Notes:

So we've made it to the end... for now at least. I have to thank everyone who has stuck it out through this story, and a special thank you to ktravierso from AO3, who has graciously offered to beta my stories, and I have more than happily accepted.

Enjoy!

Kitten

Chapter 26: The Story So Far

Bucky leaned back on the counter, a wet kitchen towel thrown haphazardly over his shoulder as he took in his friend's messy apartment. Clearly Steve hadn't been taking care of himself. While the dishes on the drying rack finished air drying, Bucky slowly worked his way around the counters pulling half empty cartons of Chinese food and take out pasta tubs, then dumping them in a trash bag. "Why don't you open the windows, Punk," he grumbled as he stuffed yet another half empty pizza box into the bag and tied it off, dumping it by the door. "And I'll call Darce; let her know we haven't killed each other yet."

"Will you tell me about her?" Steve's voice came from the bedroom, where he was sorting through his dirty clothes. "I mean, now, not one of your Hydra stories."

"Sure," Bucky dropped another full bag by the door and used his shirt to wipe his face. "She's great with the kids," he pulled out his phone and shot off a quick text letting his girl know that it would be a bit longer. "Nikolai is a bit difficult, to say the least," he tucked his phone back into his pocket and pulled another bag from the roll. "He spent the most time away from the nanny, and the most time with Hydra operatives, so that's understandable," Bucky worked his way into the living room, dumping a couple of ceramic mugs into the bag that both looked like they'd started to grow their own ecosystem. "She's patient, sitting for hours with him as he tries to work through the anger he's been dealing with, like Sam level patient, and he's starting to relax a little."

"Nikolai is almost six, right?" Steve threw a full bag of clothes over his shoulder and made his way into the hall bathroom that also housed the washer and dryer. "That's a hard age anyway."

"Yeah," Bucky slumped down on the couch and rubbed at the back of his neck, they'd been working for almost an hour, and it barely looked like they'd made a dent. He could hear Steve setting the washer, and water filling the drum. "Steve, how bout we call this a night? Come over, talk to Darcy, she'll feed you something that didn't come from a fast food restaurant. I mean, I'm pretty sure it came from a box, so don't hold your breath or anything, but at least it was made with love."

"You sure that's okay," the Captain stuck his head back down the hall, looking at the disaster that was his living room, and feeling defeated all over again, how had he let it get this bad?

"If she saw this shit hole, she'd drag you over anyway," Bucky pulled himself slowly off the couch and tied off the bag he was holding, the mugs at the bottom clinking noisily. "This way we can spare her the gory bits." He dropped the bag with the others and went back into the kitchen to lean on counter, no longer filled with dirty dishes.

"So she's a great mom," Steve washed his hands and dug through the pantry for a new roll of paper towels, only to discover he didn't have any. "Tell me about her."

"She hides from the scary parts of movies," the Soldier bumped his friend away from the sink with his hip, to wash his own hands; unabashedly whipping them dry on the back of Steve's shirt. "Seriously, the girl can kill a man with her pinky, I remember ops when we hadn't showered in days, covered in blood, and she'd still want me; but she puts her hands over her eyes when there's a clown on the screen, or an intense car chase. It's adorable."

Steve just smiled and patted his friend on the shoulder. He looked down at the ratty sweats he was in and the t-shirt that should really go into the trash, not out in public, but Bucky just shrugged and pulled him to the door, grabbing the keys that Steve had miraculously actually put on their hook, and locked the door behind them. "You can sleep on the couch tonight," Bucky said over his shoulder. "You aren't sleeping in there until I'm sure there isn't a colony of genetically enhanced spiders living in your bathroom."

"I'm sure the radioactive soap scum would have taken care of them by now," Steve chuckled, jogging a few steps to keep up with his friend. "That or the mold that lives in the soap dish would have culled them for food."

"Yeah, you are absolutely not going back there until we've cleaned it from top to bottom, cause damn man," Bucky put his hand on the scanner outside his apartment listening to the locks engage. The sound was so different from his cell in Russia, but it still twisted his gut just a little to hear the electronics work. He wasn't ready to tell Tony that just yet, wasn't ready to face how the little noise poked at his psyche, brittle as it was sometimes. "Kitten?" he called softly, seeing Sasha still sleeping on the couch, and the door to the kid's room still open.

"Yasha," Darcy's head poked around the corner a smile on her face. "And Steve," she ran her hands through her messy hair, pulling it back into a ponytail. "To what do I owe this pleasure, Cap?"

"Steve's apartment is unlivable," Bucky kissed her gently and scooted around her, his hand trailing over her hips as he made his way into the kitchen. "Make yourself at home, punk, just don't wake the niblet."

Steve stood awkwardly in the hallway and took a long look at the apartment. Bookshelves dominated the walls, stuffed full of books of all kinds, kid's toys were tucked away in bins and the TV was playing a cartoon quietly. It felt homey, good and lived in the way his just didn't; here the walls didn't feel like they were closing in. He took a tentative step towards the living room and saw the little girl on the couch, her hands raised over her head, and face slack with sleep. He had the urge to tuck the single curl that lay across her forehead back behind her ear, but resisted, rubbing his palms on the thighs of his sweats. He sank down in the leather chair, the twin of the one he'd been camped out on in his own apartment, and accepted a beer as Bucky passed it to him, popping the top effortlessly.

"Nikolai should be home soon," Bucky sunk down on the end of the couch his daughter wasn't sleeping on, opening his own beer. "We've got mac and cheese and turkey sandwiches," he shrugged. "The kids are pretty picky, and Sasha's going through a bit of an only yellow foods phase," he took a long pull at his beer. "Sam says it's fine, and normal; she's trying to exert control over her environment, and as long as she's still eating, we should just kinda go with it."

Steve nodded, drinking the beer that was so much more watery then what he'd remembered from before the ice, the taste stale and bitter on his tongue. "I love turkey sandwiches."

Bucky turned the blue velvet case over and over in his hands as Steve drove them back from the city. "Is it stupid that I'm crazy nervous?"

"No," Steve flicked the turn signal at the only stop light in the town near the Facility, taking them down the dirt road that lead home. "It's a big step."

"We have three kids," he rolled his eyes, clapping the clamshell case shut only to open it again. "We've been together for five years, six if you count that first year, though I really don't want to. She loves me."

"A lot, jerk," his friend looked at him from the corner of his eye as he slowed the car down before the final turn. "She's put up with a lot, and there still so much more."

"We've got years of trying to heal," Bucky agreed, shutting the jewelry box again. "It's worth it though." He tucked the box into the pocket of his leather jacket, keeping his metal fingers around it, holding it tight like he was scared that he might lose it if he didn't. "You don't mind hanging with Natalia and the kids tonight?"

"Well," Steve tried to suppress a grin, but couldn't. "She is still giving me that look."

"That, you fucked up and I'm contemplating whether or not I want you to keep breathing, look," Bucky unclipped his seatbelt and put his hand on the door handle. "Yeah, I know that look. She'll come around," he pushed the door open and pulled himself out of the low seat of the sports car. "Only took me fifty years, give or take, for her to stop looking at me like I failed her."

"Jerk, you shot her twice," Steve pocketed his keys and followed Bucky back into the building, throwing his arm around his friend's shoulder. "I think she was justified in giving you the Black Widow death stare."

"You insinuated that one of her best friends was a Pro Skirt, punk," he bumped his hip with his own. "I think prostitute trumps bullet here."

"I suck," color crept up the back of Steve's neck, turning the tips of his ears a bright red. "Have I said I was sorry in the last hour?"

"Yeah," Bucky hummed, placing his hand on the scanner outside his apartment. "But I could hear it again, like for the next twenty years."

"I'm sorry," Steve said sincerely as the door swung open.

Darcy dropped her bag on the kitchen counter, the eerie silence of the apartment making the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She palmed her keys and set them silently on the marble countertop, quickly checking the Glock 26 on her hip before moving further into the apartment. The living room was empty, but she could see a faint light down the hall coming from the master bedroom. She slid into the shadows and stalked down the hall towards the light. She crouched down at the door and pushed it slowly open, a hand still on her gun as the flickering light bathed the hallway in a warm glow. Sitting on the bed was Bucky, cross legged in a pair of soft jeans and a dark Henley.

"What's all this?" Darcy pulled herself up off the floor and flicked the safety on her gun in a smooth movement.

"Darcy Lewis," Bucky slid off the bed and down onto his knee, holding up the blue velvet jewelry case, the ring in the center glittering in the candle lit room. "Will you marry me?"

Darcy froze, looking at the man who she loved beyond reason, her room lit up with candles and the ring, sitting nestled in its box. Her hands slowly came up to her face, covering her mouth for a moment as she took a long, deep breath and nodded. "Of course I will, Yasha," she breathed out, dropping to her knees in front of him, closing her hands around his.

"Do you want me to?" he asked, letting her pull the box from his hands as she looked at the deco style ring, the oval diamond in the center surrounded by dark blue seed sapphires and silver filigree. She just nodded, not trusting her voice. He pulled the ring from its case and slid it over her finger, gently settling it on her finger, twisting and turning her hand in the dim light, letting the diamond capture the light. "We'll have to discuss wedding rings, cause I can't wear one," he sighed, letting the box drop to the floor as she pulled him into a deep kiss, his words flying from his head as she pushed him back up onto the bed and crawled up after him.

"I really don't care," she muttered as she worked the button on his jeans. "It's beautiful and I love you, and nothing else matters."

Notes:

Thank you everyone for taking the time to read Kitten. If you could take one more moment and leave a small token in the box below, my muse and I would be eternally grateful.