

"Either of you see anything here you like?"

"Found a pair of silk gloves that I think Becky'll like," Bucky tells her, looking pleased as a cat in the cream for a moment before his expression shifts into something rueful. "I sure hope they fit."

"They will," Steve assures him. "Probably. It's the thought that counts, right?"

Sharon glances at her own hands, then shakes her head. "I'd offer to try them on, but who knows if her hands are around the same size as mine."

"No idea. Thanks anyway, though." It's better not to risk her catching sight of the other small package nestled in with the gloves in the bottom of the bag, beside the one Steve had entrusted to him.

"Anyway, that's one sister taken care of, three to go."

"Had any brainwaves about what to do for Maggie?" she asks, as they wait for Aunt Peggy to return. Nothing in here screamed 'teenage girl' to her, but maybe she'd missed something.

"Not yet, but it's only the first shop, right?" he says, cheerfully.

"So I hear," she says, amused. Behind her, she hears Aunt Peggy and the shopkeeper returning. Aunt Peggy looks flushed and pleased, though she keeps her expression sternly controlled as she joins them. "Everything all set?" Sharon asks.

"All set," Peggy reports, with a smile for her niece. Bucky can practically see the pleasure in Steve's gaze as he takes in how content she looks. He turns to Mrs. Hughes.

"Thank you so much," he tells her. "I'm sure we'll be seeing you again soon, but just in case it's not before the holidays, have a merry Christmas, won't you?"

"The same to all of you," Mrs. Hughes replies, waving them all off with a warm smile. "Thank you so much for stopping in."

Steve gets the door, and Sharon and Peggy file out first, then wait for the boys on the sidewalk. "Pretty successful first stop," Sharon says, smiling. "Where to next?"

"Wander down towards the square and window-shop along the way?" Bucky suggests. "That way we can stop in anywhere interesting, or else visit the department stores once we get there."

"Sounds good to me."

She waits for Steve to offer his arm once more to Aunt Peggy, then comes to stroll at Bucky's side, pleased with herself and with the day in general. "It'll be nice to see all the decorations."

"Can't wait to see what they come up with," he agrees, cheerfully. "It may be wartime, but people are pretty creative when they need to be." He looks back over his shoulder at Steve. "You know, I'm pretty sure the girls still have the ornaments you drew for them that year."

"It's sweet of them to humor me," Steve says, while Sharon's mouth twitches.

"I'm sure they're great," she points out. "What were they drawings of?"

"Hey, they liked them!" Bucky insists. He turns back to Sharon. "Christmas stuff. He drew all the kinds of decorations you'd expect to see at a holiday, using his art school supplies, on thick paper so they'd last."

He tips his head back, trying to think. "There were gift boxes with ribbons, a teddy bear, a doll, at least a couple of candy canes, a Christmas tree..."

"A star," Steve puts in, flushing a little as Aunt Peggy looks at him. "A couple of angels... and the three Wise Men, I think."

"They sound lovely," Aunt Peggy assures him, smiling. "I'm certain the Barnes girls adore them."

"They do," Bucky tells them. "They keep them between layers of tissue paper in an old glove box except for the holidays, so they won't get messed up."

The pang she feels is a familiar one by now, and she's well-versed in turning her head to look at the shop windows they pass until she's sure her expression won't betray any of her feelings. "Maybe you could send a few more with the package," she suggests. "Get them a whole Nativity."

"You really think they'd like that?" Steve asks. Bucky's grin flashes quick and bright.

"Are you kidding? They'd love it."

"I really do," Sharon assures Steve, who looks thoughtful and a little bashfully pleased. She glances up ahead and smiles. "Looks like you'll be able to get some inspiration from our outing."

The street ahead is as festive as it's possible to get in the middle of a war.

"Merry Christmas," Bucky laughs. "Maybe a little early, but still."

He puts his other hand over Sharon's on his arm and squeezes. "Come on. Let's see what there is to see."

"Lead the way, soldier boy," she teases him, delighting in his delight. Aunt Peggy's watching them like a hawk, she knows, but she hopes her aunt will relax enough to stop thinking of herself as a chaperone as they stroll along the cheery market street.

Rationing has limited a lot of the options, naturally, but there's fresh greenery carted in and ribbons tied, and a few street-cart vendors selling their limited selections with determined cheer. "There's one in the eye for the Germans, eh?" Bucky hears one of them say as he wraps a package for his customers, and shakes his head in admiration.

"I have to say, I like London almost as much as I do New York. Almost," he hastens to add.

"New York has its charms," Aunt Peggy admits, looking around. "But it is nice to be near home."

Hard to believe the year is growing so old. Sharon realizes with a start that she hasn't thought about getting home even once yet today. If she's still here at Christmas, it'll have been months since she first arrived.

"Sure, I can see that," Bucky observes. Steve looks at Peggy. "How far away are we?"

"Oh, too far for a trip," Aunt Peggy says, watching as a shopkeeper decorates his window with holly branches and cheery ribbons. "And none of the family is there now, anyway."

Sharon looks over at the windows and coaxes Bucky to stroll with her near them, looking with interest at the various wares on display.

He leaves Steve to chat quietly with Peggy and moves with Sharon over closer to the windows. "Think they're having fun?" he asks, low enough not to be overheard.

"I think they're getting there," she murmurs back, lips pressing with her smile.

"Are you?"

“I definitely am,” he assures her. “How about you, angel?”

"Yes," she promises, squeezing his arm a little in hers. "I'm having a great time, sweetheart."

He smiles down at her, warm and bright and purely happy.

“I’m glad.”

That smile of his cracks her heart right in two. "Is there anything you're wishing for this Christmas?" she asks, teasing.

“I’m still thinking about it,” he teases back. Some of what he wants he can’t let himself wish for, in part as it wouldn’t be fair to her.

“An orange, maybe.”

She laughs and gives him an arch look. "Dream bigger, baby."

He may as well. 1945 is barreling towards them, along with the doomed mission to the Swiss Alps, and she no longer has any idea if she'll be able to keep herself from stopping him... if she's still here.

“Oh, I’ve got lots of big dreams,” he laughs back. “I’d say impossible ones, but I’ve learned that impossible things can happen.” He snubs her nose teasingly and grins at her.

“But for now, I’ll settle for the company of friends, a bit of peace and warmth and laughter… and an orange if I’m lucky.”

She wrinkles her nose at him, but smiles. "That sounds like as nice a holiday as there can be."

Oranges. She wonders if it would even be possible, and makes a mental note to ask Aunt Peggy.

“Doesn’t it, though?” He steers her toward one window with a particularly nice display.

“What about you?” He glances down at her. “Any special Christmas wishes?”

Besides the big one, which he knows.

Only he can give her the thing she wants the most, which is a long and happy life for himself, but nudging Aunt Peggy towards a piece of furniture is about as far as she's willing to test the timeline just now.

"Hmm," she muses, thoughtful. "I've mostly been working through holidays for the last few years. It would be nice just to have a little time to enjoy myself, I think."

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” he murmurs. “Really? Working through all your holidays? Is it wartime where you’re from, too?”

"Not like this," she tells him. "But there's always another mission. The world doesn't stop turning just because it's the end of December."

It’s probably wrong of him to think that at least this holiday she can probably have that. He resolves to make it as nice for her as he can.

“I guess I can see that,” he murmurs, and reaches to tug her coat a little more closely around her neck. “Warm enough?”

She lifts her chin to let him tuck her collar more snugly at her throat, smiling at him. "Yes."

It's hard to explain how her career has become her life, her identity. He's a soldier, but not only a soldier, and there will be – there should be some other identity for him after the war is over.

But she's Agent 13, and for her, for the longest time, the mission was all that counted.

Sharon waits until he's finished adjusting her coat and tips her head toward the next storefront. "Come on, let's see what's over here."

“You got it.” He takes a quick, surreptitious glance to confirm that Steve and Peggy are doing just fine, then follows her to the window she’s spotted. “Pretty ingenious.”

"People can do a lot with a little when they're motivated."

That seems especially true during wartime, like the way the French had stubbornly clung to fashion as a method of pushing back. She leans in, her breath puffing up the window, and looks at the books inside.

"That's true," he agrees. Bucky catches Steve's eye and tips his head toward the store so that they won't vanish without him knowing, then looks at Sharon.

"Want to go in?"

"Why not?"

They're not working on any kind of deadline. There's plenty of time left in the day. "Let's see what they have."

He holds the door for her, proper and polite but with laughter in his eyes, shifting to soft delight as he takes in the contents of the little store.

"Amazing," he says, meaning it. "I thought with the paper shortages places like this wouldn't be open for a while."

"Looks like a lot of used books," she tells him, running her fingers along a few worn spines. She's not sure where the proprietor is, but a fat, fluffy cat observes them from a basket atop one shelf, blinking slowly.

Sharon laughs. "Eyes front," she murmurs to Bucky. "Somebody's watching us."

"Well hey there, kitty-cat." Bucky sounds as delighted as he looks. Cautiously, he approaches the shelf, holding out his hand for the cat to inspect. As it butts its head imperiously against his fingers, he rubs behind its ears. "You're a friendly guy, aren't you, buddy?"

The big ginger cat knocks his forehead against Bucky's knuckles, then purrs like a motor, eyes narrowing in bliss as Bucky scratches behind his ears.

Sharon can't help laughing. "I think he likes you."

"I like him too." He flashes her a cheerful grin. "Look at this guy, ruler of all he surveys, with a wealth of books around him. Pretty cozy, if you ask me."

"He sure seems like he's got it made."

She strokes her hand over the cat's back and is rewarded with him turning over, paws curled, to offer up his belly for a rub.

Bucky laughs. "Looks like you've bewitched him."

She laughs, too, her eyes sparkling as she looks up at him. "He seems like a pretty soft touch."

Sharon runs her hand over the cat's furry belly, amused by the purrs that fill the air. "Life is good, huh, buddy?"

"I don't know," Bucky muses. "You're pretty bewitching. Trust me, I know."

He glances around to make sure they're alone, then steals a quick, light kiss.

She kisses him back, then looks amused. "Careful, Sergeant," she teases. "Aunt Peggy has an eagle eye."

"And a strong grip. Don't I know it," he says, ruefully, and takes out his handkerchief to blot away any possible lipstick signs.

"There."

"A strong grip?"

The cat, annoyed at being ignored, reaches out one large paw and places it on Bucky's wrist.

"Mm-hm." It's a little absent, with more of his attention focused on the cat. "Okay, buddy, I hear you. How's this, huh?" he asks, as he scratches it under the chin.

Sharon's mouth twitches, amused. "What'd she do, soldier boy? Give you a whipping?"

He realizes all at once that he's said too much, and gives her a rueful look. "Nope," he admits. "Ear twist and a lecture."

She can't help it; she laughs, bright and clear. "What?"

Sharon comes up to his side and gives his ear a teasing tug. "Were you being a bad boy?"

Bucky sighs, but holds patiently still as she pulls at his ear. "Remember that night when I was late meeting you? After our first date in town? Peggy's the senior officer who pulled me aside."

Sharon's mouth makes an 'o' of surprise before her laugh bubbles up again. "Oh, no."

"Yep," he says, dry as dust. "If it helps, you can be really, really certain that she's looking out for you."

"Oh, no," she says again, and dissolves into laughter, her shoulders shaking at the mental image of Peggy Carter taking Bucky to task like an annoyed babysitter.

"Baby, I'm sorry. I hope she backed off a little after that."

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," he teases, still petting the cat. "No, it's okay. I get where she was coming from. I don't mind."

At least, he doesn't mind now, with a little bit of time and distance.

The cat makes a prrt sound and flops heavily against Bucky's hand as Sharon's amusement continues, unchecked. "No wonder you were so worried about being appropriate."

She pushes up to kiss his cheek, smiling. "Was she raking you over the coals about your intentions?"

"I was worried about that before then, I'll have you know," he protests. "But yes, that was part of it."

"What a gentleman I've found myself," she teases, as the cat purrs in agreement. "Well, I'm glad you got her approval."

"Close enough, anyway." He's under no illusions that Peggy Carter wouldn't yank a knot in him if he did anything to hurt Sharon, but seeing as he has no intention of it, he's not worried about it.

"Speaking of Agent Carter," she says, amused, "we should probably get back to her and Steve. Unless you want to look around some more?"

"Well, the fuzzy guy here may be a little disappointed, but yeah," he says. "Let's look around real quick."

"I think he'll live."

But she gives the cat a last few strokes before she turns away to prowl through the stacks.

Aggrieved, the cat turns away to wash himself. Bucky laughs and wanders off to look at a display of children's books.

Not five minutes later, he exclaims in surprise and catches up a thin tome to flip through. "Being the True Tale of the Cottingley Fairies," he reads out. "Adapted from the work of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle."

"Oh, that's perfect for the littler girls," Sharon says, coming over to look at it.

"It sure is." He holds the book as he flips through so she can see the series of five photographs purporting to be real fairies playing with two young girls. "Looks like these two are almost - maybe a little older than Cora and Katie, but not much," he observes. Each photograph has been augmented with a whimsical tale of the event suitable for a younger reader, and drawings of dancing fairies.

"I can send them this and some Christmas crackers, if I can find a few, and I bet anything they'll go looking for fairies all over the place. They should get a real kick out of that."

"I can just see that," she murmurs, leaning her head against his shoulder as he flips through the pages. "Especially out there in the countryside."

And they'd love to tell him all about it, she's sure. Her hand fists at her side, out of his sight, but she keeps the rest of herself as relaxed as possible. "You're a good brother."

"I try, anyway." He smiles down at her. "Now I just have to figure out something for Maggie. That might take a department store trip."

"You said there's one around here, right?"

She looks around. "But I guess we'd better find the shopkeeper here, first."

Unless it's the cat. Which... she's seen stranger things.

"There's a few, even. But I think you'll like Selfridges," he tells her. "Especially at this time of year."

Bucky closes the book and looks around, then heads for the back of the shop to see if they can find anyone.

Some investigation leads them to a back corner where an ancient man is shelving books. He seems almost completely deaf, which is why he hadn't come out to speak to them earlier, she thinks, but he cheerfully shuffles over to a desk to pull out a receipt booklet, writing down the title and price in a wavery hand.

Bucky weighs the book in his hand, then carefully adds it to the bag along with the receipt the shopkeeper gives him. It's not heavy enough to be a problem, for which he's grateful.

He thanks the man profusely and gives him a cheerful wave before offering Sharon his arm again.

She tucks her hand into the crook of his arm and glances over at the bag. "That's not getting too heavy, is it?"

"Not yet," he assures her, opening the door for her. "Although I might try to wrangle another one at the next store just in case. Don't worry, I won't let anything happen to your new dress."

"I'm not worried," she promises, amused. "I just don't think you should have to carry everything."

Steve and Aunt Peggy are across the street, window-shopping and conversing, and Sharon's not even sure they'd noticed her and Bucky disappearing.

"I don't mind. Really, I don't." He watches Steve and Peggy for a moment. "You almost hate to interrupt, you know?"

"Yeah."

She watches them, too, her heart aching keenly. All of this is already more than Aunt Peggy said they'd had. Will it be enough? Or will it be too much? "They look really happy."

"He's over the moon for her." Soft, but clear and certain. "And it sure seems like she's interested too. I won't ask you to tell any secrets or anything like that, but I don't mind telling you I'm hoping hard for them."

"I wouldn't expect anything else."

She keeps a firm grip on her emotions, determined not to let any wistfulness or sorrow cross her expression. "Come on, sweetheart," she murmurs. "Let's go join them."

Bucky smiles down at her, pressing her hand to his side for a moment, then leads her across to the others. "Hi," he says easily. "Finding anything interesting?"

From the blank look on Steve's face, she thinks he'd completely forgotten their ostensible reason for being out. "Captain Rogers was telling me about the holidays growing up in Brooklyn," Aunt Peggy says, smoothly. "We were exchanging stories of family traditions."

"That sounds fun," says Sharon, who has a lifetime of traditions with Aunt Peggy that she never wants to lose. "Bucky found another present. And made friends with a cat."

"A cat?" Steve asks, trying not to laugh. Bucky tips his head back toward the bookstore to indicate it. "Big ginger tom," he confirms. "Got himself a nest in the books. Friendly guy."

He lets go of Sharon's arm long enough to reach into the bag and pull out the book, which he passes over. "Katie and Cora'll get a kick out of this."

"I love a store with a resident pet," Sharon says, amused, as Steve takes the book and flips through it.

"Hey, this is swell," he says, cheery. "They're going to love it, Buck."

"Can't wait to hear what they have to say about looking for fairies," he laughs. "Anyway, that just leaves Maggie. And Ma." And Steve himself, but he's got an idea or two about that. Bucky looks at Peggy.

"So I thought we could stroll on down to Selfridges next."

"I think that's quite a good plan," Aunt Peggy says, approvingly. "I always enjoy Selfridges at this time of year. Even with the war on, they do all they can to bring a little normalcy into everyone's lives."

"Sounds like we have an accord," Sharon says, smiling. "To Selfridges, then."

Edited 2022-12-06 23:42 (UTC)

"Besides, you really need to see the windows there," he tells Sharon, with a quick smile of appreciation for Peggy's remarks.

He takes the book back and tucks it safely away while Steve offers Peggy his arm again, then does the same for Sharon.

"Really?" She tucks her hand into the crook of his arm once more and smiles back up at him. "Why's that?"

"They're practically theater," he replies. Mischief is in his glance as he continues, "Actors and all."

She gives him an amused, skeptical glance, but he seems so pleased with whatever he's anticipating that the last thing she wants to do is ruin it. "Okay," she says, peaceably, her smile still toying around the corners of her mouth. "Let's see it."

He laughs softly at her skepticism, and helps weave them through the growing crowds as they approach the department store. In front of it, several men are unloading fresh evergreen trees from a truck, but Bucky ignores that in favor of nodding at the first window, which has several people gathered around it. "Look there."

Inside, a full display of a holiday table set for Christmas dinner is on one side of the window, and a Christmas tree on the other, with a fireplace centered at the back. A second glance reveals that the mannequins are real, with two couples and a grandmotherly figure currently decorating the tree, laughing and chatting with each other.

Sharon laughs at the sight, taken aback and surprised. "What?"

"Like I said," Bucky tells her, grinning broadly.

"It's quite the tradition," Peggy puts in, calm and collected, but with warmth in her expression and something bright in her gaze. "They even light them at night. Well, when we're not under blackout orders."

"It's sweet," Sharon says, watching the show in the window. She wonders how long it's been at home since she was taken, and if Christmas has come and gone yet. She wonders if her parents have any idea she's gone missing. "It makes me wish we had something to decorate."

"Give it another week," Steve puts in. He shrugs when Bucky glances at him. "Don't tell them I told you, but the guys are trying to figure out how to rig something up."

"That'll be really nice." She grins over at Steve. "Don't worry. We'll act surprised."

Aunt Peggy rolls her eyes, but she looks amused. "Shall we go in?"

"Allow me," Bucky says, and sweeps the door open for them to walk into the gleam and glamour of Selfridges' first floor display.

Light and laughter is everywhere, reflected further from the gleaming crystals of the raindrop chandelier above them.

Sharon looks up and all around, taking it all in. It's all so elegant in a way nothing seems to be anymore in her own time, from the quality of the decorations to the light gleaming from the chandelier to the smartly-dressed associates helping customers.

"Wow," she says, with feeling. "It's beautiful."

"Where would you like to start?" Bucky asks. He gestures at the perfume and cosmetics counters ahead of them, and then up the stairs to the fashion displays.

Steve looks a little pained, but Bucky thinks he's hiding it pretty well. He gives his best friend an apologetic look.

"Why don't we look through the cosmetics and see if we can find something for Maggie?" she asks. "Perfume is a great gift to tell her you know she's grown up now. And you'll probably find something nicer here than in Indiana."

"Sounds good to me," Bucky agrees, and starts toward the nearest counter with her.

The girl working the counter looks up and beams at them. She's sharply dressed and her makeup is tastefully applied. "Good afternoon," she says, greeting them with a smile. "How can I help you today?"

"Hi," Bucky says, with a warm, cheerful smile in answer. "I'm looking for a Christmas present for my mother, and one for my little sister, who insists she's all grown up now." He glances at Sharon, noticing as he does that Peggy is drifting along the other side of the counter, trailed by Steve.

The girl looks inquisitively at Sharon, who lifts her free hand with a laugh. "Not me," she clarifies. "I'm just along for the ride."

"Don't say that," Bucky pleads. "I'm depending on your help here."

He looks back at the shopgirl. "I was thinking a compact, maybe, and Sharon suggested maybe perfume?"

"Both excellent choices," the girl says, and reaches into the counter for a tray of compacts. "How old is your sister, sir? And what is her complexion?"

"Four-- no, uh, she'll be fifteen in February," Bucky realizes. "Wow. Um." He looks a little blank.

"Complexion? She, um, I don't know - her hair's a little lighter than mine?"

Sharon takes pity on him. "Is her skin more like mine or more like Aunt Peggy's?" she asks. "Darker, lighter?"

"Somewhere in between, I guess." Bucky considers. "She takes after our mother, so light brown hair and hazel eyes?"

The girl selects a beautifully embossed compact from the collection and opens it to show them the pressed powder inside. "This is a lovely shade," she tells them. "And the very latest formula, long-lasting but light and silky on the skin."

"May I?" Sharon asks, and the girl nods, smiling, and leans forward to dust a little of the powder over Sharon's nose and forehead and chin. "Well, it does feel nice," Sharon tells him. "And the compact is beautiful."

Edited 2022-12-07 03:08 (UTC)

"Help," Bucky pleads with them. "Would a teenage girl rather have the compact or perfume?"

"I'd go with perfume," Sharon advises. "You might accidentally get the wrong shade and she wouldn't be able to use it. And I bet the perfume you could fine here is more special than makeup. She could get that at a store back home."

He gives her a very relieved look. "Thank you." Bucky looks back at the shopgirl with a winning smile. "So... perfume?"

The girl smiles at him and gestures them over to a different part of the counter, where various perfume bottles of lovely cut glass are displayed.

"This is a lovely new fragrance, if your sister likes a floral scent," she tells them, holding up a bottle of pink liquid. "It's a light, long-wearing rose."

Bucky looks at the perfume as if trying to see if the answer's engraved on the bottle, then gives Sharon a helpless look.

She hides a smile and turns her attention on the girl. "Can you spritz it for me, please?" she asks, and waves her own wrist through the cloud the girl sprays into the air before breathing it in. "That's very nice," she agrees. "Can I see a few more?"

The girl brings out a handful of other bottles and Sharon goes through them with her. Every now and again she gives Bucky a note, but the clerk has clearly decided Sharon's the one who will be making an informed decision.

By the end of it, Sharon nods and points to one of the bottles. "This one," she says, decisively. "You don't get more classically English than rose, but the violet and citrus freshens it up. It'll be perfect for Maggie."

"She's the expert," Bucky says, cheerfully, as if that wasn't already obvious. It's also a reasonable size, whether she'd considered that deliberately or not, and he's glad of it. "I'll take it, and thanks on Maggie's behalf."

"Would you like me to gift-wrap it for you?" the girl asks, and Sharon looks over at Bucky, arching her eyebrows.

He thinks about it, then nods his head. "At least a little ribbon, if you've got it?" It means he'll have to come up with similar for everyone else, but he's got a couple of ideas on how to manage that.

Bucky glances around, checking on Steve, who's still keeping pace at Peggy's side while she talks to someone at another cosmetics counter, then smiles at Sharon. "You're a lifesaver, you know that?"

"You'd have been able to pick something just fine," she says, amused, as the girl delves beneath the counter for a festive ribbon. "But I'm glad to have helped. I hope she likes it."

"I'm sure she will. But I'm not at all sure I'd have figured that out on my own," he laughs. "Was that the one you would have picked for yourself, too? Or is it like picking makeup?"

"Probably not," she admits. "Rose isn't my favorite."

It's a little old-fashioned, not that she can say that right now. "Once you figure out what kind of scents you like, I guess it is kind of like makeup. It's nice to have a signature scent."

“Sounds complicated,” he observes. “So what is your favorite?”

"Honeysuckle," she tells him, idly looking through the bottles as the girl goes off to take care of his purchase. "Clover. Vetiver. Fresh-cut grass. Warm skin."

She smiles over at him. "Something light and natural."

He smiles back, making a mental note as he does. “I can see how that would suit you.”

The girl comes back and offers Bucky a fresh bottle of the perfume Sharon had chose, tucked into a bag of its own. "Thank you very much," she tells them. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"I don't think so," Bucky starts, only to correct himself. "No, wait. Can you point us at which floor we could find shawls?"

The girl smiles back. "Of course. First floor fashion, north side. Have a merry Christmas."

He gives Sharon his arm and starts to walk with her over to Steve and Peggy. "I figure Ma might like a shawl. She gets cold easily these days. And Becky might be able to get her to go out just to show it off."

"I think that's a great present. And really thoughtful."

She takes his arm and strolls with him towards the others. "How is she settling into life in Indiana? Your mom?"

"Okay, I think. She's doing better than she was in Brooklyn, from what Becky says." It's a little quiet, he knows, but he makes himself sound as hopeful as he can. "She's just - she gets tired, is all. Things are easier on her there, with more family around. Fresh country air. That kind of thing."

"Sure."

She squeezes his arm a little, warmly, and turns her smile from him to Steve and Aunt Peggy. "Finding anything good?"

"Just browsing," Peggy says, turning to Sharon. Steve gives Bucky a wry look, and shakes his head very slightly as she continues, "What about you?"

"We found a nice present for Maggie," Sharon tells her, letting go of Bucky and linking her arm with Aunt Peggy's instead, letting Steve and Bucky walk together for the moment. "And Bucky has an idea for something for his mother."

"A shawl," he tells Steve. "Figured it could keep her warm in the house, and maybe Becky could coax her to go out with friends to show it off. She's done stuff like that in the past, you know."

Steve nods. "That's a great idea, Buck."

Bucky smiles at him. "Good. You can help me pick it."

Sometimes, she almost forgets that she's fallen out of her own time, but strolling through this store, with its fashions and trends, brings it home to her again. She chats with Aunt Peggy as they walk towards the north section of the first floor, observing modeled clothing with interest.

"Looks like they're over here," she says over her shoulder to Steve and Bucky, tipping her head towards a selection of wraps and knits.

He trades a look with Steve and nods to the Carter women. "This one I feel more comfortable with," he laughs. "If you two wanted to do a little browsing of your own."

"Alright," Sharon says, amused. "Come on, Aunt Peggy, let's leave them to it."

Peggy chuckles and nods, then strolls with Sharon toward the other end of the store. "You know, they have some lovely garments here."

Bucky watches them go, then turns to Steve. "How's it going?" he asks, under his breath so there's no chance of being overheard. He starts looking through what's on display, but keeps his attention on his best friend.

Steve flushes. "I think she's enjoying, um, being out?"

There's a truly dizzying array of feminine fashion here and Steve doesn't quite know what to do with himself. He's a little afraid to touch anything, but he hovers at Bucky's side and tries to act like he knows anything about shawls. "Coventry Street was nice."

"It was, wasn't it?" Bucky rejects one option that's the ugliest mud-brown he's ever seen and keeps sorting.

"She looks to me like she's having fun. Are you?"

"I don't know if 'fun' is the right word, exactly."

He sets the brown shawl aside and looks at Bucky. "It's just... nice. Really nice. This whole time, we've only ever had a few chances to get to talk about something other than the war or strategy."

"Hey, that counts, pal." He finds one that's a dark navy shade with a few lighter threads worked through it to give accents, then a deep green, and sets them side by side to consider.

"I know you have to be careful. So does she. But there's nothing wrong with getting to know each other better as people."

"You're right about that."

It's funny; Peggy's been an unattainable desire for so long he hardly knows what to do now that he gets to spend a little time with the real person. He hopes she likes getting to know him as much as he's enjoying getting to know her. "I owe Sharon for the help with a present for her."

"I'm sure she was happy to give it." Bucky eyes the two shawls. "You're the artist, which color do you think is better?"

Steve considers them. "I think the green would be nice," he says, slowly. Bucky's mother has flecks of green in her eyes.

"What do you think?"

"I think you're right." Bucky runs his hand lightly over the green shawl. "Soft, too. See?"

Steve reaches out to touch the material, wistful. It's something Sarah Rogers would have liked, too, he thinks. "Next year," he promises: himself, his best friend. "We'll be home for Christmas next year. I'm sure of it."

"You know it." Bucky sets the blue shawl back where he'd gotten it and gathers up the green one, tipping his head back to signal one of the shop girls.

"It'll be a big celebration. Two of them, even - one for us in Brooklyn and one in Indiana. Don't even think about not coming with me there, okay?"

"It'll be my first time going to Indiana where I'll actually be able to see Indiana," Steve points out, amused. Those USO tours went all over, but he'd never really been able to see much of the locations outside the halls and theatres. "You're on, pal."

His grin is quick and bright and filled with mischief. "We won't tell anyone else you're coming. That way you won't have to wear the uniform."

The shop girl who comes up to help them asks politely, "How can I help you gentlemen today?" Bucky turns his smile on her. "I'd like to get this."

"Of course," she says, smiling back, and takes the shawl to wrap it up in tissue paper. Steve, leaning against the counter, glances over at where Sharon and Peggy are browsing. "I guess that's everyone. Except – did you get something for Sharon?"

"When you were talking with her in the first shop," he confirms, visibly pleased with himself. "I might add a couple more little things now that I've seen what she likes today, but that can wait a few days."

Steve can't help chuckling at the look on his best friend's face. "You look like the cat who got the cream," he says. "Okay, glad to hear it."

"All in all, a pretty good day," he says, satisfied, as he passes over payment for the shawl. "I know we have to get back soon, but honestly, Steve, this was worth it."

"I think so, too."

He watches the girls as they stroll and talk, their fondness for one another clear to see. They act almost like sisters, he thinks. "We may as well take advantage of being back in London while we can. It was a good idea, Buck."

"Exactly." His glance follows Steve's. "Good for them, too."

He turns back to the shop girl as she lifts up a bag for him, the shawl neatly stored inside. "Thanks," he tells her, and "Here, hold this," to Steve. Keeping one eye on the Carter women, Bucky hastily redistributes everything but Sharon's dress into the other shopping bag, leaving her purchases separate from the gifts.

Steve grins and holds the bag as requested, then keeps a grip on it, letting Bucky take the other. "You're right about needing to get back," he says, rueful. "But I'll try to drop my letter page off to you tonight, okay?"

"Perfect," Bucky grins. "I'll put it together with the one I still need to finish, and package the stuff for the girls at the same time."

He gives the shop girl a friendly nod of farewell and together with Steve starts over to catch up with Sharon and Peggy.

Sharon looks up at them with a grin as they come near, and Aunt Peggy's expression is just as warm, though more conservative. "All finished? Find something nice?"

"Sure did. Green, cosy, and soft. Just the ticket." He looks back and forth between them.

"All set? Or is there anything else you want to look for while we're here?"

"No," Sharon tells him. "We're all set. Just having fun browsing."

"And, unfortunately, I think we need to be getting back," Aunt Peggy says, glancing at a nearby clock. "But this was... really quite a nice outing. Thank you for the invitation, Captain. Sergeant."

He's proud that Steve doesn't need more than a swift glance at him to take point. "You're welcome, Agent Carter. Agents," Steve adds.

"Very welcome," Bucky agrees, and offers Sharon his arm.

She takes his arm and waits for Steve and Aunt Peggy to lead the way out of the store before she crooks a grin up at him. "Nice going, Barnes," she murmurs. "I call this a win."

"I think so too." He squeezes her hand against his side, just for a second, and smiles down at her.

"Do you have duties when we get back?" she asks. "What's your plan for the evening?"

"I need to take a quick stop by Stark's lab for some one-off thing," he says, "and then a turn through weapons storage after dinner, but I should be clear by twenty hundred hours."

He smiles at his thoughts. "I need to finish my letter to the girls. Want to help? Or do you have another assignment?"

"I'd love to," she says, smiling at the look on his face. Whatever he's thinking about, it seems satisfying. "I owe them a note, myself."

"Yes, you do, and unless you want me to be the only one weighing in on Becky's questions..." He leaves it hanging there.

"Oh, believe me, I'm as curious as Becky to see how you'll answer those questions," she teases. "I wouldn't put my oar in for the world."

A brazen lie, but it's true that she wants to see what he has to say first.

Bucky laughs. "Sure. Uh-huh. Okay." He glances over at her, visibly amused. "What if you don't like the answers?"

"I guess we'll see," she says, pert. "But that would be a surprise."

He shifts a little to shield her from an overeager passerby who's bulling their way down the sidewalk, without having to think about it.

"I'll keep that in mind."

She smiles at that, and at the way he blocks the other pedestrian. "Then I'll come by your quarters a little after twenty-hundred hours, okay?"

"Sounds perfect." Bucky smiles down at her.

It's impossible not to be charmed by that smile. She smiles back and savors the rest of the stroll back to the base, chatting lightly with him and with Steve and Aunt Peggy as they walk. He presents her gallantly with her shopping bag once they're back down to the base level, and she takes it with her to her quarters after they've all gone their separate ways.

The next time she heads to the pub, she'll be able to dress for it.

He takes the other shopping bag back to his quarters and secures it there before heading over to Stark's lab. Turns out that what Stark wants is to ask more and more detailed questions about Zola's lab, which Bucky gets through with clenched teeth and a good deal of stubborn determination. He grabs a quick sandwich from the mess and skips dinner in favor of spending more time on weapons detail, after that. It's a relief, frankly.

She has dinner with Jim Morita and Falsworth, then excuses herself back to her quarters. It's looking more and more likely that she'll be sent on a recon mission soon, so she takes some time to polish up Yvette and her backstory until twenty-hundred hours rolls around.

Once it does, she changes out of her uniform and into the more comfortable slacks, then makes her way toward Bucky's quarters, greeting people as she passes.

He leaves the door propped open when he gets back to his quarters. It'll make it easier for Sharon, and for anyone else who might want to drop by as well.

Bucky makes sure all the gifts are carefully hidden away, then lays out Becky's last letter and gets out pen and paper to start considering what to say.

She leans on the doorjamb and considers him for a moment, smiling at the vision he makes, then raps on the other side of the doorframe lightly. "Knock knock."

He pushes back from the little table that serves as a desk and smiles in real delight. "Aren't you just pretty as a picture."

"I was just thinking you make a pretty nice picture yourself."

She nods to the table and the letter he's working on. "Mind if I come in?"

"Come right on," he tells her. "Look, I even scrounged up another chair." He pulls it forward from where it's half-hidden on the other side of the table.

"Better leave the door open, though. Steve said he might swing by later with a page of his own."

"Fine by me."

For now, anyway. She takes the chair and sits down, then looks over at what he's working on. "So, what do you have so far?"

"Dear Becky," he reads out, the corner of his mouth twitching with suppressed laughter. "You never were very patient. But as I figure you probably would join the WACs if I don't answer your questions, I'll let you get your way just this once."

"Good start," she says, encouragingly, and reaches for the page he has nearby, with Becky's questions in her neat handwriting. "So, who am I?"

"Hm. I don't have that much space for details," Bucky muses. "I better be careful."

He taps the end of the pen against the desk for a second or two, considering. "She's on assignment with us," he suggests, writing slowly as he talks. "And no, she's not Agent P's sister, but she's part of her extended family, so she's connected. That's how she ended up here, although PC didn't tell us about it in advance. Sharon just appeared one day, pretty much out of thin air."

He stops there and gives her a bland, innocent look.

"That's one way to put it," she laughs, leaning an elbow on the desk, her chin in her hand.

"'How did you meet her?'" She reads, and glances at Bucky, eyes dancing. "Maybe you shouldn't tell her you pulled a gun on me at first."

"No?" he challenges, raising his eyebrows. "Okay, how would you put it?"

She considers, for a moment.

"'Dear Becky,'" she says. "'Your brother was the first person I met when I arrived. He held me at gunpoint and then suggested I'd cause a riot in the camp. About ten minutes later he asked if I wanted to go dancing.'"

"I thought you said not to tell her about pulling the gun on you," he laughs. "When you put it like that it sounds kind of bad."

"I only said you probably shouldn't," she points out, grinning. "Not that I wouldn't."

She wrinkles her nose at him, amused. "You could tell her you were out taking a walk when I arrived, and helped me find Aunt Peggy. That's all true."

"Oh, I see how this goes. Okay then." Bucky considers the paper for a second or two.

"I was near the edge of camp when she showed up unannounced," he recites. "I have to say, she practically knocked me off my feet. After a little bit of a misunderstanding, I brought her in to PC."

"You might say I really fell for you," Sharon teases, and looks at the next questions.

"Why let me write to them?"

"I sure could. It'd be true," he observes, and examines the letter again.

"I offered to let her write to you because I thought she'd have fun with it and you'd find it a neat surprise. Besides, I think you'd really like her, if you ever met."

Bucky looks up at her. "I do think that. I have all along."

"I think I'd really like them, too," she tells him, with a small, crooking smile. "And I did have fun writing to them."

His answering smile is warm. "I wouldn't be surprised if they start writing to you, too. Becky at least."

"I'd like that a lot," she murmurs, and glances down at the letter again, more to take her mind off the complicated feelings that arise at the thought of being here long enough to become penpals with Bucky's sisters.

But the next question only makes her laugh again. "What do I look like?"

Bucky shakes his head and grins at that. "Let's see..."

He eyes Sharon consideringly, then reads as he writes, "I'm afraid you're all just going to have to use your imagination until I can talk one of the newsies around here into taking a picture of her. She's pretty, though, with blonde hair and hazel eyes."

Edited 2022-12-08 06:23 (UTC)

"'Pretty' is good," she teases. "Glad to hear you think so."

She's not sure what to do about the picture. There must be somewhere around here where she can get one taken for him, right?

He makes a face at her, trying not to laugh aloud. “You know it’s more than that, right? But these are my sisters.”

"I guess I'll have to get you to write me a letter to find out the rest," she says, swallowing her own laugh.

As if he doesn't tell her all the time. Her lips twitch as she suppresses her grin and looks back at Becky's letter. "This one we've got an official answer for, finally. You can tell her I'm part of the SSR."

"Guess I should." Maybe he will, at that. He tries to imagine her face as she reads it and has to suppress a grin.

"So I can, more or less, anyway." He writes, "We're all working together as part of the same team. Keep an eye on the newsreels! You never know who you might see."

"Talk about things that would confuse the timeline," she murmurs, but she's smiling. Nick would be so mad at her if she got caught on a video recording in 1944. She can just hear him now.

"And yes, I did read that letter."

"Unless you're already on one and just no one noticed?" he counters, then reads aloud, "And not only did she read the letter you sent, but she's writing back to you now separately. I don't know if she's going to let me read that one, but I guess I'll find out. I'll put it in the packet with this one and Steve's, too. Tell Maggie that yes, she knows Steve, but they're just friends."

She chuckles at his reassurance to Maggie, then shakes her head. "Better not tell her about Aunt Peggy just yet," she advises. "Those teenage crushes are powerful forces."

"No kidding." Bucky shakes his head, a rueful expression on his face. "I figure she'll probably grow out of it, but in the meantime Steve's being careful with her."

She thinks about her own pre-teen and teenage crushes formed only on photos and stories of Captain America and his best friend, and has to laugh. "That's because Steve's a good man."

"Glad to know you two say nice things when you're talking about me behind my back," comes Steve's amused voice. He's standing in the doorway, looking a little abashed but smiling. "Thought I'd come drop off my contribution."

"Better believe it," Bucky teases him, waving him on in through the door. "Anything else I'd say to your face."

Suppressed amusement at the ridiculousness of that thought sparkles in his eyes as he teases him.

Steve comes in, holding a few pieces of paper. The top one is covered in his handwriting. "I believe it," he jokes, and tries to swallow his nerves. "Here's my page for the girls."

He buys himself a moment by tipping the papers up as he hands over the top sheet, then takes a deep breath as he glances down at the sketch below. "And... since they were asking, and I know there hasn't been any time to get a photograph..."

He hands the other two sheets to Bucky, swallowing his nerves. The top sheet is a portrait of Sharon at three-quarter view. He'd tried to get the details right, from her slightly crooked smile to the way her hair falls over her shoulders when she wears it down.

The second sketch is one of Sharon and Bucky together, taken from a memory of them talking and laughing at the pub one night. He'd tried to capture as many details as he could.

Bucky sets the letter page on the corner of the desk, ready to fold up with the others, and gives Steve a quizzical look as he hesitates. He takes the other sheets as Steve explains and looks down, then feels the breath leave his body as he stares.

And stares. And stares, unable at first to speak as he traces every line with his gaze, takes in every detail.

Carefully, he sets them both side by side on the desk so Sharon can see too, then looks up at his best friend. "You're a hell of an artist, Rogers."

Steve can't help the smile that presses into his cheeks, boyish and delighted, though he tries to contain it. "I couldn't decide on which," he says, as Sharon lightly touches the drawn Bucky's arm, studying the sketch.

"I figured, if I did both, you could pick if you wanted to send one and keep one, or send both."

Edited 2022-12-08 15:29 (UTC)

His answering grin is as bright as sunshine. "That's some choice." Bucky brushes his fingertips over the edge of the sketches again, then ignores any and all reserve to get up and enfold Steve in a hug.

"Thanks," he whispers, for his best friend's ears alone.

He hugs Bucky back, squeezing him tightly. "You're welcome," he murmurs, pleased beyond measure that his best friend likes his little gift. "I know they're not photographs, but..."

But he'd done his best, and Bucky's happy with it. "You're welcome," he says again, simply.

"As good as," he promises. "Better than."

There's no way he can explain that the care shown in Steve's gift also reflects his friend's acceptance of Sharon's importance in his life, to his way of thinking.

He pulls back with a grin and leaves his arm draped around Steve's shoulder for a moment as he looks at Sharon. "He's pretty good, isn't he?"

"He really is."

She can't get over the drawings, the way he'd sketched them together. She hasn't looked at the photo she'd taken since she took it, because her phone has finally given up the ghost and died, but she thinks the sketch is just as perfect. "I love them."

"So do I." He glances at Steve. "Stick around for a bit, take a load off," he invites. "We're working on my answers to Becky's questions, and I can get that hairbrush set wrapped up for you."

Steve gives her a glance and she smiles encouragingly at him. "Definitely stay," she agrees. "I still need to write my own response to them."

There's still only two chairs, but that's okay. He gives Steve a gentle push toward the end of the bed and goes to pull out the vanity set from where he'd stashed it with his clothes.

Bucky glances at the door, just in case, and keeps it hidden in a piece of toweling as he brings it back.

The pang she gets as she sees that well-known, much-loved set is sharp and swift. Her lips ruck up in a crooked smile as she watches Bucky bring it over to Steve. "How will you wrap it?" she asks, curious.

"I'm not sure," Steve admits, holding it carefully in his hands as if he's afraid it might explode. "Tie ribbons on each of them, I guess."

Bucky considers, then takes down the cigar box that he's been keeping the girls' letters in and holds it over the set to eyeball size.

Sharon considers it, then frowns. "I might have a shoebox in my room," she says. "Want me to run and get it?"

Bucky beams at her. "That'd be swell, if you wouldn't mind."

"Not even a little."

She gets up and offers the chair to Steve. "Here, Steve. I'll be back in a second."

Steve stands when she does, and rests one hand on the back of the chair. "Thank you," he says, and Bucky's pretty darn sure he means more than for the box alone.

She smiles at him, warm, and wonders what might happen to the world if Peggy Carter and Howard Stark could find him in the ice. Would it be so bad?

Sharon gives him a wink and heads out into the corridor, trying to push the thoughts away.

"These really are amazing," Bucky says, as soon as she's out of earshot. "I didn't even know you were working on this."

"I got the idea that night Howard tried to send her home," Steve admits. "When you told me about that picture she'd taken. That, and Becky asking about what she looks like..."

He shrugs, shyly pleased with himself. "I'm really glad you like them. I figured... if things go the way we... if she goes back home, you might be glad of a picture."

"Definitely," he says. "And I really do. Like them, I mean." Bucky grins. "So will Becky and the other girls. What I wrote to them was a little light on detail."

He hands Steve the letter so he can see for himself.

Steve chuckles as he reads Bucky's handwriting. "Well, it's accurate," he says, encouraging. "And helpful, with the sketch. I couldn't find any paints or colored pencils or anything, so it's good you told them her hair and eye color."

"Yeah. And the pretty part will be obvious." Bucky shakes his head, smiling. "It's probably just as well Sharon's writing them too. They can ask her all the things they want to directly."

He's a little worried about what happens if the girls get to know Sharon only for her to be taken away and back to her own time, but he's expressed his concerns often enough. And he knows Bucky thinks about them, too. "They'll enjoy that," he says, smiling. "I bet she and Becky would get along like a house on fire."

"I'm sure they would. Can you imagine?" He can, all too well, and tries not to let himself.

Sharon's going home. They'll find a way.

"Yeah, I can."

Easily. Just like he can easily see Sharon joining them at Coney Island, or walking around Brooklyn. It's been months, now, and even though he hasn't given up hope, he's starting to wonder if that door back to her own time will ever open again. "They'd both get a kick out of giving you a hard time."

“No kidding.” He chuckles. “You’d have to help me out on defense, pal.”

"You don't even have to ask."

Happily, it seems like Sharon's as smitten with Bucky as he is with her, so Steve's reasonably sure he won't have to do much in the way of defense, if any of this ever came to pass. "So, which drawing do you think you'll send? Or both? I can do another one for you," he offers, in case that weren't already an offer obviously on the table.

"It's hard to decide," he admits. "The one of us together kind of gives them an idea about the... well, the way things are," he settles on. "The other's a really clear look at what she looks like."

Steve gives him a steady look. "How much do you want them to know about the... the way things are?" he asks, carefully. "Considering – well. Considering."

"Pretty sure they already suspect," he admits. "Or that Becky does, anyway. But you've got a point."

Bucky stares at the pictures for a moment, then decisively sets the one of him and Sharon together on top of his books and puts the portrait with Steve's page for the letter.

Steve's pretty sure they'll suspect a whole lot once they get this letter, with a whole page from Sharon in it. "Have you," he starts, then licks his lips, unsure of how to continue.

"If... if she can't go back. Have you talked about it, at all?"

He casts a quick glance at the door, making sure there's no sign of her return yet, then nods.

"Some. Just a little. More talked around it than anything." He takes a slow breath, letting it out just as slowly.

"I figure - I figure there's going to be a way," he says, finally. "Not that I have a clue what it is, or when. But there's probably going to be one. Either that or all this changing the timeline business that Howard talks about is stuff and nonsense. So I'm trying not to let myself think about it too much."

If changing the timeline is stuff and nonsense, then maybe she can stay here. But he knows better than to say anything like that right now – he knows how Bucky feels about getting her back home.

Still, he thinks he might make a copy of that portrait for him. Just in case. "I hear you, pal."

He gives Steve a wry smile. "I mean, nothing's exploded yet, right? So. There's got to be a way."

Steve frowns at him, thinking. "Unless... it's not exploding because this is the timeline."

"Could be." Bucky shrugs. "She's the only one who knows what the future says about us. She's being careful not to break things by saying too much, and I haven't pushed. Or even asked, except for one thing."

Edited 2022-12-09 03:30 (UTC)

"I guess we'll see."

He's desperately curious about the future. Sharon could tell them how to win the war, how to fix everything. She could tell him if he – if Peggy –

But he hasn't asked. He's not even sure he wants to know. "But one thing's for certain: your sisters are going to be even more curious about her after this."

"We sure will." He sounds confident, even as his expression turns ruefully accepting. "And yeah, I know they are. I figure I'll get about a million questions with the next letter. But that's okay."

Steve chuckles. "No kidding. I think you're going to be sparking a lot more questions than you're answering."

Bucky laughs, clear and bright. "I'd be lying if I said that wasn't part of the fun of it."

Steve's laugh rumbles in his chest. "Then you deserve everything you're going to get from them," he says, amused. "Going to volunteer any information, or just answer what they asked?"

“Dunno yet. They asked a lot,” he points out. “We’ll see what comes to me. Enough to keep Becky from joining the WACs for sure.”

"Not that I wouldn't love to see her," Steve laughs. "But let's make sure that's when we get home, and not when she comes here."

"She'd love to see you too. They all would." Mischief sparkles in his eyes. "Especially Maggie, maybe."

Steve groans and hides his face in his hands. "Don't remind me."

Bucky laughs and claps Steve on the shoulder. "Don't worry. She'll grow out of it."

"I hope so," he says, muffled. He'd never had to navigate anything like this with Becky, but with Maggie it was like, one day, a switch just flipped.

Steve scrubs his face and gives Bucky a rueful glance. "It can't last that long, right?"

"Right," he reassures him, with a grin. "And, you know, there's worse people for her to have her first crush on. At least I know you're not going to give her a hard time about it."

"Of course not," Steve says, sincerely. "I just don't want to hurt her feelings."

"I know. You never would. That's not the kind of guy you are." Bucky's absolute faith in his best friend is audible.

Steve smiles over at his best friend as a knock comes at the door and Sharon returns, brandishing an empty shoebox. "This should work," she says, pleased, and offer it to Steve, who nods.

"I think you're right."

"Perfect," Bucky agrees. "Sharon, thanks for helping out with this. Both the finding and the packaging."

"Happy to help out," she says, perching on the edge of the bed. Steve opens the shoebox and starts carefully setting the vanity set into the tissue paper inside. "Besides, Steve's clearly done me a solid with those drawings."

He grins at that. “Makes two of us.”

Bucky taps the portrait. “I figure to send them this one and keep the other.”

"I think that's perfect."

Steve closes the box lid and looks pleased with himself. "That's going to work great. All it needs is a little paper or a ribbon."

"I'll see what I can scrounge up," he offers. "I'm going to be doing that for the girls' presents anyway."

"If it won't be any trouble." Steve stands, lifting the box. "Thanks again. I'll let you go ahead and finish that letter."

"I guess you'll need to edit it a little," Sharon tells Bucky, laughing. "Have a good night, Steve."

"Maybe a little," he agrees, untroubled. "Night, Steve. See you first thing tomorrow after dealing with Howard."

"Night, all."

Steve lifts a hand to them and heads out of Bucky's quarters, while Sharon crosses one leg over the other and leans back on her hands. "That was really nice of him," she says.

"It really was." Quiet, yet fond. "He said he'd do another, too, if I wanted to send both of these."

Sharon gets up and goes to softly close the door, then comes to stand behind him, setting her hands lightly on his shoulders so she can lean down to drop a kiss into his hair. "I'm sure he would."

He tips his head back to smile up at her. "He will. But I think I'm keeping the one of the two of us here anyway."

She slips a hand off his shoulder, leaning against him, and touches the drawing lightly. "Good," she murmurs. "I really like that one."

“So do I.” He’s looking at her as she looks at the sketch. “He’s got a gift.”

"He really does."

She smiles over at him, then leans down to kiss his mouth, gently. "Want to finish your letter?"

“We should. And you still have one to write, too, don’t you?” His answering smile is warm and filled with laughter.

He doesn’t let himself reach for. He’s not sure he’d let go.

"I sure do. And I'm sure I'll need assistance with it," she says, solemnly, before she kisses him again.

He makes a small sound against her mouth and turns in his chair so that he can put an arm around her waist and draw her down to sit on his lap.

She lets him coax her down to his lap, then puts her arms around his neck and kisses him once more. "I had a really nice time today," she murmurs. "Did you?"

"I'm glad. And yes, I did." He holds her close in the curve of his arm and leans up into her kiss before he picks up his pen and teasingly bats at her shoulder with it.

"Letters," he says, mock-stern. "Come on, Agent."

She mock-sighs and laughs, then releases one arm from around his neck. "Yes, sir, Sergeant," she teases. "Where were we?"

He reads over the letter to check. "I'm supposed to tell her about care package stuff, I think. Plus whatever else we want to say to avoid that 'or else'."

Bucky glances up at her. "So... anything else we should tell her about you?"

"I think probably what she wants to know most is the thing you're having the most fun not telling her," she teases. "Which is 'are we involved'?"

Not that she can blame him. She has no siblings, but it definitely seems like teasing them is one of the benefits of having them.

"Who, me?" he laughs. Bucky taps the pen against the page in thought, then pulls it close so Sharon can read along as he writes.

"Steve came by while I was writing before - you've got a page from him in this packet, and a drawing he made so you can see what Sharon looks like, better than I could describe her."

He pauses for a second and presses a light kiss to her upper arm, then keeps writing. "As for that 'anything else' you asked about... okay, fine, yes, we're seeing each other. She's pretty special. But I'll let her tell you about all that in her letter."

"Kicking the can down the road, huh, Barnes?"

But her teasing is light and fond and lacks any kind of heat. She presses a kiss to his soft hair and smiles at him. "I hope they'll approve."

"They will. They may be a little surprised, but they'll approve." He smiles back at her.

"But yes, I figure you're better suited to answer questions about why the heck you agreed to go out with me in the first place, which believe me Becky will ask."

"You trying to tell me there are people who say 'no' to that question?" she laughs. "I didn't even have to think about it."

He chuckles. "There've been a few, yes."

Her aunt, for one.

"Their loss."

And her impossible gain. She gives his temple a fond kiss. "I'll happily answer that in my letter."

“I can’t wait to see what you come up with,” he says, cheerfully.

“Let’s see. I’m supposed to tell them about care package stuff…and then I’ll tell them about London at the holidays, and how it compares to New York.”

"What will you ask for in the care package?"

Just like Steve, she suspects he'd be fine with anything they sent, to his sisters' annoyance.

“That’s part of why it’s taken so long for me to write this letter,” he admits. “I really don’t know.”

Bucky shrugs. “I liked that local paper idea. I’ll say maybe they can wrap stuff in newspaper sheets. But beyond that, no clue. Socks, I guess. Maybe a pair of knitted gloves, or even two.”

"Maybe a hat?"

She ruffles his hair with her fingers. "Keep that handsome head warm."

Bucky grins at her. “Think I’d look cute in a cap?”

"I think you'd look cute in anything," she laughs. "But yes."

He sets down his pen so he can take her hand in his. Bucky lifts it to kiss her fingers. “Okay then. I’ll ask for a hat.”

She traces the edge of his smile with her thumb, smiling back at him. "Excellent choice, Sergeant."

He holds still and lets her, smiling back, just lost in this moment here with her.

Sharon leans in to kiss him, very gently. "Maybe I should go back to my quarters," she murmurs. "I don't know if you'll get your letter finished if I stick around."

“I don’t either,” he laughs. “Go write yours and come back? I’ll finish mine before you do.”

"You drive a hard bargain, Barnes," she teases, before reluctantly standing up. "Give me an hour?"

“You got it.” But he leans up to kiss her first before she moves too far away. “Bargaining’s fun.”

"You just like to tease," she laughs, but kisses him back. "Okay. One hour."

“That too,” he agrees, untroubled. “See you in a little while, darling.”

She gives him a wink and slips from his room, heading to hers with a brisk step. Once there, she sits down at her desk and takes out a sheet of paper and a pen of her own, then taps the pen against the table, thinking, before she starts to write.

It takes him a while to settle to it, but eventually he gets into the rhythm of the letter. He thanks them for the knitting circle, shares everyone else’s wishes, then his own - including a hat.

He writes about the people he’s met in various places, without giving away specific locations, telling them stories and trying to keep them cheerful about his ‘adventure’ overseas.

Another Christmas away, but hopefully it’ll be the last one. The war has to end soon. Everything’s pointing to it.

There are so many things she can't tell the Barnes sisters, but she focuses on what she can, and on what she thinks they're most curious about. By the time the hour is up, she has a page in neat writing that she folds up and takes with her as she heads back to Bucky's quarters.

He stacks his letter on top of the portrait of Sharon, on top of Steve’s letter.

Satisfied, Bucky props his door open and idly wanders back to the desk to sort through the couple of books that’d come in the last distribution round.

She watches him for a moment before coming in, holding her letter up. "Hi. All done?"

“All done,” he says. “Want to read it?”

Edited 2022-12-10 21:50 (UTC)

"Sure."

She comes over to lean against his desk and look down at him. "Then I can read you mine, if you want."

“Oh, I definitely want.” He smiles, warm and bright, and passes his letter over as he pulls out the chair for her.

She takes the offered seat and reads through his letter, smiling at his stories and the way he writes to his sisters. It's clear how much he loves and misses them, just as much as they love and miss him.

Sharon hands him his letter back, smiling. "It's great, baby."

“So it passes muster?” he teases. “Good. I’m glad.”

More seriously, he adds, “I just don’t want them to worry too much. And of course a lot of the big stuff I can’t talk about anyway. So I tell them the things I like, so they can imagine it too.”

"Of course it does."

Can she really let all these hearts be broken? What difference would it really make if one man got to live instead of die? How much could that possibly change? Even when his best friend is Captain America, would Bucky living be so world-shattering?

She tries for a smile and lifts her own page. "Want to hear what I have?"

“I can’t wait.” He settles on his own chair across from her and looks expectant, even as a flicker of concern runs through him at the strain behind her smile.

It has to be hard, so far from her own home and family without even a letter to send. He sets his mind to mulling over the problem, again, while he prepares to listen.

She settles herself in the chair and unfolds her page. "Dear Becky, Maggie, Cora, and Katie," she reads. "Thank you for the laugh you gave me with all your questions. I have to admit that I'm just as curious about all of you, even though, as you guessed, I think I've heard more about you than you've heard about me. Your brother talks about you all the time and I feel like I know you all already."

She glances a smile at Bucky as she keeps reading. "So, to even the odds, I'll tell you a little about me. I grew up in Richmond, Virginia. My parents tried to make a lady out of me, but I was always climbing trees, getting into fights with boys, and getting into trouble. The person I'm closest to is my great-aunt. All my life, I've tried to be as much like her as possible. Of course, she was always having adventures and getting into scrapes, so emulating her makes for a pretty exciting life, sometimes."

He’s enchanted within the first few words, and gives her full attention as she reads.

He can just imagine a younger Sharon running around, especially remembering the few pictures she’d shown him on that miracle camera of hers.

Trying to imagine Peggy Carter getting into scrapes is a little harder, but when he thinks about it, he can see it. Sort of.

"For example," she continues, giving him a mischievous glance, "I never expected to be where I am right now. No one was more surprised than me to find myself here in the middle of the war."

Bucky laughs aloud. “Maybe not no one,” he teases. “I was pretty surprised.”

She wrinkles her nose at him in a grin and goes back to reading. "That's one reason why I'm so grateful to have met your brother," she continues.

"I know in his letter he told you we're seeing each other, but before that, he was my first friend here. He helped me adjust to life in the camp and has been a steadfast supporter, defender, and confidante ever since. He'll joke and say he doesn't know why I agreed to go out with him, but the answer is simple: because he's one of the best and kindest men I've ever known. And because he makes me laugh."

Edited 2022-12-10 22:54 (UTC)

By the time she finishes this section, Bucky’s staring at her wide-eyed, caught off guard and flushing a little.

“Sharon,” he whispers.

The glance she gives him is warm and impossibly fond. "All of which I'm sure you four know better than anyone," she continues. "I can only imagine how much you miss him. I'm incredibly lucky to be able to spend time with him. And I promise to try and keep an eye on him for all of you. Not that I can do a better job of that than Steve already does."

He chuckles a little at that - she’s right, Steve’s dedicated to them all, but there’s not a man who doesn’t know that it was Bucky’s capture that spurred Cap’s first rescue mission.

He reaches to catch her hand, twining his fingers with hers and bending his head to kiss them.

She laces her fingers with his and takes a moment to shove away the swell of sadness that threatens to overwhelm her. Never before has she struggled so much to do her duty, or even thought about letting her personal feelings get in the way.

"We went shopping in London today and met a friendly cat who fell in love with Bucky instantly," she reads. "That's not an important story, I just thought you should know, because I would never deny you the mental image of him petting a big, lazy, orange cat with a purr like a motor. Clearly, his charm works on animals and people alike."

She licks her lip and keeps reading. "I hope all this will put your minds at rest about your brother and me. Now, I want to hear all about you girls. How are you liking Indiana? What do all of you like to do when you have some free time? Does that dog from next door still come by? What's your favorite thing to do in the winter? I used to love to go sledding and ice skating. Do you have snow yet? And, of course, I'd appreciate any embarrassing stories about your big brother."

“Ice skating?” he murmurs. “Oh, I’d love to take you to New York for Christmas.”

Bucky smiles up at her. “You’re going to get a book’s worth of letters back, you know that, right?”

"I'd like that, too," she murmurs, and smiles before returning to her letter.

"I hope you all have a very happy holiday. Please give my best to your mother. Very sincerely, Sharon Carter."

Setting the page aside, she smiles at him again. "What do you think?"

“I think it’s perfect. And so are you.”

He reaches to cup his hand around the nape of her neck and leans his forehead against hers.

She leans towards him and sets her hands on his thighs, closing her eyes and breathing him in. "I'm pretty far from perfect, darling," she murmurs. "But I'm glad you liked the letter. I hope they do, too."

“They will,” he assures her. Bucky runs his fingers along her throat and lays his hand against her shoulder.

“I know it’s got to be hard on you. With the holidays coming,” he says, very softly. “I promise we’ll make it as special as we can.”

"I'm trying not to think about it."

About that, or anything else that she can't, or shouldn't, change. She lifts a hand and strokes it over his hair. "But at least I'll get to spend them with you."

“I wasn’t sure,” he murmurs. “If you’d rather tell me about what it’s like, back where you’re from, or not consider it.”

He tilts his head into her touch. “I could imagine for you. What it’d be like if we were in New York together. And tell you about that, instead.”

"I'll tell you about it," she promises, and sinks her fingers into his hair, toying gently with the soft strands. "And I'd love to hear about what Christmas would be like in New York."

She tugs very lightly at his hair. "Come curl up with me while we talk?"

“Let me lock the door,” he murmurs. “And then yes.”

He leans over to kiss her, sweet and lingering, then gets to his feet.

She waits for him to lock the door, then gets up and reaches for his hand, coaxing him over to the bed. "So," she murmurs. "Christmas with the Carters. There's only three of us, and my parents are older, so Christmas was always pretty quiet and cozy."

“Did you still hang up stockings? Have a tree, decorate, all that?” He’s wildly curious. Bucky settles back on the bed, leaning against the wall, and coaxes her in turn to curl up beside him, in his arms.

"Uh-huh."

She curls against him and settles her head on his shoulder, her arms going around his middle. "Every year, we'd get a tree in the first week of December. Then we'd spend an evening listening to Christmas music and decorating it. My mom loves collecting ornaments. She has some beautiful glass ones she puts up every year."

He runs one hand gently up and down her arm as she talks. “Sounds lovely. Must really make the tree sparkle.”

"It does. We use white lights on the tree, and they look like stars caught in the branches."

She cuddles closer, as if by holding onto him a little more tightly she could pull him into her world and her time, where he'd be safe and the war would be over. "We each get new pajamas on Christmas Eve, and Christmas morning we open our stockings while we have coffee. Then we have a lazy brunch before we open presents."

“Wearing your new pajamas?” It’s oddly enchanting. He likes the image he’s seeing in his mind’s eye.

"Wearing our new pajamas," she confirms. "So Christmas is pretty low-key. But New Year's is a whole other ballgame."

She smiles up at him. "Remember the house I showed you? The one in Virginia? We throw a big New Year's Eve party there every year. Everyone dresses up. Sometimes black tie, sometimes cocktail attire. There's champagne and shrimp and oysters and the whole house is lit up."

Bucky lets out a low whistle. “That’s one fancy party.” He presses a light kiss to her hair.

“The big hotels put on shindigs like that. Never been to one myself, but it’s something to see everyone heading in, and the way it’s all decorated.”

"It is," she agrees. "My parents love it. I haven't been able to be home for it for a while now, but they tell me all about it."

She reaches to tug affectionately at his shirt. "I could just see you there, dressed to the nines, charming all my parents' friends."

“With you on my arm, nobody’d be looking at me,” he teases. “I bet you’d outshine everyone.”

"Not a chance," she teases back. "You're irresistible, baby. They'd all think so, too."

She reaches to fold back his collar and places a light kiss against the side of his neck. "Tell me about what it would be like in New York?"

He shivers a little at the touch of her lips. “Well, you already heard about my attempt at a tree last year,” he says, dryly. “The year before it was a branch, but a nice big one, really green and fresh, so almost a tree.”

Bucky looks down at her and smiles. “One year I got clever with a knife and made tinsel out of wood shavings. Steve drew us a set of ornaments like the ones he sent the girls, and we lit candles and watched the way the flickering light made it all seem to sparkle.”

"Smart," she says, smiling. "Inventive. It sounds really cosy."

“It was.” He smiles back. “We always did stockings, too. Sometimes we had to get clever to fill the girls’, but usually we managed to figure something out. And then Steve and I would do one for each other, of course.”

He curves his arm around her waist and cuddles her closer. “We’d go up to Rockefeller Center and look at the big tree there, and the way everything was lit up, and just take it all in. There’s nothing like New York at Christmastime. It’s gorgeous.”

"I'd love to see it with you," she murmurs. "Walk around downtown like we did today. See the big tree. Go skating."

Her smile is crooked and rueful. "Eat some roasted nuts."

“I’d buy you a cone full,” he promises. “We could walk through the tree lots and pretend it was a forest. Then skate over the ice like we were dancing.”

"Build a snowman in the park," she suggests. "And then warm up with a cup of hot cocoa."

“Exactly.” He tucks a lock of hair back from her face.

“New Year’s might not be as nice as what you’re used to,” he admits. “Watch the ball drop from a rooftop, make a wish, make a toast.”

"It sounds perfect to me."

She tips her head into his touch, her gaze on his face. "As long as I get to kiss you at midnight."

“At midnight,” he murmurs, “and after, and before—“

He kisses her, slow and sweet and lingering over the taste of her mouth.

She makes a soft sound against his mouth and melts into him. "Pretend it's New Year's Eve," she whispers. "And we're up on that roof, and the ball just dropped."

She kisses him once more, slow. "Make a wish, baby."

It’s not fair to make the wish he wants to make, so he makes himself wish for as much time as is possible for them to have, instead.

“Okay, angel,” he whispers, and kisses her again. “Happy New Year.”

"Happy New Year, darling," she murmurs, and kisses him back, sliding her hand along the back of his neck and slipping her fingers into his hair. Each kiss is lazy and sweet and lingering, and she can't get enough of them, or of him.

Edited 2022-12-11 03:14 (UTC)

He makes a low sound against her mouth and pulls her closer as he returns each slow kiss with another.

“Merry Christmas too. Everything.”

"Bucky."

She lets herself drown in him, in his taste and scent and warmth, then shifts up onto her knees, facing him, so she can cradle his head in her hands and kiss him again and again. "You're already everything I want."

"My angel," he murmurs, leaning up into her touch as he settles his hands at her hips and kisses her, kisses her, kisses her. "My darling.

"Sweetheart."

She nips lightly at his lower lip and grins, mischievous, then shifts to lift a knee over his legs and settle into his lap. "Come play with me, baby."

"How can I possibly say no to you?" he laughs, and leans up to kiss her again as he skims his hands lightly up her sides and around her back, delivering long, slow caresses.

"It's definitely possible," she teases. "But I'm glad you don't."

Usually. "Because I can't get enough of you."

"I feel the same." He runs his hands over her curves and starts to kiss a slow, deliberate path along her throat.

She tips her head to give him access to her throat, and sinks her fingers into his hair to play with it the way she knows he loves. "Sweet soldier boy," she murmurs, and presses herself against his chest, holding onto him like nothing could ever make her let go.

Edited 2022-12-11 16:36 (UTC)

He hums against her skin, delighting in the feel of her fingers in his hair, and draws on the sensitive skin at the crook of her neck, flicking over that spot with his tongue.

She shivers in his arms as he kisses that spot, then runs her hands down along his chest and starts undoing his shirt buttons. "I think you'll like that new dress," she murmurs. "I'll wear it the next time we go dancing."

“You’ll knock ‘em dead,” he assures her. “I’ll fall at your feet.” He arches into her touch, pulling her close against him.

"I don't care about anyone else's opinion."

He pulls her close and she rolls her hips against him, slipping her hands beneath his undone shirt to roam over his undershirt. "I only care if you like it."

“I’ll look forward to it.” He tugs at her tucked-in shirt, pulling it free from her slacks.

“I’m so lost in you, baby,” he murmurs, and kisses her again.

"I feel the same way."

Drunk on him, electricity skittering over her skin with every touch and every kiss. She paints her palms down his stomach and starts unfastening his belt and the catch of his trousers. "Bucky, you're like oxygen to me."

His smile flashes at that, warm and bright, even as his eyes darken with desire. “Breathe me in.”

He goes from the bottom up, opening her shirt and revealing her camisole and undergarments, then kisses the hollow of her throat.

She laughs, breathless, and tips her head back, her hair falling down over her shoulders and back in a waterfall of gold. "I will," she promises. "I need to."

She finishes undoing his trousers and brushes her fingers over the tight, thin fabric of his undershorts.

He can’t keep his hips from bucking at her touch, pressing against her. Bucky groans aloud and runs his hands over her body, cupping the curves of her breasts and teasing her nipples with his fingers through her undergarments.

The sound he makes rips through her like lightning. "Baby," she murmurs, stroking him through the material of his shorts. "Let me take care of you."

“I want,” he murmurs, petting her. “I want to feel you, all of you, all around me, your skin warm against mine, the way you tremble in my arms.”

"You will," she promises, slipping her fingers through the opening of his shorts to wrap around him. "All of me, darling."

His blood surges within him and he’d swear he can feel his heartbeat double. He makes an inarticulate sound and rolls his hips, driving his length against her caressing hand.

"Yes," she murmurs, watching him as she strokes along his length. "Yes, baby."

She leans in and presses kisses along his throat, tracing the vein there and the racing blood beneath.

“Clothes,” he manages, fighting for self-control. Her touch feels like velvet on his skin, but he wants to feel all of her.

"Take off your shirt."

She sheds her own, then reaches back down to stroke him again before she shifts back and starts coaxing his slacks and shorts over his hips.

He does as she tells him, discarding his dress shirt and undershirt before giving himself up to her coaxing. “Yours too.”

"In a minute," she teases, tugging his pants and shorts off. She nudges a knee between his legs, coaxing him to open them and let her between his knees, then leans down to take him into her mouth, her hair falling over her shoulder and brushing against his thigh.

“Sharon, angel, god—“

He throws his head back, cords standing out in his neck from the force of self-restraint, and smooths his hands over her shoulders and down her upper arms.

She hums around him and settles herself between his legs, taking him deep and slow over and over. All her focus is on the sounds he makes, the way he reacts, trying to give him exactly what he needs and wants.

Her little hum vibrates through him like a tuning fork. Bucky feels his eyes roll back in his head as he responds to her kisses and caresses, the warmth and generosity of her compelling and almost overwhelming.

She curls her fingers around the base of his length and keeps coaxing him with both mouth and touch. Every groan, every shake of his body, is like music to her, and she does what she can to coax as much pleasure from him as possible.

"Sweetheart," he says, urgently, wanting her to know how close to the edge he is. "I can't hold back much longer--"

Coherence dissolves with his words as his moan catches him and he arches his back, lost to the feelings she's inciting in him.

She takes him deep one last time, then wriggles to get out of her slacks and underthings. She keeps her fingers wrapped around him, teasingly stroking, as she sits up. "Condom?"

Rather than try to find the words to explain, he twists at the waist to reach to the little drawer where he has them stashed, and pulls one out. "Here," he manages, his voice rough, as he moves against her and reaches to cup her cheek with his other hand.

She tears it open with her teeth and rolls it over him, then shifts up and straddles him, guiding him as she sinks down onto him. "Bucky," she gasps, and rolls her hips as her hands go to his shoulders to steady herself.

He catches her at her waist with one hand until she steadies herself, and presses his fingers to her center, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves there as he rocks up into her, driving deep.

"Take all of me," he demands, his voice rough with need and desire.

His breathless order sends a sharp thrill ringing through her. She buries one hand in his hair, gripping, and digs the fingers of her other hand into his shoulder as she rocks against him. "Yes," comes out a ragged little moan, as he strokes her and her eyes close, her head rolling back. "Yes, baby. All of you. Have all of me."

She pulls his hair and he could swear he sees white flashes of light behind his eyes as she brings him right to the edge. Somehow he holds on, wanting her to come with him over it, and slides his hand from her waist up her back, pressing her down against him.

"More." It's plea and command at once, as he moves faster, far less controlled and lost in desperate want.

Her fingers grip hard into his hair and her nails bite into his shoulder. "Everything," she promises, lost in a wild haze of need and desire. "Everything, Bucky, have everything – "

She rocks deep and hard against him and stifles a moan into his shoulder, shaking hard in his arms just like he said he wanted as everything starts to come undone.

He drives into her as she rocks against him, then surges up to embrace her and hold her close as she tightens around him and desire surges like lightning within him. Bucky's back arches hard and his hips stutter, and as he loses himself in her he covers her with kisses everywhere he can reach.

She shudders as pleasure bursts through her, and it's a long moment until her arms finally loosen, trembling, from around him. Sharon rests her forehead on his shoulder and just breathes, trying to slow her racing heart and quell the tremors of aftershocks as they sizzle through her system.

He cuddles her close against him, holding her tight, murmuring soft and affectionate into her hair.

"Sharon, Sharon, my darling angel," he whispers. "You're so beautiful it overwhelms me."

"Oh, god, Bucky – "

She clings to him, eyes closed, shivering as he whispers into her hair, his breath warm and his words so sweet they almost hurt to hear. Everything she shouldn't say comes rushing to her lips, and she has to bite down on them to keep them inside. "Sweetheart, you wreck me."

He keeps one arm around her and shifts just enough to run his other hand over her back, petting and stroking.

"In a good way, I hope," he teases, not being entirely familiar with that idiom but pretty sure he knows what she means. "Because you're amazing."

"In a very good way."

She strokes her fingers through his hair, much more gently now than before, and lifts her head enough to give him a dopey-eyed smile. "I don't have the words to tell you how you make me feel. You're so wonderful."

He leans in for a sweet, gentle kiss, letting it linger. "So are you," he murmurs, when it breaks.

She kisses him back, soft. "Come lie down with me for a bit," she coaxes. "Before I have to leave for the night."

"Gladly." For a breathless instant he can't help but imagine what it would be like to go to sleep beside her, wake up with her, to share not just stolen moments but so much more.

Bucky fights it back and draws her into his arms, coaxing her to pillow her head on his shoulder.

She curls against his side and tangles her legs with his, then wraps her arms around him as she settles her head on his shoulder. "Don't let me fall asleep," she murmurs, though she closes her eyes as she says it.

"I'll stay awake and keep watch," he promises. "Rest a little, angel. I'll be here when you wake up."

"If you say so."

She muddles a kiss to his chest, then exhales a sigh, relaxing into boneless warmth next to him. "Just for a little while."

"Just a little while," he agrees, and drops a soft kiss on her hair.

It won't be long enough in the end, he knows - it can't be - but he'll be glad of every second he can get.

[WWII AU] the streets of london

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