Chapter 3
I’ve never seen rain like it.
It was as if the heavens suddenly opened, and the water came crashing down onto our shoulders. Tyres slipping, horns honking, Bucky riding the bike like a damn maniac. I was holding onto him for dear life. To add to that, we’re now both soaking wet, Bucky more so, the hoodie dripping with water. He took the hood down pretty much as soon as it started raining, knowing there was no point of having it in the way.
The rain continues to pour onto the streets, the drains beginning to overflow onto the walkway. Bucky pulls up to my apartment, and I hop off the back of the bike, using him for stability. I flick the fogged up visor away from my eyes, and I can see Bucky squinting his eyes in my direction, drops of rain water falling from the short strands of hair. I sigh, feeling too guilty to let him stay outside. I motion towards the door with my head, and he follows almost instantly, not wanting to give me time to change my mind.
I take off the helmet, and he takes it from me, keeping his head down, like he usually does. We take the elevator up to my floor, not saying a word until we get inside, and even then, conversation is small.
“You’ve got clothes in the bottom drawer.” I point to my bedroom, peeling away his jacket from my skin simultaneously. “Go take a shower.”
Bucky quickly removes his hoodie and shirt, before disappearing into the bedroom, mumbling a quick ‘thank you’. I turn the corner to the kitchen, kicking my shoes into the corner of the room, throwing Bucky's wet clothes into the washing machine, then I start on making dinner. I make it for two, not needing to ask him if he's hungry, I understand the issue that his increased metabolism brings.
I hear the water start to run, and I take the opportunity to take a breath, resting my palms on the counter. All I wanted was to come home today, make a nice dinner and make sure to get some rest after work, maybe even have a bath. But no, I have a super soldier in my shower, and I need to pack for my first field mission in a very long time. I continue to chop and dice, dropping the ingredients into the oiled pan, poking and prodding with my spatula every now and again.
Not long after I hear the water stop running, maybe five minutes, I hear footsteps approaching behind me. I stay facing towards the stove, gently stirring the pan of pasta in front of me, then the pan behind it, with the sauce I just made. I can feel him behind me, the footsteps getting closer, and then his breath tickles my ear. A few weeks ago, I may have flinched, but it's become the norm. His slender fingers ghost over my shoulder, and I close my eyes, taking a breath for composure, not giving in to the temptation, despite the feeling his touch is giving me.
“You're right, about what I said.” Bucky murmurs into my ear, as I try not to think about the feel of his skin on mine. “None of my business.”
I’m unsure how to respond, so I say nothing for the time being. I reach up to the cupboard on my right, Bucky’s fingers falling away from my skin. I pull out two pasta bowls and place them on the side, next to the cooker, and turn to Bucky, who is a lot closer to me than I thought, but he takes a step back to give me space to move.
His hair is still wet from the shower, but he’s wearing dry clothes at least: a plain black t-shirt and matching sweatpants. He left them here the night he visited my apartment, forgetting to pack them back into his kit bag, because he returned back to the compound in his tac gear. Naturally, I washed them, keeping them in my drawer until he found the time to pick them up, which was probably just as well, otherwise he currently wouldn’t have any clothes to wear.
We’re now both leaning on opposite sides of the kitchen counter, and I form my response.
“I don't want to dwell on it, Bucky. It was a long time ago, and I'm trying my hardest to put it behind me.” I move back to the cooker, plating up two portions, passing one to Bucky, who mumbles another ‘thank you', grabbing two forks from the cutlery drawer for us. I dunk the pans into the sink, letting them soak, and follow Bucky to the table.
We’re sitting opposite each other, eating our food somewhat silently, starting to feel cold after removing the two jackets, sitting in a tank top, and trousers that are still damp from the rain.
“But you haven’t.” Bucky says, as I spin my fork around my plate, playing with the few remaining pieces of pasta. I look up at him, confused, waiting for him to finish. “It clearly still bothers you.”
I sigh, placing my fork in my bowl, sliding it to the centre of the table.
“Can you blame me?” A sudden wave of emotion hits me, and I try to laugh it off, but I can’t stop the words from flooding the damn room. I’m still mad at him, and he keeps bringing it up.
“I’ve tried, but I can’t.” I shake my head. “Every day, I think about how I let it all happen. Right under my nose, he lied, cheated, blackmailed, killed. He was Hydra, and I was fucking clueless.”
“Hey.” Bucky reaches for my hand, but with Ward at the forefront of my mind again, the touch made me flinch. “There was nothing you could’ve done. You couldn’t have known.”
I sniff, now unable to keep the tears at bay. I sit back and groan, pulling my hands away, burying my face between them. Bucky drags his chair across the floor as he pulls it towards me, sitting by my side. I don’t look at him, I can’t. My eyes are starting to sting. Damn you, Barnes, I never wanted you to see me like this. I mumble a distorted ‘sorry’ from behind my palms, but I don’t know why.
“Don’t apologise for being upset. Hey,” He pulls my hands from my face, but I pull away, rising from my seat.
“Please...” I step away, wiping the stray tears from underneath my eyes, standing tall. “I didn’t want to talk about this, it just slipped out." I admit, starting to panic, the situation feeling all too familiar. "A-and don’t feel sorry for me, I don’t want that from you.” I run my hands through my hair, the ends slightly damp from the rain, where my hair escaped the motorcycle helmet. “Just… go home, Bucky. Please. It’s clearly not a good time.” I pick up both bowls, making my way to the sink.
“There’s never a good time to talk about things like this.” He states, before calling my name, and his eyebrows tighten. “But you need to, trust me.” But the more he pushes, the more annoyed I become.
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore, forget I said anything.”
Bucky stands, clearly frustrated, because he pushed his chair back enough to send it clattering to the ground, forgetting his strength for a moment. I stop in my tracks. “Stop being so damn stubborn for five minutes and just listen.”
“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” I challenge, my voice laced with disbelief. I place the dishes into the sink, clutching onto the sides of the counter, trying to steady myself as the repressed memories continue to surface, the trauma that remains causing confusion between what was then, and what is now. The sudden outbursts, raising his voice, taking it too far. There's always an apology that follows, and then the expectation of forgiveness. Back then, it would have scared me, and it would have worked, but I've lived through this once before, I won't do it again. “No wonder I can’t forget. You behave in exactly the same way.” I look up, chuckling at the irony.
Bucky takes a step forward, not liking what he hears. “As who?” He asks, pressing for an answer, but he already knows it. He wants me to say it. "Go on, tell me."
“Don’t push it, Barnes.” I warn him, and he takes a sharp breath, recoiling, like it hurts to hear it.
“To even think of comparing me to that monster, you're fucking delusional.”
“Who knows, you were probably Hydra buddies.” I snap, and Bucky just looks at me, shocked. I swallow, knowing I'm crossing a line that I shouldn’t be crossing. I hate this feeling, like my blood is boiling, but something inside me feels better for antagonising Bucky, knowing he’s just as angry as I am. It’s selfish, but I’m blinded by it.
“All I’ve done is try to help you. Where is this even coming from?!” His voice raises further, and the sound makes me wince.
“You’re not my fucking boyfriend, Bucky! I’m just a way for you to pass your time.”
“God! Are you serious?” He shouts now, raising his hands to his head. “Is that what you really think of me? That I’d do just about anything to get in bed with you?”
My silence gives Bucky his answer, and he scoffs, making his way to the door, clearly not wanting to spend another minute in my apartment. I won’t stop him from leaving.
“Don't act like it’s a one way thing, like you never wanted this. Hell, you were practically begging me for it a few weeks ago.” He looks up and down my body as he responds, and for the first time, I feel vulnerable around him. My mouth sits open, cheeks burning with embarrassment. He stooped as low as I did, searching for that insecurity of mine. Feeling weak.
“Get out, Barnes.” I seethe, gritting my teeth. “After this mission, whatever this is,” I motion between us with my hands. “Whatever we had, it’s done.”
“Good.” He turns swiftly towards the door, taking his jacket and helmet, not taking a second look behind him. He pulls the door open, which surprisingly stays attached to the frame, and slams it behind him, leaving me alone, and extremely pissed off.