Chapter Text
We don’t own a duvet.
It’s a soft, almost velvety texture that is overstimulating against your bare skin. With a hand to your chest, you think, I slept in the nude. At least that habit is familiar. You shift up into a seated position and adjust your eyes to the glow of early morning streaming through an open window at your right. It’s morning at home too. But our window is to the left.
You were instructed that arrival into this new world would be like waking from a dream but you had no idea they meant literally.
You do a quick perimeter scan but it’s clear you are alone in the expansive bedroom. You swing your legs over the bed only to realize, just like the rest of the room, it too is massive. Your king at home, while more than enough for the two of you, is nothing in comparison to this. The sheets are ruffled at the other end, meaning you didn’t sleep alone. While this place should feel like home, it is not your home.
You lift your wrist to check that the device is still in working order. All three dials are in the green, the timer set to 7:58:03. You sigh but your relief quickly turns to trepidation. That means it worked. That means you are in fact in another universe, parallel to your own. Your eye catches a glint of light; a kaleidoscope of color cascading from its origin at your hand. A wedding ring. So I am still married in this universe. But to whom? The band is different from your own. It is more ornate, more expensive, with three large diamonds held at the center.
A robe hangs on the corner of the bedpost. You eagerly cover yourself with it and begin to explore the rest of room. There are no pictures to provide any clues. The walls are a stark white, decorated only by bellowing curtains that shift with the breeze. Delicate lavender flowers are presented on a large dresser, fitted with a mirror you are too short to utilize. You open the sliding doors to the walk in closet with a flourish. Inside, its contents are clearly divided in half. Men’s clothes on the right. Women’s clothes on the left. You search for your S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform but find it distinctively absent from your belongings.
“You have eight hours,” Fury said as he hooked the device around your wrist. It snapped into place. “No more, no less. You will be brought back here when your timer reaches zero. Do you understand?”
You nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Steve was at your right, lingering in the doorway. “What makes you so sure she won’t be discovered?” He asked. “That they won’t be able to tell the difference. She could get hurt...”
“She knows the risks,” Fury snapped, turning his attention away from the solider and back to you. “Or else she wouldn’t have volunteered.”
“I’ll be okay, Steve,” you said calmly, though your hands were shaking.
“You’ll need to adapt quickly to the world around you,” Fury went on. “For all intents and purposes, you will belong there. You will need to keep up the act so no one suspects anything may be different. Especially Hydra. Their agent could be hiding in plain sight.”
Again, you nodded, but you held your gaze steady to Steve’s. There was fear there. He was worried. But you had to make this journey alone.
S.H.I.E.L.D. found evidence of a spy and with them, a time slip. They were not of this world but from another, parallel to your own. They were world-jumping Bruce called it. Bouncing between universes to collect intel. Each world carried endless possibilities for new paths, new destinies. The information could be invaluable. What chain of events in one world could lead to world domination for Hydra in their own. A blueprint for success. Bruce and Tony were able to fashion a device to enter their world, using the unique patterns left behind in that time slip. Someone needed to get in, find their parallel technology, and destroy it to sever the ties.
The Hydra in this universe, and likely theirs, only saw you as a mere girl who married the First Avenger. You aren’t a threat to them. They’d anticipate Steve making this journey, not you. But you had the same knowledge of Hydra as your husband. You could get in and get out without Hydra ever suspecting a thing.
Outside the bedroom, you can hear the faint sound of someone singing. The song you don’t recognize but the voice is unmistakable. Steve. A smile spreads wide across your face as you leave the bedroom and step out into a hallway. I’m married to Steve. Of course we’d find each other, even in this universe. Perhaps we always find each other. You follow his voice, finally making out the song. Sweet Caroline. An unusual song for your Brooklyn sweetheart. Immediately the smell of bacon hits you, intermingled with something sweet. Pancakes. You round the corner and step into a wide kitchen where Steve is stationed at the stove. He is bare chested beside the kitchen, a towel draped over his shoulder. The kitchen island obscures your view of his lower half but you assume he is wearing something to protect the goods from the spatter of sizzling bacon grease.
He must hear the patter of your feet on the kitchen floor. He stops singing abruptly. He turns around, giving you his award winning smile.
“Morning, sweetheart,” he greets cheerfully. “I hope my horrible singing didn’t wake you.”
“Not at all.” You return his smile, sitting at a bar stool situated on the other side of the island. “What’s for breakfast?”
He raises an eyebrow at you. “The same as every Sunday,” he laughs and turns back to his work. “But someone requested chocolate chips today.”
You pull down the sleeve of the robe to hide the device. You would have to find a way to explain it away later. For now, you needed the basics. “What can I say? I have a sweet tooth.”
“You too?” He laughs and gives the pan a flick, flipping the contents inside. “Damn, it wasn’t ready.”
“Language,” you tease as you lean forward against your elbows.
“You’re one to talk! You have the worse mouth of all of us.”
Us? Perhaps you were actually part of S.H.I.E.L.D. here, despite what the lack of uniform had you believe. Or maybe you were even an Avenger in this universe. For a split second, you wonder if this is a shared compound. That perhaps you and Steve aren’t married, only living in common grounds, sharing breakfast like coworkers and friends. But then you see the silver band on his finger and your doubts begin to ease away.
You watch Steve as he flips three more pancakes, which turn out better than the first. He grins down at them, pleased with his work. Behind you, a door opens. You turn to see a back door leading toward an endless yard. In front of the door, is Bucky. He isn’t an unusual sight. Back home, Bucky often stopped by without warning. He was a normal part of your life, and now a comforting sight in this strange new world. You smile at him automatically.
Bucky comes strutting toward you both, glistening with sweat, holding a wet towel to his forehead. Your gaze trails down from his fingers to the base of his arm and shoulder. One part of set of perfectly normal, flesh arms. No metal. In this universe, he is whole again.
“It smells fucking amazing in here,” he says as means of greeting. He tousles his hair with the towel and leans down to kiss your cheek sweetly. “Good morning, gorgeous,” he whispers in your ear. His lips linger, leaving a shiver down your neck. Your eyes go impossibly wide as you stare after him. Bucky was affectionate back home but there were boundaries. A line he could not cross.
He bounces into the kitchen to Steve’s side and peers around his shoulder. When Steve isn’t looking, he snatches a piece of bacon from the serving tray.
“You punk!” Steve smacks his arm, laughing. “Can’t you wait five minutes?”
“Never could.”
Bucky wraps his arm around Steve’s shoulders and whispers, just loud enough for you to hear. “You were the impatient one last night if I recall.”
“I’m not to blame for that.” Steve’s cheeks go red but not from embarrassment but something more akin to desire. Bucky drops his arm with a laugh and as he does you catch another wedding band.
“Who the hell…” you mutter as you fold your hands in your lap awkwardly, hiding the ring. Who am I married to?
“What’s up, doll?” Bucky asks turning to look at you.
“I just… I should really get dressed.” You slide off the chair and try to make your way back to the bedroom. This is a shared home. It has to be. But whose clothes are those in the closet? Who do I share a bed with? You look at the device. Less than eight hours now. Time is ticking away. You have to get out of here.
“Dressed? Now why would you do a silly thing like that?” Bucky asks as he slowly struts back to you, blocking your way. “Clothing is clearly prohibited in this house.”
“At least on Sundays,” Steve says lightly.
Bucky stands in front of you. His hands go to your waist, to the silk strand holding your robe in place. He unfastens the bow and lets the ribbon slide to the floor. You swallow hard. You cannot act out of character for this version of yourself, this parallel personality. If you make one false step, one wrong move, the gig is up. The mission a failure. So you wait and watch him move his hands underneath the silk robe against your shoulders.
You jerk away. An impulse. You are married. No one should be touching you this way but your husband. And in your own universe, that is and would only be Steve.
“What’s wrong?” Bucky asks, his face pale with concern. “Are you feeling alright? Need to sit down?”
“Yea.. I feel a little dizzy is all,” you lie as you reach back down to retrieve the tie, securing it back in place. Your hands are shaking and you can’t quite meet his gaze.
“Okay, come here.” His hand goes below your elbow as he leads you to the living room. A plush couch awaits you where a small cat lies sleeping amongst the pillows. He peeks his head up at you as soon as you sit down.
“Just sit here, cuddle Loki and we will bring breakfast.”
“Loki?” You sputter. You look at the black cat whose green eyes stare back at you, blinking slowly.
Bucky regards you strangely. “Ya… you know, our cat,” he laughs. “Did we drink too much last night? You usually can handle a few margaritas.”
“Maybe it was one too many,” you manage to say with a forced laugh. The cat, Loki, crawls into your lap and immediately begins to purr.
“Let me get you coffee then,” he replies as he moves back toward the kitchen.
You curl your legs up underneath you and tighten the robe at your chest. The cat adjusts to your movements and settles back down, encouraging you to stroke his chin. You oblige. It’s strange having a pet. There wasn’t time for one at home. You and Steve were hardly home long enough to take care of one. The cat looks up at you and you laugh. Loki. Thor will get a kick out of this.
“Okay, new rule. Sober Sundays,” Steve says as he comes into the living room with a plate in each hand, one stacked high with pancakes, the other with bacon. He places them on the coffee table before sitting beside you. His hand reaches up to massage the back of your neck. Your Steve would do the same. You lean back into his touch. The familiarity of it. The comfort of the heat of his hand. His finger splay out against the base of your skull. “Do you need Tylenol?”
You shake your head. “I’m okay. Maybe I am just hungry.”
Bucky appears, sitting on your other side. He places a coffee mug in front of you but you can barely reach for it. You immediately stiffen. You are sandwiched between them. The two prospects for your husband in this universe.
“You know what I haven’t seen in a while,” you blurt out. “Wedding pictures.”
It is vague enough to not cause suspicion but to allow their reply, and any visual evidence, to fill in your knowledge gaps.
“I’ll do you one better,” Steve says with a smile. “I think we put the Blu-ray over here.”
He gets up to plop the disk into the Blu-ray player. While he does, Bucky slides close, his lips coming back to your ear. His caress sends a shiver down your spin, a heat boiling beneath your skin. “I'm never going to be okay with just vanilla after last night.”
You can feel sweat beading across your brow. Maybe he means cake. Or ice cream. You reach for the coffee and down a large gulp.
The video brightens the once dead television screen as the recording begins to play. It’s beautifully edited, soft music playing as a group of men get ready. It’s hard to tell who the groom is at first. The camera moves between them equally, panning sweeps. Tony appears, securing his corsage. Peter is in the back, looking a bit awkward, face in his phone. No Thor to be found. A strange absence. And then the picture settles on Bucky and Steve. They are standing together in front of a bright window. Steve is helping tie Bucky’s tie for him. Bucky looks nervous. The groom then? You swallow hard and wring your hands together nervously.
“Were you just as nervous?” Bucky asks with a shy smile.
And there’s your answer, plain as day. You are the bride. You appear on screen, as someone helps with your gown. My wedding video. Mine and Bucky’s. Your bridesmaids are around you, smiling, laughing. Natasha and Wanda are the only familiar faces amongst a sea of strangers, women you do not know in your own universe. You subconsciously shift away from Bucky. I don’t know if I can do this. I need to get out of this house. Away from him.
Suddenly, Steve’s phone rings beside you. He mutters a curse under his breath, pauses the video and answers the call.
“They need me to come in,” he announces after hanging up.
Steve is already standing and walking toward the bedroom. “Right now?” Bucky calls after him.
“Sounded pretty urgent.”
You try to stand to follow him. This could be your means of getting to S.H.I.E.L.D. Of finding the device. But Bucky gently urges you back down. “There is no talking him out of going. You know that,” he whispers.
When Steve finally comes back out, he is fully dressed, baseball hat cap and sunglasses obscuring his face.
“I’ll try to make this quick and be back as soon as I can.” As he passes you on the couch, he kisses the top of your head. “You two behave yourselves while I’m gone.”
“No promises,” Bucky yells after him. The front door shuts and locks. He is gone.
Suddenly, alone with Bucky, you feel impossibly awkward, and severely underdressed. Steve’s parting kiss could have meant affection beyond friends. Or nothing at all. But before you can think more on it, your stomach growls unceremoniously.
“Hungry?” Bucky asks in a teasing tone.
You reach for a crispy morsel of bacon before Bucky catches your hand.
“I for one am ravenous.”
His lips find yours, his tongue searching, needing to to be let in. You are overwhelmed all at once by the salty taste of his mouth, of the heat of his desire hot upon his tongue now sliding into your open mouth.
I shouldn’t be doing this, you tell yourself over and over again. Your hand is on his chest pushing. But if you are married in this universe, he would not expect you to resist. You would be willing, wanting him. So you let your mind wander. You let yourself think of things you’ve never allowed being married to Steve. All those fleeting glances to Bucky, gaze settling lower than it should. Nights alone when you thought briefly of what his caress might feel like, the cool of his metallic grasp.
But you shake your head, pushing him away. "Bucky, I'm really not feeling up for this."
"You sure?"
You nod, looking away.
"I could take care of you, doll. You don't have to do anything, okay?" He moves in to kiss you once more, his hand reaches up to grip onto your thigh, beneath the frail concealment of the robe.
Pleasure is quick to take hold and you don’t want to stop. You want more of his caress. Your whole body is on fire with need. You reach up to thread your hands through his long hair. As you do, you catch sight of your ring once more and in alarm, pull away.
“Bucky, I...”
His heavy-lidded eyes regard you with a dark gaze. “I owe you from last night,” he whispers before scooping you up into his arms and whisking you away to the bedroom. No time to protest. No time at all. You glance at the device. 06:45:35. Already an hour lost and you are no where closer to figure out who you are in this world, let alone who the Hydra agent is.