Bucky is glad for those easy Saturdays drenched in sunlight and bursting with music.  Because when the darkness comes, as it inevitably does, leaving him feeling so heavy and worn, at least he has those days to lean on, and a soft, loving woman who’s arms are always open for him.  

She doesn't question it.  She’s grown accustomed to his brooding and often mercurial moods.   And when she feels he’s slipped just a tad bit too far, she's there with a laugh and cheesy grin.  Warm hands on his shoulders.  A kiss.  One on each cheek.  A third on his lips that lingers and tastes sweeter than sugar.  A song to soothe and settle.  

P.S. I love you...

As if he could ever forget.  She’s his light.  His sunshine amidst the murky shadows of memory and regret.  His hope and his promise. His will to keep moving.

She gives him music and laughter.  The warm press of her skin grounds him, keeps the pieces from falling apart.  

Sleep doesn't always come easy, but her soft breath on his neck, the weight of her arm curled over him, provides assurance enough.  

P.S. I love you…

“Is this… too much?” he asks one rough night when the dreams won't let him settle.  When they keep jerking him awake, his fingers digging into the tender flesh of her hips.

She shifts in his hold, leaning away to stare at him, and the look on her face says she thinks he’s actually finally lost it.   A flicker of moonlight waits in her eyes.

“Where do you think I’m going, Barnes?”

His gaze drops to her lips, uncertainty tinged with fear twining through his stomach like thick, dried out vines.  He doesn’t reply.  Can't give voice to the thought tumbling about inside his head. So, he simply shrugs.

“This can’t be easy for you,” he says instead.

She curls her tongue at the corner of her mouth, huffing air out through her nose.  

“You want me gone?”

His response is immediate and heartfelt. “No!”

One thin hand smooths up his flesh arm, sliding over his shoulder.  She twists her fingers in his hair, scratching lightly at the base of his skull the way he likes, the way that always soothes him.

“Please don't ask me that question ever again, Bucky,” she says,  firm and certain.  “I’m here.  I’ll be here.  That's all there is to it.”

P.S. I love you…

He asks her to marry him one cool fall evening, when they're relaxing after dinner on the deck.  

He realizes too late that he doesn’t even have a ring and that, maybe, she would have appreciated a much more grand gesture involving family and friends.

She doesn’t respond immediately. In fact,  she sits eerily still, her eyes on the shed.  He can hear the rhythm of her heart and its rapid pounding seems to echo in his ears.

Finally, she turns to him, eyes soft in the fading light and misty with tears.

"You mean that, Barnes?”

The hope in her voice tells him he isn't wrong, that he hasn't performed some irrevocable misstep, and he laughs lightly.  Relieved.  

“Yeah,” he sighs, nodding.  

He pushes out of his chair and drops to both knees in front of her.  Slides his rough palms up the tops of her bare thighs and curls his fingers over her hips.  

“I mean, that is, if you’ll have me.”

Her mouth falls open.  “If I'll have you? If I’ll have you?!?!” She lunges at him, linking her arms around his neck and hugging him close.  “Never wanted anything more in my life.”

He can't name every emotion churning through him as he hugs her to him, placing grateful kisses over the bare skin of her neck and shoulders.  But the one that’s certain, the one that’s the brightest, the fullest,  is joy.  

P.S. I love you…

The wedding, like the couple, is unconventional.  

The Avengers assemble.  

Steve and Sam walk her down the aisle, both grinning with pride.  Clint, whose list of accomplishments somehow include ‘Ordained Minister’ pronounces them husband and wife. She giggles and practically launches herself into his arms.  

He kisses her so long and deep on the steps of the little church he’s certain the building rocks on its foundation with all the hoots and hollers echoing around it.

She looks beautifully flustered when he finally releases her.  

“Gonna get us smited before we can even consummate the marriage, Barnes!” she giggles.  

“Worth it,” he replies, laughing when he pinches her ass and has to catch her before she topples down the steps.

P.S. I love you…

The reception is full of laughter and, of course, music.  Her beloved pop and bluegrass and soul.  And she shines so bright, so alive and real that he can hardly believe he’s here, that she’s agreed to spend the rest of her life holding together his broken pieces.  

A lifetime of Saturdays stretches out ahead of him.  Housework and routines.  Building and mending.  Mowing the lawn and easy nights watching the stars from the deck.  And maybe, just maybe, watching her stomach grow round and full with his children.

Nothing else for me to say

And, so, I’ll close

She sings to him while they dance, her head over his heart and her voice filling up the dark places in him, smooth and sweet and loving.

Oh, by the way

Everybody’s thinking of you

He holds her tight.  Feels her shiver and sigh when his metal fingers press her closer still.

P.S. I love you

Love you

Love you....