The next day we decide to take Mira tree shopping, something she seems very confused by. She repeatedly asks how we are going to care for a tree in Bucky's apartment, pointing out that they need light, dirt, and space.
She really is a logical kid. Normal parents can just go "magic" and call it good, but she ain't buying that.
The air outside is cold, nipping at our noses as fog announces our breaths. We bundle Mira up and elect to take my car to get the tree since we don't want to drag it back and destroy it. Apparently, Bucky did not realize I left the key behind for him to use, so it just remained unmoved the whole time. Thankfully, the only problem is low gas, which is easily remedied.
When we get to the tree lot, Bucky picks Mira up and slips her onto his shoulder. I think he's worried he might lose her between the towering green ferns and the bustle of other families.
"Alright, Mira, which tree are we getting?"
She rests her chin on the top of Bucky's head, looking around at all of them before finally returning her gaze to me. "I don't know, they all look the same. Maybe a big one, I guess," she says, pointing to a towering fern that looks like it belongs in the entryway of a mansion. It probably would have fit fine in our place in Madripoor, but not here.
Bucky and I make eye contact before steering her in another direction toward trees that will actually fit. After walking through the lot for a little bit, she finally yells, "That one!"
Bucky and I both turn to find her pointing at a very short little runt of a tree. It's fluffy and full, a lush green, but only maybe three feet tall at best.
Bucky leans his head back a little to look up at her. "You sure? We can get one of the six-footers over there." He nods in another direction.
"No, this one. I like it." Sure of her choice.
Bucky passes her to me and gently picks the tree up, marching off to pay for it.
We don't really need the car for that thing, but I guess it's better to have it than not.
While we wait for him to return, we wander over to a small coffee cart and buy some hot chocolates. Passing a small one down to Mira, I stack the other two so I can keep her hand held tight.
Now that she's off Bucky's shoulders, I understand the fear of losing her. She's never had the habit of running off unless it pertained to books, but I have no desire to test it with this many kids her same size around us. Plus, she's all bundled up in a puffer jacket, beanie, scarf, and little mittens, same as every other kid here.
Bucky walks back over to us, his hands empty.
"Tree?" I ask.
"On the car already," he responds as I pass him his hot chocolate.
Before I can utter another word, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Bucky takes Mira's hand from mine. "Come on, sales guy told me there's a little winter carnival two streets down. We can walk over."
"I want to go!" Mira yells as she starts bouncing up and down in place.
Matching smiles immediately cross our faces. I love how mature she is, but I love it more when she gets to just be a little carefree, happy child interested in normal kid things. I mean, seriously, she's about to be five, and yet she's constantly running laps around us intellectually.
While we walk, I check my messages:
Echo: Scott Lang.Me: Ant-Man?Echo: Yeh. I'll send over the address in a little bit. He moves around a lot, but he should be at this one.Me: Perfect. How much is this going to run me?Echo: How about we say you owe me. I might need some protection soon.
Protection?
To my knowledge, no one really even knows where Echo is located, or has seen her in person for that matter. What the hell does someone who can stay completely hidden from the world need protection from?
Me: You need muscle or a place to hide?Echo: Muscle, if it comes to it.Me: Deal. Call me when you need it.
We spend the rest of the day at the winter carnival, going on rides, eating peppermint bark, and candy cane ice cream, which makes literally no sense to me, but Mira loves it.
By the end of the day, Mira is passed out in her car seat. Once we get back, I put her to bed; she basically stays asleep the whole time I carry her up. Bucky puts the tree in the corner of the living room. We forgot to get decorations for it, but there's time.
"I found Ant-Man. His name is Scott Lang. He lives in San Francisco," I say, walking back into the living room.
Both our expressions turn stone cold right away. Now the rest of the night is about work.
"I'm going to pay him a visit, find out what we need," I continue.
"I should go with you."
"No, someone has to watch Mira. We're not leaving her with Sam or anyone else again," I argue.
His expression sours, fighting back the urge to argue. Thinking through the situation and what to do. I know he wants to come, but this is the best option. I can move faster, and I'm unrestricted by some bullshit pardon and prying eyes that recognize my metal arm.
"Don't hurt him." he replies, finally conceding.
I roll my eyes. "I won't—unless he makes me." I shrug, grabbing my go bag hidden in the apartment.
"Oh, you meant now?" he asks.
"Yeah. No time like the present. If I go now, I'll be back before Christmas for sure." I say, nodding to the room.
He nods silently, biting his lower lip.
I'm not sure what washes over me, but the most natural instinct takes hold. I saunter over, cup his face, and plant a gentle kiss on his lips. A hint of peppermint and something sweet slips into my mouth as he pulls me into his chest, his tongue slipping into my parted lips.
For a little bit, the heavy weight of everything disappears again. The sea of anxiety becomes a still puddle. When we finally break apart, I fight the instinct to toss him onto the couch and straddle him. But I need to go now.
"I'll be back," I whisper against his lips, pecking him one final time.
"You better, or I'll come find you again," he replies in a gentle, low voice.
I grin at his words. "You promise?"
He chuckles, kissing me one last time—his silent answer. His mouth tells me he'll never let me go now that I'm in his grasp, that he'd hunt me down to the very ends of the earth if I tried to disappear again. A comfort I didn't know I needed.