𝔪𝔲𝔩𝔱𝔦𝔣𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔦𝔪𝔞𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔰

8) Bucky Barnes

Summary: after decades of change, you get bucky back into his old uniform.

Warnings: none

A/N: this is super short, but i got the idea and thought it was cute. personally, i like the frank sinatra version of the song from 1960, but for timeline reasons, i went with the original.

     "I really don't know about this, doll," He grumbled. "It's been decades since I've even touched this thing. It- It doesn't look right anymore... Like it doesn't belong to me anymore..."
     "Bucky, that's not true," You soothed from the other side of the door. "I'm sure you look just as handsome as you did in 1942. No one has more of a right to wear that uniform than you."
     Hesitantly, he opened the door and stepped out. He glanced up at your face before looking back down to where he still held the uniform's hat in his hands.
     "Buck," You whispered, reaching up to cradle his face between your hands, "You look perfect. I know you've changed since then, but in many ways, you're still the same man you were back in Brooklyn. Before the war, before Siberia. You're still a good man, Sergeant Barnes."
     He flushed at the mention of his old title, turning his head slightly to kiss the inside of your wrist. "Thanks, doll. Y'know, you always know just what to say."
     You ran your thumb across his jaw before letting your hands fall from his face. "So, you're gonna do this with me?"
     "I already agreed to, honey. I'm not gonna spoil your fun. I don't think I'm gonna like Stark's party, though. They're always a bit over-the-top for my taste."
     "I know, but it'll be fun," You hum. Leaning up to press a kiss to his lips, you smiled. "Now, I have to get ready. It may take a while, Sarge. Be patient."
     His smile mirrored your own, "I'll wait as long as it takes, doll."

     Your thick curls felt heavy on your head and the dress was longer than you were accustomed to, but you didn't mind it so much. Not when Bucky was struck speechless, mouth gaping open slightly with his hat still in hand. The skirt of your dress flared out when you gave a playful twirl, "What do you think, Buck? Does it look authentic? I don't have anything that's actually from the forties, I was hoping this looked accurate enough."
     "Doll, you look-" He shook his head lightly, stepping forward and letting his empty hand find your waist, "You look fantastic. I could swear you stepped right out of 1942."
     "Good," You smile proudly. "I know you're not one for parties, the least I could do was get my costume right." His hand slipped from your waist to your lower back, pressing you closer to him until he could dip his head for a soft kiss. Your hand found the back of his neck, thumb moving forward to stroke softly at his clean-shaven jaw. Unwillingly, you pulled away. "Come on. I don't want to be late to the party, Sergeant."
    Walking into the party with Bucky, you looked around at the packed room. The view from the top floor of Stark Tower was beautiful, all twinkling lights and sparkling waters. A Halloween party thrown by Tony Stark wasn't traditional in any sense of the holiday. There were no gory monsters or strobe lights or tacky decorations. There were, however, dimmed lights and costumes of all descriptions. Albeit, those costumes were all fairly simple and classy. Being adults, no one was overly willing to jump out of their comfort zones.
     Steve turned as the two of you reached him and Sam, the smile gracing his lips growing wider when he saw how you and Bucky were dressed. He said your name fondly, delivering a friendly peck to your cheek. "You look great," He commended, "You would've fit right in back in the forties."
     "So Bucky says," You smile. The look in your eyes as you gazed up at the aforementioned man could only be described as completely adoring. Having devoted the last two years of your life to helping Bucky assimilate into modern culture, you were closer to him than everybody aside from Steve Rogers himself.
     "I see the uniform still fits, Buck," Steve nodded towards him. "It looks good. Been a long time since I've seen it."
     "Still remember the day you first saw it?" He asked in response.
     "Y'mean in that back alley?"
     "Where I saved you from gettin' your ass kicked," Bucky smirked. "You never did know how to back down from a fight."
     "He still doesn't," You snorted, taking a sip of the drink Sam handed you. Handing it back to him, you laced your fingers through Bucky's. "Mind sparing a dance for a lucky girl, Sergeant?"
     "Only if it's somethin' slow with you, doll. You know I don't dance much these days."
     "I'm sure you've still got some moves in you, old man. Let's go." You dragged him by the arm towards where some of the others were dancing, making him wait while you whispered something in the ear of the man Tony had hired to DJ.
     "What did you ask him?" Bucky questioned as you made your way back to his arms.
     "You'll see, Sergeant Barnes. Just a little song request."
     As the current song faded out and the new one began to play, Bucky looked down at you with a soft smile. One hand settled at your waist, the other taking your hand and leading you in a soft sway in time with the music. "You remembered," He murmured happily.
     "Of course I remembered, Buck. 'How Deep Is the Ocean' by Irving Berlin. 1932." You let your head fall against his chest and he pressed a kiss to your temple before beginning to murmur the words into your ear.

How can I tell you
What is in my heart?
How can I measure
Each and every part?

How can I tell you
How much I love you?
How can I measure
Just how much I do?

     With closed eyes, you listened to him softly sing the words. His thumb stroked back and forth against the fabric of your dress, his lips gently brushing along your jaw. The sound of his voice still rang through your head as your mind began to wander. What would it have been like in his world?

How much do I love you?
I'll tell you no lie
How deep is the ocean?
How high is the sky?

How many times a day
Do I think of you?
How many roses
Are sprinkled with dew?

     Bucky had told you about it before, what living was like back in those days. From the stories he'd told, it didn't sound half-bad. He would've asked your father's permission before taking you out on your first date. The two of you would've gone to new diners and seen movies together. He would've taken you dancing and, maybe, if he was feeling particularly bold, you would've spent a bit of time in the backseat of his parked car.

How far would I travel
To be where you are?
How far is the journey
From here to a star?

And if I ever lost you
How much would I cry?
How deep is the ocean?
How high is the sky?

     "I love you, Bucky," You whispered.
     "How much?" He whispered back with a playful smile.
     You shook your head with a quiet laugh, standing on your toes to press a light kiss to his lips. "I don't know, Sergeant. How deep is the ocean?"