NEW YORK 2024. 1 {NEAR PRESENT}

                                    

                                          
72 HOURS EARLIER - BROOKLYN, NEW YORK, 2024 
Bucky and Avery find solace within the cocoon of each other on Bucky's couch—their own private island amidst the bareness of his new apartment. The only furniture, a testament to a simple life he was trying to build, comprised the couch, a TV, and a bed tucked away in a separate room. 
Passionate kisses are exchanged, a dance between two souls seeking refuge from the outside world. The TV murmurs in the background, a forgotten spectacle that pales in comparison to the intensity of their connection. Wrapped in each other's embrace, the allure of shared intimacy renders the mundane show on the screen irrelevant. 
Avery's discarded clothes are scattered carelessly on the floor as a persistent beep punctuates the air, a stark reminder of the outside world encroaching on their sanctuary. Avery's phone, nestled among her garments, beckons for attention. 
Ignoring it at first, they revel in the moment, caught in a whirlwind of lust. But the beeping persists, demanding acknowledgment. A message from John illuminating the screen. 
"Avery, where are you?" 
Another beep echoes, underscoring the urgency of the inquiry. The spell between Bucky and Avery is momentarily broken, the outside world attempting to reclaim its presence.
"Ignore it," Bucky growls against Avery's lips, his desire for uninterrupted closeness evident. Avery sighs heavily, torn between the allure of their moment and the persistent beeping from her phone. As the insistent sound persists, she reluctantly pulls away. 
"I can't," she confesses to Bucky, her eyes conveying a mix of frustration and responsibility. Swiftly moving away from his grasp, she heads towards her phone. Bucky, resigned, shifts to lie on his back, watching her with a hint of disappointment. 
Avery reads the messages with a furrowed brow: 
"I'm about to go on. You were supposed to be here an hour ago." 
"Avery!" 
Her eyes widen in realization, and she hurries to gather her hastily discarded clothes. "Shit," she mutters, the urgency of John's messages cutting through the lingering warmth of their shared moment. The reality of commitments and obligations snaps into focus, demanding her immediate attention. 
Bucky observes Avery's fumbling attempts to hastily reassemble herself, a bemused expression etched on his face. He opens his mouth, likely to say something, but before the words can escape, her clothes are back in place, and she shoots him an apologetic glance. 
"I've got to go. I'm sorry. Rain check?" Avery offers a small, rueful smile, snatching her jacket from its perch against the door. Without waiting for a reply, she slips out of the room, leaving the door to close with a resounding thud. 
Bucky is perched on the edge of the couch, the room echoing with the absence of Avery's presence. His mind races, grappling with the sudden shift in the atmosphere. The rhythmic sound of his own breathing becomes a backdrop to the realization that their shared moment has been abruptly severed. 
He rubs the back of his neck, a reflexive gesture that mirrors the internal conflict within. The scent of her lingering perfume mingles with the air, a reminder of the warmth that dissipated with her departure. 
The door's closing thud reverberates in his thoughts, and Bucky contemplates whether to chase after her or let her go. The unspoken words and unfulfilled promises hang in the room like a delicate dance of what could have been. 
With a heavy sigh, he rises from the couch, the solitude amplifying the echoes of the untethered connection they shared. Bucky moves toward the window, staring out into the city beyond. Raindrops, like unspoken apologies, streak the glass, distorting the view of a world that momentarily collided with theirs before drifting apart. 
***
John stands resolute in his old military uniform, the stern lines of his face accentuated by the dim light of the college locker room. He's immersed in practicing his upcoming speech, the weight of responsibility evident in his focused demeanor. Only thirty-five minutes have passed since Avery left Bucky's apartment when she walks in. 
"You told me you were about to go on?" Avery questions, her dissatisfaction palpable as she throws her bike helmet onto one of the benches. Folding her arms, she eyes her brother, unimpressed by the unnecessary rush he seems to have caused. 
"I know I did," John remarks, not bothered by her irritation, his attention still on the speech preparation. He adds, "And you told me you'd be here on time," a pointed reminder of her earlier broken promise, the one she made inadvertently when lost in time with Bucky. Avery raises a brow in response but chooses to remain silent, acknowledging the lapse without words. The unspoken tension between them simmers in the locker room, both siblings navigating the delicate balance of their shared history and the pressing demands of the present. 
"Where were you, anyway?" John quizzes, his voice carrying a note of suspicion as he kneels down to tie a loose shoelace on his boots. 
"I was just running late, John. No need for the third degree tonight," Avery retorts, her tone tinged with mild exasperation. She settles onto the bench where her helmet lies, watching her brother closely. John offers a fake laugh, tilting his head at the last minute to conceal his irritation. Avery keeps a trained eye on him, her arms relaxing as she senses that he won't press further. 
"So, you ready to head out there and be Captain America?" she smiles, deftly steering the conversation toward a lighter topic, a subtle strategy to diffuse any lingering tension. The mention of his upcoming role brings a flicker of pride to John's eyes, momentarily setting aside the undercurrents of familial discord for the shared excitement of a significant moment in his life. 
"No, not really," John sighs, joining Avery on the bench. A solemn silence settles between them as they navigate the unspoken weight of his upcoming responsibilities. 
"Well, you've already done the hardest part," Avery offers, breaking the quiet with a thoughtful tone. John glances at her in wonder, prompting her to elaborate. 
"I have?" 
"At that press conference when they announced you as the newly appointed Captain America. That had to be the most nerve-wracking part," she suggests, trying to lighten the mood. However, John remains unconvinced, smiling lightly but looking away. 
Avery sighs, recognizing the need for reassurance. "John, it will be okay. Just talk to this reporter and be you. Then the real job can begin." She places a reassuring hand on his back, her earnest smile an attempt to instill confidence. John, moved by her support, smiles back, a glimmer of gratitude in his eyes for the sister who sees beyond the superhero facade to the person within. 
"So, are you going to be in the crowd, cheering me on?" John inquires, a hint of anticipation in his eyes. 
"I'm here now, aren't I? And early, might I add. Not late," Avery jests, playfully reminding him of the expedited effort he made to get her here as soon as possible. She pats his shoulder and grabs her helmet, preparing to leave. 
"I'll see you out there," she adds before heading for the door. Just as she makes her exit, Lemar walks in, clad in the same military camo as John. He smirks at the sight of Avery. 
"Ah, Ave... Do I want to know the reason you're late?" Lemar teases, a knowing look in his eyes. 
"I'm early, Hoskins. And you definitely don't," Avery sing-songs as she leaves, the playful banter echoing behind her. Lemar can't help but chuckle, shaking his head as he approaches his oldest pal.