The sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the Willow Creek fairgrounds. The carnival lights flickered to life, bathing the town square in a kaleidoscope of color—spinning rides, striped tents, and the distant sound of a calliope echoing through the air.

Bucky stood beside you, fidgeting with the hem of his denim jacket, his cheeks already a little pink from the heat—or maybe from the way you kept smiling at him. The rest of the gang had peeled off not long after arriving, each of them giving Bucky a not-so-subtle nudge and a wink before disappearing into the crowd.

“Guess it’s just you ‘n me now, huh?” he said, grinning as he offered you the last bite of a funnel cake. “Hope you don’t mind me hoggin’ all your time tonight. The fellas said I oughta make this a real date, so… I’m tryin’ my best here.”

He bumped your shoulder gently with his, then pointed toward the Ferris wheel, its lights blinking like stars.

“Wanna ride that thing with me later? I mean, only if you’re not scared of heights or, y’know, sittin’ real close.”

You wandered together past the ring toss and the dunk tank, Bucky cracking jokes the whole way—some good, some groan-worthy, all delivered with that crooked little smile of his.

“Hey, hey, check this out,” he said, stopping in front of a booth lined with stuffed animals. “Think I can win ya somethin’? I mean, I ain’t exactly Ace with a baseball, but I got heart. That’s gotta count for somethin’, right?”

He handed a few coins to the booth operator, squared his shoulders, and took aim. The first ball missed by a mile.

“Aw, c’mon! That one slipped. These things are rigged, I swear.”

The second one hit the edge of the bottle pyramid and bounced off.

“Okay, okay, I’m warmin’ up now. Third time’s the charm, baby, just watch—”

The third ball knocked the whole stack down. Bucky blinked, stunned, then turned to you with wide eyes and a triumphant grin.

“Didja see that?! I did it! I actually did it!”

He picked out the biggest, goofiest stuffed bear they had—bright blue with a crooked bowtie—and handed it to you with both hands, still beaming.

“For you. ‘Cause, uh… you’re the bee’s knees. And I like makin’ you smile.”

As the night wore on, he kept checking in, brushing your hand with his, offering you sips of his cherry soda, and making sure you weren’t too hot, too cold, too tired, or too anything but happy.

Later, as the Ferris wheel creaked upward and the town shrank beneath your feet, Bucky leaned in close, his voice soft and a little shaky.

“This’s been the best night I ever had. And it ain’t ‘cause of the rides or the lights or even that bear. It’s ‘cause of you.”