Chapter Twelve: The End Of The Line?
Bucky’s eyes fluttered open, momentarily dazzled by
the sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows in Sarah’s suite. For a
split second, he panicked. This definitely wasn't his scant bachelor pad with
its questionable IKEA furniture and protein shake-stained blender.
Then he turned his head, and his heart did a
backflip worthy of an Olympic gymnast.
There she was. Sarah Carter—America's Sweetheart,
Hollywood royalty, and now, miraculously, the woman curled up next to him. Her
golden hair was artfully tousled, her lips slightly parted, and one long,
tanned leg peeked out from beneath silk sheets that probably had a thread count
higher than his credit score.
Bucky couldn't help the goofy grin that spread
across his face. If this was a dream, he'd fight an army of Freddy Kruegers to
stay asleep.
Careful not to wake his sleeping beauty, Bucky pressed
a feather-light kiss to Sarah’s forehead before slipping out of bed. He padded
barefoot through her suite, slipping out into the hallway. Careful, of course,
to avoid Steve who was right next door.
The main kitchen at the Avengers Compound was a
marvel to behold, evoking Bucky’s inner Gordon Ramsay… The perfect time to put those skills
he'd picked up during his "finding himself" phase in Wakanda to good
use.
Humming softly to himself (and pointedly ignoring
the voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Sam, warning him to tone
it down), Bucky set to work. Soon, the kitchen was alive with the sizzle of
bacon and the sweet smell of maple syrup.
As he plated up his culinary masterpiece—making sure
each strawberry was placed just so, because presentation was everything—Bucky
couldn't help but chuckle. If Shuri could see him now…
Balancing the laden tray, Bucky made his way back to
Sarah’s bedroom. He nudged the door open with his hip and paused in the
doorway.
Sarah was still fast asleep, her face peaceful in a
way he'd never seen before. No cameras, no pressure, just... Sarah. His heart
did that annoying flutter thing again.
Setting the tray down on the bedside table, Bucky leaned
in close. "Saraaaaaah," he whispered, his breath stirring a few
golden strands. "Wake up, sleeping beauty. Your breakfast chariot
awaits."
As Sarah began to stir, Bucky suddenly felt a wave
of nerves. What if she regretted last night? What if the breakfast was too
much? What if...
Sarah’s eyes opened, and a slow, sleepy smile spread
across her face.
"Morning, handsome," she murmured, her
voice husky with sleep. "Is that bacon I smell?"
Bucky grinned, relief washing over him. "That
depends," he teased. "Do you eat carbs on camera days?"
Sarah’s soft giggle filled the room. As she sat up,
the sheet falling away to reveal a silky camisole, Bucky knew he was in deep.
Paparazzi, publicists, and whatever other craziness came with dating a
Hollywood starlet… Bring. It. On.
Because that smile? That laugh? It was worth facing
down every tabloid in town.
"You didn't have to do all this.”
"I wanted to. Consider it a small token of my
appreciation for last night."
"Shouldn’t I be the one thanking you?"
she giggled again, swinging her legs out of bed, and throwing on her favourite
negligee.
"Ah, no need. I already gave myself a pat on
the back for my performance.”
Sarah’s hand instinctively reached for her phone,
muscle memory honed by years of 5 AM call times and middle-of-the-night PR
crises. But before she could grab it, Bucky swooped in.
"Uh-uh," he murmured, wrapping his arms
around her waist and burying his face in the curve of her neck. "No phones
allowed in the Sarah and Bucky bubble."
As he inhaled the intoxicating scent of her designer
peach shampoo (seriously, how did she smell this good first thing in the
morning?), Bucky smoothly pocketed her phone. Crisis averted. For now.
But even as he revelled in the warmth of Sarah’s
body against his, Bucky’s mind raced. The headlines were probably already
blazing across every gossip site from TMZ to Perez Hilton:
"Sarah Carter and Bucky Barnes: A Hollywood Meets Superhero Romance!""America's Sweetheart Finds Her Action Hero!"
"Sorry, Cap! Sarah’s Got a New Man!"
What had started as a grand romantic gesture worthy
of a John Hughes movie had morphed into a full-blown media circus. Bucky could
practically hear the sound of publicists having collective aneurysms across Los
Angeles.
And then there were the "teams." Because
apparently, you couldn't date a celebrity without the entire world choosing
sides like it was some sort of twisted romantic Hunger Games.
Team Bucky: For those who loved a good underdog
story… and abs you could grate cheese on. Team Steve: The die-hard fans who'd
been shipping Sarah and Captain America since their very first public
appearance together. Team Leo: Because let's face it, there was always a Team
Leo in Hollywood.
As Sarah hummed contentedly, spreading jam on a
piece of toast, Bucky tried to push away the nagging thoughts. He'd known
dating America's Sweetheart would be... different. Challenging, even. But he
was slowly starting to realise that he wasn't just dating Sarah… he was dating
Sarah, her 45 million Instagram followers, and the entire entertainment
industry.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Sarah’s voice
broke through his reverie. She was looking at him with those impossibly blue
eyes, a streak of jam on her upper lip that made her look adorably human.
Bucky leaned in, kissing away the jam before he
could stop himself. "Just thinking about how surreal this all is," he
admitted. "I mean, yesterday I was just a guy with a crush. Now we’re
probably trending on... What’s it called these days? Twitter? X? Whatever."
Sarah’s laugh was tinged with a hint of apology.
"Welcome to my world," she said, running a hand through her tousled
blonde waves. "It's... a lot, I know."
There was a moment of silence, heavy with unasked
questions. Then Sarah bit her lip, a gesture that made her look like nothing
more than the uncertain girl-next-door. "Any regrets?" she asked
softly.
Bucky paused, really considering the question. The
media frenzy, the loss of privacy, the inevitable scrutiny that would come with
dating one of the most famous women in the world...
Then he looked at Sarah… No, he really looked
at her. Not the polished starlet, not the descendent of Peggy Carter, but the
woman who snorted when she laughed too hard and had a secret obsession with Love
Is Blind. The woman who'd risked it all to chase him down on a busy street,
consequences be damned.
“Regrets? I’m the luckiest man ever to walk the face
of the earth. To even think there’s room for regrets is ludicrous,” he said
firmly, pulling her close.
Sarah took a deep breath, steeling herself for the
question that had been nagging at her since their sidewalk moment went viral.
"And have you, uh... Have you talked to Steve yet?"
Bucky’s fork paused halfway to his mouth, a piece of
syrup-drenched pancake dangling precariously. "No," he admitted,
setting the fork down with a soft clink. "I will eventually, of course. I
have a feeling he's avoiding me."
Sarah tossed her hair over her shoulder, a move Bucky
had seen her do a thousand times on red carpets. "He and my sister should
concern themselves with their wedding plans. Our love life is none of their
business."
The words were perfect. Exactly what any new
boyfriend would be thrilled to hear. But there was something in Sarah’s tone, a
hint of defiance accompanied by an eye roll that would put any teenager to
shame, that made Bucky’s spidey senses tingle.
"And things between you and Steve are...?"
he probed gently, trying to keep his voice casual.
"Ancient history. You can't miss the
ostentatious rock on my sister's finger."
Bucky nodded, settling back in his chair.
"You're not worried, are you?"
Bucky laughed, shaking his head. Of course he wasn't
worried. He was just... cautious. Yeah, that was it. Cautious.
"Good," Sarah chirped, clapping her hands
together like an excited kid on Christmas morning. "'Cause I have a
surprise for you. My publicist called last night... We've been asked to do an
interview and photoshoot here at the compound for a feature article!"
Her excitement was palpable, filling the room like
the scent of her perfume Bucky loved so much. This was Sarah’s world, her
natural habitat. Red carpets, flashing cameras, perfectly crafted soundbites… She
navigated it all with the grace of a prima ballerina.
Bucky, on the other hand, felt like he'd just been
told he had to defuse a bomb while juggling chainsaws. On live television. In
his underwear.
"An interview?" he repeated weakly, trying
to mask the panic rising in his chest. "And a photoshoot? Here?"
Sarah nodded enthusiastically, oblivious to Bucky’s
impending meltdown. "Isn't it exciting? It's the perfect way to introduce
you to the world. My handsome, mysterious new beau."
As Sarah rattled on about styling options, Bucky was
sure he felt a bead of sweat trickle down his back. He'd faced down Hydra terrorists
and navigated war zones, but the thought of stepping into Sarah’s spotlight
made his palms sweat.
What if he said the wrong thing? What if the camera
caught his bad side? Did he even have a good side? What if...
"Bucky…? Bucky…? James Barnes!" Sarah’s
voice cut through his spiral of panic. "You okay there, stud? You look a
little pale.”
Bucky forced a smile, hoping it didn't look as
strained as it felt. "Just... processing," he managed.
Sarah’s expression softened, and she reached across
the table to take his hand. "I know it's a big step," she said
gently. "But we're in this together, right? You and me against the
world."
As he looked into Sarah’s eyes, sparkling with affection
and excitement, Bucky felt his resolve strengthen. Yeah, the idea of being
thrust into the limelight terrified him. But Sarah? She was worth facing a
thousand flashing cameras.
"Together," he agreed, squeezing her hand.
"Just... promise me one thing?"
"Anything.”
"No spray tans, okay? Can’t have Sam calling me
Oompa Loompa until the day I die."
Sarah, her golden locks bouncing with each
determined step, had just whirled out of Tony’s office. She was off to meet her
glam squad—or as she liked to call them, her "fairy godmothers with
contouring brushes." The photoshoot was set, Tony’s blessing secured (it
was his property, after all), and Sarah was riding high on a wave of excitement
and a hint of nervous energy.
As the click-clack of Sarah’s designer heels faded, Nat
uncurled herself from the leather armchair and slid onto the arm of Tony’s
sofa. "Oof," she said, her perfectly arched eyebrow rising in sync
with her voice. "Wouldn't want to be you right now."
Tony, who’d always had a flair for the dramatic,
clutched his chest. "Is this what a heart attack feels like? Or is it just
the sensation of my life crumbling around me?" he quipped, though the
slight quiver in his voice betrayed his attempt at levity.
Nat rolled her eyes affectionately. Same old Tony,
she thought, always one crisis away from needing a fainting couch and some
smelling salts.
"Let me get this straight," Tony continued.
"Not only did I practically gift-wrap Sarah for Barnes—'Oh, sure, patch
things up with him, what could possibly go wrong?'—but now I have to break the
news to Rogers? I've become a saboteur!”
Nat, ever the voice of reason among the Avengers, leaned
over and gave Tony’s shoulder a squeeze. "Hate to burst your bubble of
self-pity, but if they're doing this big, fabulous shoot at the compound, Steve’s
going to find out faster than you can say 'love triangle.'" She paused,
considering. "Or is it a love square at this point? I've lost track."
Tony flopped onto the sofa, narrowly missing Nat’s
perch. "You're right, of course," he sighed, staring at the ceiling
as if it might offer solutions to their romantic woes. "I just hope this
doesn't blow up in all our faces like that disastrous speed dating party we
hosted that one Valentine's Day."
Nat shuddered at the memory. "Don't remind me. I
found rose petals in strange-ass places."
“Pun intended?”
“Ugh, you’re incorrigible!” she shoved him
playfully. “You better find a way to fix this. I can’t handle Rogers when he’s…
you know…”
"Maybe you could cause a diversion? Keep him
away for the day?"
"Oh, no. Nuh uh. You're not dragging me down
with you."
But Tony, ever the master manipulator, played his
cards skilfully. "I mean, you'll be sparing your buddy’s feelings...
Potentially preventing what happened back when…" he trailed off, fully
aware of the leverage of his argument. Well, that and Natasha’s loyalty to
Steve. It wasn’t exactly a state secret.
"You're right," she conceded, "I'm
in."
************************
With Sarah off on her glam mission, Bucky found
himself alone in her suite. The dread of the impending interview and photoshoot
crept in like a bad fake tan, impossible to ignore and potentially disastrous.
Bucky paced the bedroom, his loafers wearing a path
that would make any Tony weep. In his mind's eye, he saw it all: blinding
lights, cameras clicking, Sarah’s infamous 'beauty squad'…
His leg jackhammered as each imagined scenario
became more terrifying than the last. Would they expect him to smize? Dear Lord,
he didn't even know what that meant!
Finally, he grabbed his phone and dialled Sarah’s
number. "Listen, babydoll, about this shoot..."
"I swear, there's nothing to worry about.
You've done interviews and press conferences with Steve and Tony, right?"
"Yeah, but–"
"These are just a little more...
glamorous," Sarah purred, grossly downplaying the pageantry.
Just then, a shadow fell across the room. And there,
filling the doorway with his imposing presence, stood Steve.
Bucky froze, feeling every bit like a deer caught in
headlights.
"Hey, Buck," Steve greeted, his voice low
and smooth, but with an undercurrent that suggested this soldier might be in
serious trouble. His grin had all the warmth of the Boomerang Nebula.
As Bucky shifted awkwardly, suddenly aware he was in
Sarah’s bedroom, Steve continued, "I think it's high time we have a
chat."
Bucky cleared his throat, trying to summon courage
from places he didn't know existed. "Alright," he managed, rocking
back on his heels like a man preparing to face a firing squad. "What
about?"
In that moment, Bucky realised that facing a horde
of paparazzi might actually be preferable to whatever conversation was coming. This
was it. The throwdown he’d been dreading. The end of the line. Decades of
brotherhood cut short over a Carter.
On the one hand, Steve was engaged, pre-committed to
spending his life with Sharon. On the other, Bucky re-entered Steve’s life
after Sarah had just left, catching the tail-end of the heartache and drama.
He knew whatever they had went beyond friendship. Had he been
a believer in New Age mysticism, he may have used phrases like ‘karmic
connection’, ‘twin flames’, ‘soul tie’. Yet, here
he was, now in a relationship with the other half of said connection. Bucky had
no choice but to brace himself for Steve’s wrath…
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