NINETEEN—THE NEW ALIBI
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I FELT ALL the oxygen leave my lungs in one second. I was standing there frozen, immobile for what seemed like hours, though it couldn't have been more than a mere moment.

She knows she knows she knows she knows--

"Who are you?" My mother asked him, the words obviously meant for Bucky but her eyes found mine. Filled with accusations that I couldn't decipher, I swallowed roughly and answered for him.

"This is...Michael," I stammered, trying desperately to be convincing. "He's...my boyfriend."

Bucky's eyes widened as if to say, that's all you could come up with? I grimaced back at him in a silent response.

"What's going on, ladies?" I heard my dad call from the living room, his steps getting nearer as he, too, joined this mess of a situation. "What are you—oh..." he trailed off as his eyes landed on Bucky, who was now pulling a shirt over his strong torso.

"Her boyfriend, Michael," Mom spoke, pointing gently at him. "Why didn't you tell us, Elda?" She crossed her arms and stared me down as I tried to come to grips with my impulsive reply.

I shrugged. "I don't know, I was just..."

"She wasn't sure you would approve of me," Bucky cut in slowly, brushing his shirt down over his abdomen, a surprisingly smooth movement, considering his one-armed status. "It's not every day your daughter meets someone like me," he added, holding out a hand in greeting.

My mother awkwardly shook his outstretched hand, stumbling over her words as she said, "we have no issue with Elda seeing someone with such a...disability." Her eyes flicked to his stumped shoulder. I looked over to my father and saw that his eyes were unblinking, unable to look away from the lack of a limb. The whole situation made me want to run myself over with a bus.

Bucky chuckled. "No, I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about the fact that I'm—" I shot him a look that told him to be very careful of his next sentence. His closed his mouth and grinned. "Well, let's just say that I'm a very unique individual."

I had to smirk at his remark. "That's quite the understatement, Buck," I mumbled, blinking up at him and blushing when I noticed that his expression mirrored mine.

My father shook Bucky's hand next, nodding in the typical masculine manner that usually befell fathers who were meeting their daughter's significant other for the first time. "Nice to meet you, Michael..."

"Carter," he answered the open question. "Michael Carter." The quick response startled me, causing my eyes to meet his again, the question clear. He shook his head slightly, just enough for me to see and understand. Later.

My dad smiled a tight-lipped smile. "It's nice to meet you, Michael Carter." He stepped back and waved a finger between the two of us, adding, "So how long has this been going on?"

"Would it be a completely awful idea for us to have this conversation somewhere other than the guest room? Perhaps in the living room?" I said, gesturing back down the hall.

"Yes, of course, sorry for the interrogation," Dad said, beckoning us to follow him. With my mother right behind him, I waited for Bucky and fell into step beside his taller figure. Close enough to pass as a couple, but far enough away that it wouldn't push his boundaries.

"Why were you so apprehensive about them staying here?" he whispered in my ear, and it was hard to focus on the question when his stubble scraped against my ear clumsily due to the movement. "They're so kind."

I scoffed quietly and raised an eyebrow up at him. "Are you really that dense? They're only being nice to you because they've got someone new to impress. They're obsessed with keeping the facade of a perfect, unbroken family up." I looked forward and felt my throat close up. "But it's all bullshit," I choked out.

We'd previously been walking about a foot away from each other, but I felt his arm brush up against mine for a second, the back of his fingers reaching out to gently tap the inside of my wrist. It was only for a moment, his touch disappearing just after that, but it was addicting. I couldn't stop myself from thinking, I want him to keep his hand on me. I want to feel his stubble on my ear again as he whispers in my ear, as I crumble to ashes in his presence.

But thoughts like that were dangerous. They never turned out the way I wanted them to. I would know, I spoke from experience. I swallowed the shard of pain that shot down my spine at the thought of Sam, concern for him causing my mouth to go dry.

Thankfully, I was dragged from those perilous questions as my parents sat down on the couch and waited for me and Bucky to do the same. When we followed suit, sitting uncomfortably next to each other and obviously not a very convincing couple, my mother spoke up.

"You've been together for...how long?" This time when she spoke, her eyes were like a hawk's, scrutinizing every movement of ours. She flicked her eyes down to our hands where they rested a few centimeters from each other's, tension clear in our fingertips.

"Around eight months," I answered after a beat, my voice hoarse. "We met at a bar."

My dad's eyebrows furrowed in confusion and a bit of anger, it seemed. Typical, I rolled my eyes inwardly. "Since when do you go to bars and drink?"

"Since I turned twenty-one," I retorted, "but you wouldn't know that because you weren't there, were you?" I glared at him, my eyes pointing icy daggers in his direction. "You were too busy grieving your favorite child, so I decided I'd just mess up a little bit more, and maybe you'd notice that time. Maybe you'd notice enough to actually care—"

"Enough." My mother's time was stern and held volumes of venom. "We're not having this discussion here. It's for private corners." She tipped her head in Bucky's direction.

Fuming, I shook my head and chuckled viciously. "He already knows."

I could feel Buck's eyes widen at my outrageous lie, turning to look at me. He leaned his body in again, just touching my shoulder with his. It was a warning: don't let yourself get in too deep. There's always a point of no return.

Pushing him off by shifting away from him, I answered his warning. Yeah, well, I passed that point when I decided to let a wanted man in my house, no questions asked.

"He...knows?" Dad sighed heavily, like a disapproving parent would do in front of a misbehaving child. In this case, the analogy was truth. "Elda, you can't tell everyone about such personal things, some things need to be kept private—"

"I know how important that information is to her," Bucky spoke up, surprising everyone as he entered the conversation. "Elda trusts me to keep it safe and not reveal it to anyone. That's what a trusting relationship is." He swiveled his head to look at me, but I wouldn't meet his gaze; I was trying to stifle my shocked expression from appearing on my face. How was he so good at this stuff?

My parents stared at me and Bucky for a good minute before my mom started up the interrogation again, this time in a lighter tone. Of course, I knew it was only temporary. "So...you met in a bar?"

I looked at Bucky and grinned. Maybe lying for another day wouldn't be too hard. I just had to get them out of the house. "Yeah, he was the most gorgeous one-armed man in the room."

Bucky turned away, that cold expression on his face like usual, but as his face left my view, I could see the facade cracking, his cheeks tinting pink in a blush, and his lips curling up in a smile, albeit small. But it was there.

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dedicated to lokis- and spideyshots and invinitywars- because they're so supportive of me and this story and i've let them down these past three weeks as well as all of y'all readers

so i leave for three weeks and keep you guessing on that cliffhanger and then i come back with this less than satisfying chapter lol i suck i'm sorry

also i never stopped listening to the nick leon atmosphere remix of chanel by frank ocean while writing this so i'm just in my feels if ya know what i mean

published on: july 29, 2018