April, 2015.

Gdansk, Poland.

"I thought we were still going to Sokovia," Bucky said, shoving nearly half a sandwich into mouth in one go. He was leaning against the kitchen counter, trying to shovel in a meal before we left for the bar. I had started eating earlier than him, meaning I had plenty of time not to eat like a human garbage disposal.

"That's plan A, but the country's had a lot of turmoil the last few years. I want back-up plans," I explained. "We'll still go to Sokovia in a few weeks, but if we need to get out fast then I don't want to have to wait the time it'll take to formulate a new plan."

Bucky took a sip of water and nodded at me. "I can't argue with that logic," he gave in. "We can figure it out tomorrow."

With that, the both of us sat on the edge of the bed to tie our shoes and collect ourselves before our stint at the bar. We were fed and well-caffeinated but not entirely eager to spend six hours dealing with Polish tourists.

~

It wasn't that we had overstayed our welcome in Gdansk. Far from it actually. We were paid a decent amount of money under the table. We had a landlord who accepted cash and didn't ask questions. We had a pair of in-country passports with a few stamps a piece. Granted, the surnames in the passports made it seem like we were either siblings or married.

The problem came in with the warmer weather. The city became more crowded as the temperature rose and tourist season began. The bar was getting more crowded each night, and Bucky wore his hat a little lower when he worked as the bouncer.

More tourist customers meant more tips, which was nice. I folded a stack of Euros in my palm and slid them into Bucky's back pocket while he waited for me to finish cleaning up the bar. He was leaning across the counter, chugging a glass a water, when my hand in close proximity to his ass startled him. He coughed to clear his throat while I only chuckled.

"Hold onto that for me, will you?" I teased. He patted his pocket and realized what I had stashed there. "Couple hundred Euro in there."

"Wasn't exactly expecting it in my back pocket though," he told me. I shrugged and continued wiping done the parts of the counter that he wasn't sprawled across. "Good night?"

"Not bad," I confirmed. I emptied a couple glasses in the sink and added them to a tray destined for a dishwasher. "Yours?"

"Didn't have to break up any fights, so it was pretty good," he replied. He started picking up liquor bottles and checking how full they were. "Three girls gave me their telephone numbers. And one guy too."

I smiled to myself and took the empty vodka bottle out of his hand. There was a smear of ink on the back of his right hand, probably a phone number.

"First, not many people say telephone anymore. Second, I'm surprised it's taken this long for a guy to hit on you," I told him. I put the vodka bottle in a recycling bin under the counter and double checked that the cash drawer was locked.

"He didn't hit me, he just flirted a little," Bucky corrected. I started to walk towards the back door, and he followed.

"To be hit on doesn't mean get beat up. It means flirting. He gave you his number. He was trying to hit on you," I translated.

"This century is weird," he finally said after shaking his head. "Ready to go home?"

"I'm ready for our bed," I agreed. Neither of us missed that I referred to it as our bed, but neither of us ever talked about how many things were ours nowadays.

Bucky and I began walking back towards our apartment, each of us silent and watchful even though we had never had problems walking home. There were plenty of other bars still open at three in the morning and plenty more drunk targets for mugging. Nonetheless, I always passed my tips to Bucky.

"Where else could we go besides Sokovia?" he asked quietly.

"Poland is a big country. We could go south to Warsaw or Krakow," I mused. "We could go even farther south into the Czech Republic, Slovakia, or Hungary. Or we could go east into Belarus or Ukraine. We could try going back east to the bigger countries."

"No, I think staying in Eastern Europe is our best bet," Bucky countered. "I know that half of the continent. I vaguely remember a lot of missions in Eastern Europe."

I nodded along. I couldn't argue that he had plenty of experience working in Eastern Europe. With the general direction of our back-up plan agreed upon, we walked the rest of the way quietly. We walked up the back stairs and into the second floor of the building. I unlocked our door, and Bucky turned the deadbolt again once we were inside.

We split apart and went through our nightly routines. I took a quick shower while Bucky made a late dinner. By the time I was dressed in bedclothes, which consisted of one of his t-shirts, he had made enough scrambled eggs and toast for the both of us. So, I sat down on the bed and started toweling off my hair and waited for Bucky to bring me a plate.

"You know, one of these days you won't be a wanted criminal anymore," I told him. "That's something else worth planning for."

"I doubt that day will come anytime soon," he countered.

"You know Steve is looking for you," I reminded him. "He was in London, on his own, before we left Scotland."

"I know," he whispered. I worried that I was keeping him from eating, but then he took a monstrous bit of scrambled eggs and I brushed the worries away. "I almost wish he wouldn't."

"You've told me no less than 38 times that Steve was family to you. Your best friend, your brother. If he keeps looking, you should reach out," I advised. "Or let me."

Bucky began to shake his head fiercely, tossing his hair out from where it had been tucked behind his ears. It had been months since he last asked for a significant haircut. He had caught me trimming the split ends out of my hair and asked for the same, but now he seemed to be growing it out.

"No, don't. If you went and told him you knew where I was but that I didn't want to see him, that punk would follow you to the ends of the Earth in hopes you'd lead him to me," Bucky pointed out. He took a bit of toast but continued to talk around the food. "It's been a while since Scotland, and we haven't heard of him running any more ops."

"There have been others though. Sharon Carter was seen in Copenhagen. Sam Wilson was in Munich," I listed off.

"We've never been to Munich," Bucky said.

"But there are task forces all over Germany. Munich is a two hour flight from here. Less on one of Stark's fancy jets," I told him. "I'm glad we know where we're going next, and I'm more than happy to keep jaunting around the world for the next decade but we'll have to stop at some point."

I stole a piece of toast from Bucky's plate and ate it while he thought about what I had said. He finished his dinner, and I offered him my plate. He gladly accepted and polished it off.

"Buck, I want your name cleared. I want you and Steve to rebuild your bond. Things have changed, but I know he still cares about you and you still care about him," I said after getting tired of waiting for him to speak. "He won't stop looking for you, and I personally think that's a good thing."

"I know you're right," Bucky said. He lazily turned to face me with a halfhearted smile. "You're always right. Not worth arguing with you."

I gently punched him in the arm but then placed my hand down on his shoulder and rubbed his arm.

"I'm glad you're finally realizing how pointless it is to argue with me," I teased. He laughed at me and patted my leg. "Now put the dishes in the sink and let's go to bed."

Bucky picked up my plate and his and rinsed them off in the sink. He took a brief detour to the bathroom to brush his teeth and turn out the lights before silently joining me in bed. No matter how often I had the chance to observe, I was always amazed at how he could move without a sound. The bed springs squeaked under the addition of his weight but soon he was settled under the sleeping bag comforters and wiggling until he was comfortable. 

"Good night, Gail," he said quietly. "You want to sleep in tomorrow."

"You mean later today?" I asked. I was sure that if I could see him, he would have been rolling his eyes at me. 

"You know, just for that I'm waking you up at the crack of dawn," he threatened, but there was no bite behind his words. 

"As long as I wake up to the smell of coffee, you can wake me up whenever you want."