A Sense of Home
Natasha rolled her eyes when Bucky’s eyes darted towards the stairs for the thousandth times since they were assigned tasks to help Darcy with dinner. He always has a soft spot for broken people, she realized, or more like a radar. Her heart swelled at the thought. This man, who always thinks he’s not a decent human being, who would readily blame himself for everything, was so eager to reach out to those who need help. She supposed that what made her fell in love with him few years ago. A ghost of smile flashed across her face as she picked another carrot from the basket. Relationships are tricky. They did try it, hoping it could help heal some wounds in their hearts. It didn’t work out, of course. They’re destructive, they just have too much darkness within them and they weren’t ready to let it go. She was cutting her third carrot when she realized that she still loves him. It was a different kind of love, she noted.
“You’re thinking too much.” Wanda’s soft voice startled her. She smiled her shy smile and pointed at the carrot in her hand. “You’ll cut your finger.”
“I’m good with knives.” Natasha grinned. Her smile faltered at the sight of Wanda’s hesitant expression. “What is it?” She dropped her voice low enough so no one but Wanda could hear it. Natasha secretly thanked Phil for having this humongous kitchen.
“Is James okay?” James? Oh. Natasha sometimes forgot that Wanda was the only person Bucky allowed to call him James. Clint tried it once and Bucky smacked him with a huge pillow. Wanda took a step back, clearly worried when Natasha didn’t react but she quickly put her hand on the younger woman’s shoulder and gave her a small smile.
“He’s fine. You should go talk to him. I think he’d like that.” Natasha mentally patted herself in the back for being a good wing-woman. Wanda took few tentative steps towards Bucky and said a few words, which the latter replied quickly. Natasha snorted and went back to her vegetables.
* * *
Steve came downstairs once to get two glasses of water. He blatantly ignored Bucky’s hard stare and not-so-smoothly steered the conversation towards Darcy’s weirdly colored beef stew and Natasha’s overly-chopped vegetables. He quickly disappeared back into his room when he was done making small talks with them. Eva was still sitting at his bed, her back against the corner and her knees tucked under her chin, as if trying to make herself disappear. The rocking has stopped at least, he thought. He could understand why she picked the bed as her go-to place. It was strategically placed at the far corner of the room, giving her full view of the room, including the door and the large window. Steve couldn’t help but to feel angry. At what, or whom, he didn’t know. He was just angry for her.
“Here’s some water.” He smiled.
“I’m really sorry.” She spoke softly.
“It’s not your fault, you know that, right? It’s never your fault.” His face hardened, her words and her expression triggered a painful memory just two years ago. It was just like this, apologies over apologies until they were too tired to say it. He slowly took a seat on the edge of the bed, maintaining a respectful distance between them. “Do you want to tell me about that?” He asked.
She looked away from his eyes. She wasn’t supposed to be this weak, she swore. She was strong. Twenty-one years of living with Mrs. Moore made her strong, she stressed out. Anyone else, if it was anyone else, she would’ve bolted out the room, away from the house. But this was Steve. Steve, who patiently waited for her to speak. So speak she did.
“My mother.” Those two words that came out of her lips were enough of an answer for Steve. He started to piece everything together. Her timely arrival and departure from campus ground, her stiff posture when she was around strangers, how her smile was sometimes forced and cold when she talked to their classmates. Steve felt another pang of guilt for not noticing sooner.
“It’s not your fault, you know that right?” She copied his words with a faint smile on her face. He chuckled and shook his head.
“I know. I just thought that with what has happened, I would be more…” he paused, trying to find the right word for it. “more aware of this.”
“I’ll be fine, Steve. I’ve been okay for this long.” He detected a hint of sadness and submission in her voice. “It’s either me or my sister. I’m okay.”
“No one should be—“ he shook his head in frustration. Self-sacrificing. That hit home real quick.
“Hey, dinner’s ready.” Steve let out a string of curse when Bucky suddenly opened the door, causing her to jumped back in surprised. Her eyes wide and he watched her took in Bucky’s figure on the doorway before she calmed down. “Sorry. I should’ve knocked.” Bucky apologized.
“It’s okay. I’m-I’m fine.” She took a deep breath and gave the men a shaky smile.
Bucky watched her slowly crawled off the bed and patted Steve’s shoulder, mumbling thank you before she put on her shoes. He frowned again. He seemed to be doing that a lot today, he realized. Eva still looked a little shaky but she seemed adamant on having dinner together, so he let her passed. Steve still sat on the bed, his face stoic. Bucky knew that face. He was angry, livid even. He knew it must’ve been about Eva, so he didn’t push.
“Your girl is going to eat and you’re staying here?” Bucky said with a smirk.
“Shut up, jerk. She’s not my girl.” Steve replied with a scowl on his face, the faint smile on his face doesn’t escaped Bucky’s eyes.
* * *
Eva enjoyed her dinner with her new friends. Enjoyed was not enough to express how she felt about her first dinner with them. She was introduced to the other inhabitants: Clint Barton, who live for coffee and sleep (or so he says), Wanda Maximoff, who was quiet except when Bucky and her brother talked to her, and Pietro Maximoff, the other half of the Maximoff, who can barely keep still throughout the diner. They chatted a lot, much to her surprise. She wasn’t used to this must chattering during dinner. So yes, enjoyed would be an understatement, she realized. She felt happy. She felt at home.
She offered to wash the dishes when they were done. Everyone immediately said no except for Clint. He looked at her and stood up from his chair, motioning her to follow him to the kitchen. He pointed his finger towards the sink and went back to the dining room to grab the dirty plates. She let out a breath of relief and turned on the sink to wash her plate. She needed something to do, something to distract her.
“You should leave that place.” She froze when Clint spoke out. He stood next to her, helping her set the plates on the rack. Her eyes automatically went to her arms.
“My dad did the same thing to me. My mom would watch and not do anything.” Clint spoke again. She turned to him and waited for him to continue. “He was a respectable person, you know. Everyone loved my parents. And it was weird. They would give me stuff and were kind some days, then they turned into this… this monsters when I did something wrong.”
“I can’t leave.” She quietly said, turning her attention back to the plates.
“Yes, you can.”
“No, I can’t.” She sternly replied. “I-I have a sister. She’s still 14. My mom would hurt her if I leave. I have to stay. I have to keep her safe.”