June, 2014.

South of Aberdeen, Scotland, United Kingdom.

The jeep was mine most days. Bucky spent a majority of his time in the cabin, tinkering with various things that he believed needed fixing. I was able to drive to the nearest town where I had found a decent job with a shopkeeper, Gerald, willing to pay me under the table. He had only asked my name and why I needed the money. I told him to call me Barb and that I was saving to travel a bit farther. It gave me an excuse to use my natural accent and a reason to disappear suddenly.

We were located less than an hour south of Aberdeen, right past the invisible boundary separating city from country. The little town was located near the coastal cliffs, which gave Bucky and I a strategic escape if needed. Although I hadn't been swimming in quite some time, I felt comfortable in my ability to stay afloat. SHIELD training meant being dropped literally into a handful of varying taxing environments.

Our house was fifteen yards from the edges of the cliffs, and an expanse of salt marshes separated the acre the house sat on from the dead end of the nearest road. Anyone hoping to approach had to walk through a hundred yards of ill-tempered shrubs. It was yet another tactical advantage mixed in with a tactical sacrifice. The low and flat land carried the sound of car doors slamming shut to our hidey hole, but we weren't able to keep the car close by. Bucky was always waiting for me when I came through the front door, though. He was never surprised.

I pushed through the front door without bothering to knock in the agreed upon rhythmic code. Bucky didn't even look up from his makeshift workstation at the coffee table. Some little appliance was completely disassembled. It looked oddly familiar.

"Buck, is that the coffee maker?" I asked nervously. I desperately hoped it wasn't the coffee maker.

"Yeah," he answered simply. I carried my canvas bag full of staple foods into the kitchen and started unpacking them.

"Dare I ask why?"

There was a quiet crackle and pop before Bucky cursed rather loudly. I didn't turn around. He had shocked himself before.

"It didn't seem to be very hot this morning. I thought I'd take a look," he said. "I can put it back together."

"What do you want for dinner?" I asked, and there was more noise from the couch. Something metal accidently clanking against glass. Something else hit the wooden table, and I smirked. "Gerald sent me home with a frozen roast. I can give it a couple hours to thaw, or keep it frozen for later."

"Sounds good," Bucky muttered. Men hadn't changed in seventy years. He was no help, so I made the decision. We were having the roast for dinner.

-

I didn't consider myself homemaker material, but I was rather boastful about my ability to cook with limited supplies. By the time Bucky had deemed the coffee maker in working order, I had a roast with carrots and potatoes on the dining table. We both sat with our backs to a wall, tucked into a corner, and began eating without any fanfare. I wasn't going to ask his opinion, but I'll be damned if I didn't watch for a reaction.

After the first bite, he took a moment. It was a very brief pause in his usual routine. He squinted, like he was trying to figure out what I had used to season the roast.

"What is it?" I finally asked. I had my own mouthful of potatoes, but Buck couldn't care less.

"Tastes like the roast my mother used to make," he said. It came out as more of a question, as if he couldn't believe the words were his own. Then he smiled, slowly at first and then in a full blown grin. "She'd make one every Saturday because she said cooking on Sunday was too much trouble. We'd have leftovers for breakfast, lunch, and dinner though."

"I guess I did okay then," I decided. Bucky nodded and took another bite. For once, he ate slowly. Halfway through his first plate, he stopped and stared at the center of the table.

"I need to ask you something," he announced. Great.

"Shoot," I replied. I didn't stop eating. A full mouth gave me a reason not to answer whatever he was about to ask.

"It might be a weird question. I don't know. In the forties, it would have been weird. I assume it still is," he rambled. I chewed more slowly, trying to conserve my mouthful. This promised to be interesting. "God, I don't even know how to ask this. I've never had to ask anything like this."

"Buck, we haven't known each other all that long. I think you're a great guy, maybe some trust issues here and there, but a marriage proposal should wait," I joked. He didn't crack even the slightest smile. "Spit it out, Bucky."

Without looking at me, he finally spoke.

"We've been living together for well over a month now. Something is missing that should have shown up at least once," he said slowly. Oh God. I could have fun with this.

"A full moon?" I offered. I took another bit of the roast just to conceal my smile. "Because that could have something to do with changing longitude. I think."

"No, that's not—that's not what I meant," he told me. He caught me smirking and looked absolutely pitiful. "Please don't make me say it."

"Fine," I groaned in mock exasperation. I sat down my fork and looked Bucky in the eye. "You're right. Something is missing. I don't have a period because I had a hysterectomy when I was twenty."

He was silent for a few moments while he processed my brief explanation. Then he picked up his fork and started eating again. For a man who couldn't handle the word 'period', he recovered pretty quickly.

"Can I ask why?" he blurted out a few minutes later.

"My mother died of uterine cancer. I was about to be deployed. I wasn't planning on having kids. I had the time, a doc who would okay it, and the shitty government insurance to cover it," I answered. "The military is all about paying a little to spay one soldier instead of paying a lot when she gets knocked up."

Bucky nearly choked on whatever he had just taken a bite of. When he recovered, I asked what was wrong with him.

"You have a way with words, Gail, and it's pretty damn hilarious."

"Thank you," I mumbled around my food. We both sat smiling and eating until our plates were cleared. Bucky took seconds, and I beamed as I began clearing my dishes.

"I'll get them. Leave 'em," Bucky told me.

"Leave them?"

"You cooked. I'll clean," he explained. "Leave the dishes."

I slowly lowered my plate and half empty glass of water back to the table. No matter where I had lived, I had always been responsible for cleaning up after myself. And now here was a roommate willing to do it.

"Okay. Can you put away the leftovers while I go take a bath?" I asked.

"Yeah, no problem," he assured me. He didn't look up until he realized I was still standing by the table. "Go take a bath. I won't walk in on you this time."

*

Author's Note:

I disappeared, and I'm very sorry. I've had to get back in the swing of things again. It took longer than I hoped, but I'm back now!

And so, I'll be uploading several chapters in one fell swoop as a bit of penance for my absence. Let me know what you think and if anything goes funny with the upload. Sometimes, Wattpad likes to screw with me.