Chapter 1
I shut my laptop lid, swivelling around in my chair.
“I’ve told you once, and I’ll tell you again… I’m not dating anyone from work, Claire.” I whisper to my colleague, a smile cracking at the corners of my mouth at the false, authoritative tone that escapes me.
“Why not?” Claire protests, standing from her chair. “It’s the easiest way to find someone who, like, gets you.”
I sigh, standing and grabbing my jacket, ready to head to lunch.
“I don’t have time for dating, anyway.” I shrug. “Too busy.”
Claire rolls her eyes playfully, smoothing the front of her skirt after reaching for her bag that sits on her desk. “Ah, yes, your fancy new side job. Avengers Analysis, or whatever they call it.”
I snort, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as we start heading to the cafeteria. “Mission Analysis, which just so happens to be for any Avengers missions that SHIELD supports. It's just data collection and manipulation, something I happen to be good at.” I look at Claire. “It's not like you aren’t starting an awesome new job next week, Ms ‘I'm going to work with the Threat Detection team’.”
She giggles, pushing the elevator button to take us downstairs. “Alright, you got me. But that’s not the point. We need to find you a date.” She folds her arms, standing guard of the elevator doors. “You’re painfully single.”
I scoff, poking a finger into her shoulder. “And you’re painfully pushy.” We walk into the elevator, a couple of people already standing in it. We squeeze in, descending to the ground floor.
“Sorry, I know you’re trying to help.” I utter to Claire after exiting the elevator, reaching the cafeteria in a matter of seconds. “But last time I dated someone from work, it didn’t work out too well.”
This is a conversation I want to avoid, but as much as I love Claire, she doesn't always know the best time to stop asking questions. Sometimes, it's easier to answer them. I collect a tray, scanning my eyes over the daily selection of food. I grab a sandwich from the cold counter, along with a side salad, picking up a pot of dressing to pair with it.
Claire hums, choosing the mac and cheese that I had yesterday. “Oh, you mean Molly? She’s a little weird, I guess. But that shouldn’t put you off altogether.”
“What? No, I’m not talking about Molly. That was just one time.” I mumble, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl. “It was a while ago, just out of the Academy.”
“Then what’s the issue? You were young, something was bound to go wrong.” Claire presses. I look at her, cocking an eyebrow, turning back to pay for my food.
“You’d be surprised.”
She rushes after me, sliding her tray onto the nearest empty table to us. She sits at the further side, tucking her chair under the table. “Surprise me then. Who was it?”
I sigh, swallowing a bite of my sandwich. “Claire.”
“What?” She protests, taking a sip of her drink. “Stop exaggerating, how bad can they be?”
I roll my eyes, knowing she will persist until she gets her answer. “Grant Ward.” I mumble, almost inaudible from embarrassment.
Claire splutters, nearly choking on her drink, exactly the response I was expecting. “You dated Grant Ward?!” She hisses.
“Yes, now shush!” I whisper harshly, and she covers her mouth with her hand. I take a brief look around the cafeteria, seeing if anyone was listening. “I didn't know he was a psychopath back then, obviously."
"Wait, when was this?" She asked, her brown eyes wide with excitement. "How old were you?"
"SHIELD recruited me in 2007. By the time Grant showed up, about a year later, I was nineteen, he was twenty five." I feel like vomiting just talking about it. "Looking back, the age gap alone should have been a red flag, but nobody would have assumed I was young at the time. It just seemed... normal."
"That doesn't make sense, you'd be older than nineteen." Claire looks at me, confused for a moment, but the logic catches up to her. "Oh, the snap."
"Twenty nine then, thirty now." I add, and Claire nods to show her understanding. She doesn't waste much more time before asking another question.
"How did you meet him?"
"Same Superior Officer, John Garrett. That’s why I went quiet for a couple of weeks when it went south, they had to check I wasn’t Hydra crazy.”
“Holy shit. Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” Claire asks, tucking back into her food.
I laugh, dryly. “It’s not really something that comes up in conversation. ‘Hey, Claire! Nice to meet you. My ex-boyfriend was Hydra, but I didn’t know I swear!’” I mock, still keeping my voice to a whisper, earning a laugh from Claire, who just swallowed the last of her lunch.
“Okay, okay, I see your point. No more questions.” She adds, and I nod, thanking her before finishing my own lunch, too busy telling ghost stories to chew.
My watch vibrates, showing the caller ID coming from my phone. Shit.
“Hey, uh, I have to go.” I say to Claire, hiding my watch face. “Mission just got in.” I tell her, and Claire nods, helping me to clear the table swiftly.
“Go be a hero.” She jokes, and I leave her to ride the elevator as I march down the corridor, my heart beating at double-time. My watch buzzes under my sleeve once more and I raise my wrist to check it. A text notification shows up on screen, reading:
Meet me in 3C. Now.
B.
•
I reach one of many large, wooden doors in this particular corridor, each one having an engraved plaque on the front, this one reading '3C'. I knock once, and only once, before the door opens, a hand gripping my wrist and pulls me in to the darkness. The door shuts, and my back is pushed against it, hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs.
Opening my mouth to speak, a pair of hands on my hips catch me by surprise, and I’m hauled upwards. I steady myself, legs curling around his waist until my ankles cross, wrapping my hands around the back of his neck. My senses are overwhelmed as our noses touch, stubble tickles my chin, thighs aching as the pads of his fingers press into my skin.
“Don’t date people from work, huh?” The gruffness of his voice sends an icy chill down my spine, and I arch my back in response, taking a heavy breath. He laughs darkly at my gesture, the vibration grazing my lips as he kisses me. I curl my fingers into his hair, mumbling words between hungry kisses.
“Not… dating.” I murmur. “Plus… It’s rude to… listen to... private... conversations.”
“Mhm.” He pulls away, much to my reluctance. He looks at me, his face still in close proximity to mine. “But really, Ward? Didn't know you had the hots for Hydra, darlin’.” He whispers, the smirk apparent in his tone.
“Screw you, Barnes.”
“Ugh. No time.” He retorts, and my cheeks burn like a wildfire. Bucky Barnes squeezes my thighs before letting me down slowly. He rests his left hand on the door above my head, and his right on my waist, lowering his head to mine as my feet touch the ground, trapping me underneath his frame. I rest my palms on his chest, passing the fabric of his t-shirt through my fingertips.
“Must be an unavoidable attraction to assholes.” I quip, looking at him from below.
“So, you admit that you’re attracted to me?”
I raise an eyebrow, giving him a knowing look. “You’re getting cocky in your old age. Slowing down, too?”
“I recall showing you the night before I left, that there is no truth to that statement.” He argues, kissing me slowly. I hum, swooning over the memory of that night.
“That reminds me.” I say, breaking the kiss. “You owe me a new headboard.” I hold my lower lip between my teeth, and he smiles with his head lowered.
“Sorry.”
I sigh, pushing myself up towards Bucky on my tiptoes, his hands now snaking around my waist. He stands up tall, and I admire his frame.
“If I say that I missed you, am I overstepping?” Bucky asks, catching me by surprise. I open my mouth to respond, but once again I’m interrupted. Not by Bucky, but by multiple voices outside. We snap out of it, and I quickly move away from the door, flicking on the light and rushing to take a seat, Bucky grabbing the tablet I hadn’t noticed on the table, sliding it down towards me. I pull up the software, glancing at Bucky quickly just before the door opens. He doesn’t look, but I see the corners of his mouth are turned upwards.
It’s been like this for a few months now, turning up to a briefing early, knowing we would be alone for a short amount of time, dependant on our busy schedules. The time soon became too short, so it turned into drunken nights in darkened, downtown bars, on my behalf. Eventually, Bucky would slip away from the compound, stealing a bottle of something Asgardian, stumbling through my apartment door. Most recently, the night we spent together resulted in a broken headboard, dark wood splintered by vibranium fingers.
I push my thoughts aside, my eyes leaving the tablet as multiple bodies clamber into 3C. I count five. Myself, Bucky, Sam, Maria, and Sharon. I watch the three who have just entered take their seats, finding myself looking twice at Sharon as she takes her seat, the one next to Bucky. She smiles to greet him, and I swallow, quickly looking back at my screen.
“So,” I begin, swiping the tablet screen up towards the larger monitor in front of me. “How was Ukraine?”