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Vacations are a rarity.
A Break. Some free time. Moments to relax and to dwell on happy thoughts. Peace. All in all, things Bucky Barnes thinks he just doesn’t deserve. He’s committed so many atrocities that he just doesn’t know how on earth he’s being granted a life like he is living now. What he could’ve possibly done to redeem himself and to make his existence feel almost like a bit of heaven on earth.
Among those things he shouldn’t be allowed to have, is her.
She’s the sun. Pure white, blinding light in which presence most people would shield their eyes in order not to lose their sight. She’s soft, with the smooth curves of a goddess and velvety skin that always seems to be warm to his touch. Her silky hair, brightly twinkling eyes and those lips - god, those lips. Touching her feels like a sin but he just can’t help himself.
How could he help himself when she looks like the epitome of beauty, has a heart made out of gold and has for some reason decided she loves him. Him of all people. James Buchanan Barnes. A man from the forties who always seems to feel cold no matter how many blankets he wraps around himself. A brainwashed assassin who’s killed more people than he can count, let alone remember. Someone who has to spend nights like New Years and the Fourth of July with headphones in his ears and something to distract him just so he doesn’t flinch every time a firework explodes in the distance. He puts Y/N through a lot with all of the baggage, with his problems, but still, she stays and loves him as though he deserves it.
He knows he doesn’t, but he wants to. Bucky knows he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to deserve at least a little bit of her.
The beach they’d decided to spend the day at is deserted except for them, the sky cloudy and grey and it’s already too cold to go swimming. So instead of enjoying the water, Y/N has convinced him to walk along the beach in search for seashells and other things that have been washed ashore. Her hand is in his as they walk, squeezing it reassuringly from now and then because Bucky’s jittery and nervous due to the slow tempo of their steps. It’s unusual and unnerving for him to just… walk, without a purpose other than walking. But she constantly tries to distract him by rubbing her thumb in circles over the back of his hand, occasionally putting the one that isn’t safely cupped in his on his bicep and excitedly pointing out whatever she spots in the sand. She’s insufferably considerate and attentive and Bucky loves it. It’s nice. He loves it almost as much as he loves her.
The seashells in the pocket of her jacket click against one another with each step she takes, a cool breeze ruffles her hair and blows strands of it in her face. She’s obviously at peace. He knows it by the expression on her face, the content smile that’s curling her lips upward and the way her eyes are closed so she can enjoy her surroundings more thorough. Y/N’s pressed tightly against his side with one arm hugging his waist. He always feels cold but with her curled into him like that, he’s sure he wouldn’t even need the jacket he’s wearing.
They walk slowly, side by side, letting the sounds of the sloshing water wash over them. Bucky takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. The air smells salty and like the little pieces of seagrass speckled all over the damp sand. Seagulls squeak loudly in the air above them, flitting through the air in search of prey. He drops his head, closing his eyes briefly to savor how lucky he is to be here.
Y/N suddenly squeezes his waist tightly, prompting him to stop walking. His gaze moves to her, confusion evident as she lets go of him without so much as a sound and walk closer to where the colder water glides up and down the sand. He takes a few steps after her and is about to ask what exactly she’s doing when she gasps. It doesn’t sound like it’s out of shock or anything negative, so Bucky relaxes, but his curiosity is still sparked when all of a sudden she starts to giggle excitedly.
“Doll…”
“Bucky, look!” She leans down to pick something up and cleans the sand off of it. Bucky walks closer to where she stands.
“What is it, sweetheart?” He doesn’t say it very loudly, feeling as though the harsh rasp of his voice would ruin the calm atmosphere, but she hears him anyway.
“Look,” she repeats. He’s finally close enough to put one arm around her middle to pull her back to his chest. Laying in the palm of her hand are three pieces of colourful frosted glass, moulded in shape over time by the force of the water. Two of them are a beautiful shade of blue, while the looks much darker, older. “Aren’t these pretty?”
Not as pretty as you, he wants to say. “They are,” he says instead, leaning his head lightly against hers as he looks down at her hand. She shifts her palm and makes the rounded shards move, showing off the depths the shades truly possess. Bucky closes his eyes again and readjusts the position of his head so he can press his lips against her temple.
“I think I’m gonna take these home. You know why?” He feels her lean into him as he hums, hands running up and down her sides gently. “They remind me of your eyes,” she explains, softly. Something in Bucky’s chest twists at that admission.
“And you know what else?” Y/N closes her hand tightly around the sea glass, pressing her fist against his chest as she whispers the words and nudges her nose against his. “I love your eyes.”
Her lips are on his then. The kiss nothing short of sweet and filled with love and Bucky wants to stay like this with her for the rest of eternity.
“I love you,” she murmurs against his mouth, her other hand coming up to rest on his neck. He deepens the kiss in response because he doesn’t have to tell her that he loves her too.
She knows.