Chapter 8
Striding down the corridor towards 3C, I feel a different kind of nervousness, and not the usual welcomed warmth in the pit of my stomach. Instead, nausea bubbles in my oesophagus, contemplating the unknown. I sent a message to Bucky earlier, asking if he knew anything about the impromptu meeting arrangement, but his response only increased my nervous disposition. I thought if he had turned up at SHIELD HQ this morning, he may have made a pit stop at my desk, but it seems that finding me was his only destination.
Bucky should be back at the Avengers compound by now, assuming he’s still avoiding his apartment. He spends as little time there as physically possible, only using it as a hub to bathe, eat and change his clothes. Even then, if he’s able to do any of that elsewhere, he will often choose to do so. I don’t think he likes to be alone for too long.
Upon learning that Bucky was unaware of the meeting, I told him that I’d fill him in, as it seems like it’s just myself, Sharon, plus one more, who Sharon referred to as ‘boss’.
I see Sharon outside of 3C as I draw closer. Her shoulder blades rest against the wall as she stands, and she’s crossed her ankles over. She traces the lid of her coffee cup with her finger, stopping as her eyes flick over to me, straightening her posture.
Sharon makes me a little nervous. It could be the fact that she’s a Carter, the image of her Aunt playing with my perception. I don’t want the comparison to Peggy Carter to discredit her hard work, because she’s a damn good agent, with more experience than I could ever hope for.
“Hey,” Sharon greets, “how are you holding up?”
“As good as new.” I offer a smile, patting a hand on my previously fractured rib cage, any sign of damage no longer present. “Any idea what this is about?” I ask, motioning towards the door.
Sharon shakes her head. “Nope. Director’s orders, though.” She replies, pushing down the handle. Luckily, the room is empty when the door opens, so I have time to ask a question.
“The director wants to see us? Why?”
“No idea. Sam got the order. He said to invite you, that’s all I know.” Sharon takes a seat, sipping her coffee. “You learn not to ask too much, but also not too little. Don’t want to seem like you aren’t interested.”
I take a seat next to her, nodding slowly. I must be visibly confused, as Sharon chuckles when she looks at me, seeing me taking the convoluted advice. Movement on the other side of the door causes us to divert our attention. Director Mackenzie enters the room, holding a tablet to his chest. He wears a navy blue suit, white shirt, and matching tie, complete with a small SHIELD crest pinned to his lapel. As he raises his hand to shut the door, I catch a glimpse of his cufflinks. Silver, shaped like axe heads.
“Good morning, Director.” Sharon greets, leaning across the table to shake the man’s hand. He mimics her action, taking her hand and grasping it firmly.
“Agent Carter, good to see you again. And you must be…”
Now turning to me, he pauses, giving me time to introduce myself. I state my title, followed by my name, shaking his hand in the process. I’ve heard a lot about the new SHIELD director, but never had the privilege to meet him, until now. He stands extremely tall, well over six feet, his broad shoulders and muscular physique adding to his overwhelming stature. His head is shaved, and his voice is as deep as his presence is threatening.
“On behalf of SHIELD, I want to thank you for your efforts in Europe.” Director Mackenzie praises, setting the tablet on the table and taking a seat, resting his hands in his lap. Sharon and I sit down next to each other, adjacent to the director.
“Thank you, Sir. My first field mission in a while, just glad it was a success.” I try to swallow my nervousness, but to no avail, it doesn't disappear.
“Well, if you’re even half the agent that went on that mission, my job just got a whole lot easier.” He raises an eyebrow, shifting to get comfortable in his chair, removing the cover from his tablet screen.
“First things first, Deputy Hill sends her apologies. She wanted to be here, but ultimately got caught up with something else. Secondly, because of where both of your efforts are required, you’re receiving promotion to full Level Seven clearance. But, for this one assignment, you will be operating at Level Eight. Is that clear?”
We both nod, not daring to say a word.
He props the tablet up, facing it towards me and Sharon, not bothering to waste any time blowing it up onto the big screen. An image appears in front of us, and although slightly blurry, the face is too familiar to misjudge. I swallow, feeling as if the dark, tired eyes are staring at me through the screen. I already know what’s coming next, but I know my place, waiting for the information to come from the director’s mouth.
“This is a still from the Raft’s security system. Baron Zemo escaped from the facility seventy-two hours ago.” Director Mackenzie states, and Sharon’s posture stiffens at the mention of his name. I believe she’s come into contact with Zemo before, or the aftermath.
“You can’t be serious. How?” Sharon exclaims, eyes flicking between the tablet and the director, before he pulls the tablet away from us.
“I’m hoping the two of you can help answer that. He couldn’t have done this alone, he’s had help from someone.” He focuses his attention on me, now. “We need to find out who, and because he has the advantage of time, we could really use your tracking skills to locate him quickly. Can you do that?”
“Of course, sir.”
I take a deep breath in through my nose, hoping some fresh oxygen will clear my head. This case means more to me than the two people in this room realise. Personal cases generate more risk, there’s more chance of being consumed by emotion, instead of thinking with my head. I can’t let that happen, for Bucky’s sake. I am relieved that he won’t have to call in any favours, though, like we discussed this morning. Director Mackenzie beat him to it.
“Before we go any further, I need to make you aware of something important.” He warns us with a stern look. “Sergeant Barnes is one of our greatest agents, and although Zemo poses a personal threat to him, we can’t afford to keep someone like him away from the action. However, we are still uncertain whether his treatment in Wakanda was one-hundred percent successful.”
Jesus, how much bad luck does Bucky run into?
I butt in, unhappy with the uncertainty. “Does he know? Sergeant Barnes… does he know the treatment may not have worked?” Sharon glances in my direction, but I keep my focus on the man across the table. He nods, soothing my anxiety. I’d hate to know something about Bucky that he doesn’t know about himself.
“The tests that were run in Wakanda were successful, but performed in a calm, controlled environment. SHIELD needs to verify if the outcome is the same with our own testing, which will put Barnes under stress. Until that happens, we will not know for certain if the conditioning has been completely removed.”
“Excuse the term but, if Barnes is such a loose cannon, why hasn’t this been done already?” Sharon asks, and I begin picking at the skin around my fingernails.
“His trauma is currently too great, and whilst he’s still attending his court mandated therapy, we can’t force him to be subject to more testing.” The Director takes a breath. “Agent Carter, this is where you’ll come in. I’d like you to give our new recruit a combat refresh, so if things go south with Barnes, you’re both prepared for the worst case scenario.”
“I’ll get her up to speed, Sir.” Sharon offers a supportive smile, but my mind is elsewhere.
I open my mouth to speak, but the words don’t come. It’s hard to hear about Bucky’s trauma, because he hides it so well. When spending casual time with him, it’s easy to forget his past - where he came from, what he’s seen, what he’s done… I would love nothing more than to shield him from the demons that creep into his mind as night arrives, haunting him with vicious memories. But it raises an important question: How do you protect someone from themself?
“Just remember, if there are any signs at all that Barnes could be compromised, he will have no control over his actions. You look after yourselves first.” Director Mackenzie gives his orders, and Sharon and I nod in agreement. Myself, reluctantly. If something happens, and Bucky loses control, the last thing I would do is think of myself first, whether SHIELD agrees or not.
If John Garrett taught me one thing, it was to never ride out the storm, but confront it head on. Resilience quickly became a personal strength of mine.
“If we’re all clear… Agent Carter, I’d like a word with our new recruit in private, if you don’t mind?”
“Of course.”
Sharon says her goodbyes, leaving the room swiftly.
“I had a look through your file.” Director Mackenzie states, barely leaving any time for the door to close, and I sit up straight, unsure on where the conversation is leading. His answer is blunt, straight to the point. “Frankly, I think your talent is wasted on mission analysis and write-ups.”
My eyes wander away from his intense gaze, and I return to picking at my fingernails. As grateful as I am for the praise, I don’t want it, not if it means digging up my past again. Something tells me that I might not have a choice.
“With all due respect, Sir, I had my reasons for taking a step back.”
He stands, tucking his chair in behind him. He walks around the table towards me, opting to sit in the chair next to mine instead, turning his body to face me.
“I once considered Grant Ward as a friend, so did the rest of our team. He worked hard and got the job done, people looked up to him. That was why his betrayal hurt so much, because we could never have seen it coming.”
I pause, trying to think of the best way to address the topic, without breaking down in tears, or worse.
“I knew he wasn’t perfect, but even after the pain he caused me personally, I couldn’t accept that he was Hydra.”
“I know you defended him when you were questioned. If I hadn’t seen what I’d seen, I would’ve done the same thing. I don’t blame you, nobody does.”
I smile, genuinely, with the feeling of a weight being lifted from my shoulders. I’ve carried so much guilt, thinking I was responsible for someone else’s actions, someone who I trusted with my life. Nobody has ever understood, because they didn’t know him like I did, or at least I thought, until now.
I can’t think of a way to express my gratitude, so I keep it brief.
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Please, call me Mack, and for the job… What do you need?” The director, Mack, asks, not dwelling on the conversation. I smile, appreciating the gesture, and my confidence starts to return, knowing my thoughts may finally rest.
“Alright, Mack… First, you need to get me to that prison. I’ll need to recon in person to understand every detail of his escape.”
“Done.”
“Second, access to all footage SHIELD has its hands on. Security cameras, drones, satellites, the lot. I’ll narrow it down based on my findings at the Raft, first. Then, we go from there.”
“Alright, let’s get to work.”
“Ouch.” I groan, my back hitting the mat beneath me. It’s not my back that hurts, it’s the elbow that Sharon is digging into my side.
It’s been a day since the meeting with the Director, after which he advised that myself and Sharon were to transfer to the Avengers Compound for training, since the resources are more suitable. I agreed with Sharon to train for the next two days, whilst I’m waiting for my trip to the Raft, organised by Mack. I’ve been given the all clear for combat with my body being completely healed, so naturally, Sharon is reversing the process.
“See how easy that was?” She quips, rolling away from my body, allowing me to stand. “Now you try.” She takes several steps back, settling into her running stance. I nod, setting off running towards her. As she gets closer, I drop to the floor, gliding underneath the gap between her legs, swiping her ankle to the side. Her balance falters, and as she falls towards the mat, holding back some of my weight, I position my elbow into her side. For training purposes, full power definitely isn’t necessary. Sharon grunts as she hits the mat, keeping her head lifted. “Good.” She instructs, moving my hand towards her holster to demonstrate. “Now you have the positional advantage to pin down a taller enemy, and disarm them.” I pull the prop knife from her holster, flipping it in mid-air, bringing it down to Sharon’s throat.
“Exactly. But…” I feel a pull on my own holster, and a pointy object is pressing into my abdomen just as quickly. “You need to keep an eye on your own weapon, too.”
I chuckle, rolling away from Sharon.
“Damn it.”
“Don’t panic, you got the hang of it real quick.” She praises, and I bounce from my knees to my feet, pushing myself up to stand. “Now, it’s your turn to show me something.” She calls, walking away to grab her water bottle. She grabs mine too, throwing it over to me. I lean to my right slightly, catching it with an outstretched hand.
“You want me to think you haven’t got a memory full of your Aunt’s tricks?” I smile smugly, taking a sip of water before throwing my bottle to the side.
“Hey, there’s only so much one person can remember. Come on.” Sharon claps her hands. “Show me something.”
“Okay, fine.” I groan, playfully.
I walk towards my bag, grabbing my issued pistol and returning to the mat.
“It's just a tip, but I used it when I graduated from the Academy.” I remove the clip, emptying the bullets into my hand, transferring them to my pocket. “We were on a low-grade combat mission, I had my gun pointed at someone who was running towards me. I was ready to fire, but as I pulled the trigger…” I put the clip into the chamber, raising the weapon to Sharon’s chest and pulling the trigger, and an empty ‘click’ follows it, but Sharon doesn’t even flinch. “I realised that I ran out of bullets, I forgot to keep count.” I pull the release, letting the clip fall into my spare hand. I raise the empty pistol, swinging it in slow motion towards Sharon’s cheek.
“Now, you could easily block that attack, but by taking the mag out…” I pause, bringing the magazine up for a second attack. “It gives me another option with my less dominant hand. I was always taught to be resourceful, so I learnt that a gun isn’t completely useless once the bullets run out. Much more effective having two pieces of metal in your hands than just using your fists.”
“Huh.” She eyeballs the metal that crossed her face seconds ago. “Smart, I like it.” She says, as I shrug my shoulders, fitting the gun into my holster.
“It’s not much, but I figured you probably know all the other moves I was taught in training already.” I say, pushing her shoulder lightly, and she snickers.
“Don’t beat yourself up about it, I’ve basically been training since I was six.” She smiles, the outer corners of her eyes creasing. I roll my eyes, chuckling to myself, before thinking of an idea.
“Oh, and there’s this.” I add, eyeing Sharon. I drop my shoulder, positioning it to her chest. I move my arms around her body, standing tall so I can throw her weight over my shoulder. I keep my arms in position, and drop to my knees with Sharon. Her back hits the mat with an ‘oof’.
“Thanks for the warning.” She groans between our intermittent laughter, and slowly sits herself up. I stand, offering an outstretched arm to Sharon, which she accepts, and I pull her to her feet.
The door to the gym creaks open, and someone makes themselves known.
“Maybe you should take a vacation, Carter.”
I turn my head to the voice, recognising it instantly, but holy shit, I’m going to have to try painstakingly hard to pull my eyes away, as Bucky flicks a towel over his shoulder after walking through the door. A fitted, white t-shirt is stretched over his chest, the sleeves riding up slightly over his biceps. Paired with the black training shorts he wears sometimes, the ones that rest a little bit lower than usual on his hips, my mouth is almost watering. The sleek, black running shoes on his feet make his steps almost silent, and something about it makes my insides turn in anticipation, a complete contrast to the usual heaviness of his boots. I swallow, composing myself whilst Sharon responds to him, and he gives me a funny look, most likely wondering why I’m here.
“You first, Gramps.” She shouts over, and Bucky laughs. The sound is delightful. It’s not something I hear often, nor does anyone else, but oh, it’s a joy. I just can’t help but wish it was me that made him laugh.
“Sorry, I hope I’m not interrupting.” Bucky gestures, having made his way over swiftly. He walks past us, presumably to the various equipment behind. A trail of his cologne lingers behind him, and the scent reminds me of the first time he came to my apartment, with it being the same one he wore that night.
A bundle of nerves, limbs intertwining in the comfort of my living room. His fingers traced the bare skin on the top of my arm, breath tickling the tip of my nose. Hands swiftly grasped my waist and on my hips to carry me to bed, the situation escalating quicker than we imagined. It wasn’t the first time that we fucked, but something about the setting made the experience a hell of a lot better. A bed, a real one, instead of my back pressed against a wall in 3C, or around a corner at the end of an unoccupied corridor. We made the most of what we had.
“No, just a quick training session with our new recruit here.” Sharon emphasises, which breaks me from my trance, flicking my eyes over to Bucky as he sets his towel down on a bench. He turns round to raise an eyebrow at me as Sharon’s back is turned, but I don’t react.
“New recruit, huh?” Bucky questions, perching on the end of the bench, feet planted firmly on the floor, and I hum, nodding my head slowly, trying to pull my eyes away from the material of Bucky’s shorts that slightly rides up his thighs. A beep from Sharon’s watch fills what could have turned to an awkward silence, and she checks it immediately. I suck in a breath.
“Director’s orders, right Sharon?” I say to Sharon, turning away from Bucky’s glare to make an attempt of slowing my heart rate down.
“Uh-huh, came to tell her himself.” She beams, looking at Bucky and sticking a thumb in my direction. “Hey, I gotta run, but I’ll see you for the next one, ‘kay?” She diverts, rushing to her belongings, packing up her stuff.
“Yeah, see you then.” I smile, and wave goodbye, seeing Bucky in the corner of my eye doing the same. The moment the door is closed and Sharon is out of earshot, Bucky’s attention diverted back to me, with a raised eyebrow.
“Looks like you don’t need my recommendation after all.” He says, voice low whilst Sharon puts some distance between us. The bench creaks as he cranes his neck towards the door. “Or my training.”
“Carter’s great, but how could I ever say no to a super soldier personal trainer?” I reply with a playful tone. Bucky scoffs, clearly covering his laughter.
“Is that all I am to you?” He shakes his head, pushing himself up to stand.
“Alright then.” He uses his left hand to crack his knuckles on the right. “Show me what you’ve learnt.”
“I don't mean now.” I roll my eyes, but I realise he’s being serious when he takes a few steps closer.
“Come on… Close contact isn’t exactly foreign to us, Agent.”
“I’ve just trained for over an hour with Sharon, you really think I want to train more, Sergeant?” I emphasise his title, as he did with mine. I try to ignore his request by turning away to grab my things, but before I can escape, strong, slender fingers grip my wrist, pulling me backwards. I let out a gasp, and two arms wrap around me, trapping my arms at my sides. Bucky pulls me towards him, my back pressed against his abdomen. He curls his head round to my ear, whispering softly.
“See? This is fine, right?”
I lurch forward, goosebumps pricking at my skin, but he doesn’t move an inch.
“I swear to god, Bucky, if someone walks in here I will-“
“You’ll what?”
Sick of playing, I push myself slightly backwards, my ass brushing against his crotch. The feeling sparks a fire in my core, after being deprived of touch for too long. I feel his grip loosen, a slight breath escaping his lips. Needing to concentrate, I seize the opportunity, jamming my heel into Bucky’s shin, knowing the shock will shoot straight up his leg. He groans, loosening his grip around my body and I duck down to scramble free.
“Not fair.” I whine, taking a few backward steps away from him. “I can’t use that trick on a real perp.”
Come on, you aren’t scared, are you?” He sneers, shaking out the leg I just kicked in an attempt to relinquish the feeling. I know he’s trying to aggravate me, but regardless, I still ball my hands into fists, stretching the material of the fingerless gloves that protect my knuckles, somewhat. The gloves were something that I turned to not long after I missed a punch once, and my knuckles grazed a brick wall, ripping the skin, which took a long time to heal. I see a glint in Bucky’s eye, he knows what he’s doing is working, which irritates me even more.
“Scared? No.”
I rush towards him, sliding through the gap between his legs, as Sharon had just taught me. I’m quicker than him, being smaller, but I knew Bucky would be harder to drop. Before he could turn, I kick him behind the knee, throwing his balance. I shove into his back with my shoulder, and as he falls towards the ground, he catches himself with his metal arm, his body turning to face me. I fumble with the gun in my holster, nerves getting the better of me, and the wasted time proves to be an issue. Like a moth to a flame, he jumps up to catch my wrist. The gun clatters to the ground, and Bucky lets out a ‘tsk’ sound, shaking his head as I try to pull away. He’s quicker than I anticipated, but the degrading notion spurs me on to keep trying.
I duck under Bucky’s arm, twisting it so he has to let go of my wrist. He flings his other arm towards me, the metal one, and I duck out of its way. After a couple more dodges, a subtle smirk graces my lips, inviting him to keep trying. Bucky picks up on this, and he pushes forward, exerting pressure. I flip backwards onto my hands to evade the incoming attacks, my toes clipping his fists as he follows me forward. In between the time of my hands leaving the mat, and my feet hitting the ground, an idea comes to me.
As Bucky’s left hand comes flying towards me, I wait until the very last second to react, bringing my hand up to my face, which takes the impact, but I crash down to the mat with a grunt, rolling once onto my front.
“Shit, I- I didn’t mean to do that.” Bucky stammers as he falls down to my side as I pretend to struggle. My tired arms help my case as they wobble slightly under my weight. He snakes an arm around my waist to help me up, but I take my chance to send Bucky off balance, using the opportunity to throw my weight over him as he lands on the mat. My legs are planted on either side of his hips, with one arm pressing down on his chest. My other hand finds the training knife sitting in its holster and I press the rubber blade to the base of Bucky’s throat, his eyes wide as he breathes out.
“I win.”
Bucky’s head lifts from the floor, and his throat takes some of the pressure of the rubber. Although non-endangering, something about the action makes my chest tight. His own rises and falls with his breath, and my heart continues to hammer. He stays there for a second, without saying a word, before a small pressure digs into one of my hips, the size of a thumb, then pads of fingers on my back. Suddenly, he grabs my hand, pulling the blade away from his throat, and I’m rolled roughly to the side, my back touching the mat as I suck in a breath, Bucky’s frame now over mine. His bare knee ghosts in the space between my legs, and my wrists are pinned above my head with his free hand, the other still gripping my hip.
“Wouldn’t work on a real perp.” He grunts, repeating my words to me, his face dangerously close to mine, so close that I can smell mint in his breath. The knee he placed in between my legs creeps upwards, ghosting over the Lycra that separates us, my mouth opening with a gasp at the crude gesture.
“Buck…”
His eyes fall to my parted lips, and his grip on my wrists loosens, resting his hand on the floor next to my head. I find my newly freed hands wrapping around the back of his neck, closing the gap between us as I pull him in.
Bucky kisses me, with a hunger and passion that I haven’t felt from him before. I pull a sharp breath in through my nose at the feeling, dragging my fingers through his hair. He’s right in one sense. He won, but so did I, because I’m laying here speechless, with a conspicuous level of sexual frustration towards Bucky fucking Barnes.
After the mission in Romania, when Bucky came to see me during my recovery, the only time he touched me was to help me off the couch. It was torture, but I could tell that he carried some guilt. The way my eyes would meet his, and he’d avert his gaze, more often to my injuries than not. He would sit at the other end of the couch, in fear of hurting me further. When he grew tired, no matter how much I protested that he could’ve stayed, he never did. He always got back on his bike to go home.
I take a deep breath as he pulls away, his eyes flickering over me. My hands rest loosely at the sides of his neck, feeling every breath he takes.
“You cheated.” I mumble, as my heart hammers at an alarmingly fast rate.
“That makes two of us.” Bucky adds. In fairness, he’s much stronger than me. It would almost be impossible to pin him to the floor without an advantage, something that won’t always concern me whilst in the field. Super soldiers aren’t that common.
“You started it.”
Bucky shakes his head, chuckling. As he stands, my hands are left empty, but he quickly offers his outwards and I take it, holding onto him as he pulls me up.
“See? Showing me what you learnt was fun.”
I roll my eyes at Bucky’s comment, shoving him in the chest. He stumbles back with a laugh, and I turn away to hide the smirk painted across my face. I finally manage to collect my things, and Bucky returns to the bench.
“So, they put you on the team?” Bucky calls over, asking the dreaded question, as I finish packing my things, slinging my bag over my shoulder.
“Yeah. The director reviewed our mission.” I say, taking a few steps forward so I don’t have to continue raising my voice. “Apparently, he thinks I’ll be useful.”
“Useful how?”
“He wants me to track Zemo.” I say, pursing my lips as I await his response.
He sighs, resting his head in his hands, but I struggle to tell whether it’s regret or relief.
“So, even if I hadn’t asked, you’d still be doing it.”
“Yeah… I’m still glad that you came to me first.”
“You shouldn’t value my opinion over the Director’s.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s the Director.”
“And?”
“I’m a former war criminal, honey.” The sarcasm reels off Bucky’s tongue with ease. I often forget he was the ‘ladies man’ back in the forties, apparently. Probably had a huge ego.
“You’re an asshole, more like.”
“An asshole who’s opinion you value?”
I let out an exaggerated groan, doing a turn on the spot with frustration. “You’re so difficult.” I express, looking down at him as he’s perched on the bench. His legs are parted, feet stuck firmly to the ground, and he rests his forearms on his thighs.
“My request was selfish, his wasn’t.”
“It’s not selfish to ask for help, Bucky. And it’s okay to be scared. Sounds like Zemo put you through hell.”
“The only thing I’m scared of right now…” He stands abruptly, and my head turns upwards to his height. “…is that there's a chance that everything that happened, might happen all over again. I hurt a lot of people, I can’t afford to add you to that list.”
I think honesty is the most important thing in this scenario, so I start by telling Bucky about what the Director told Sharon and I. It’s not something I was planning on keeping a secret for too much longer.
“The Director told us about your treatment, that they can’t be certain it worked. That’s why I’m at your fancy campus, that’s why Sharon is training me. And that’s why I still want you to train me, so I can be at my best to help you. Not because you asked, or because the Director asked, or because anyone else asked, but because I want to.” I take a breath, adjusting the bag strap on my shoulder. “Okay? I told you I didn’t want you to leave, which means I’m not going anywhere. So please, don’t push me out.”
Bucky stands in silence, his brow arching in what seems to be a flurry of emotion. He slowly closes the gap between us again, now close enough to reach his hands to the sides of my face. My heart skips at the gesture, fingers brushing across the back of my neck, leaving goosebumps behind as they move up into my hair, and he pauses for a split second, his face hovering over mine.
“I need you to hear me. If anything happens, and I…” he stops mid sentence. “You need to be able to do whatever you can to stop me. No hesitation. Can I trust that you’ll do that for me?”
“Well, I mean, not everything-”
“Listen.” He interrupts, moving his fingers back down and around the sides of my neck, lightly holding me in place. “Mackenzie has access to a small supply of non lethal weapons, one’s that can knock me out. I’ve seen them, but he doesn’t advertise them, because he doesn’t want the tech falling into the wrong hands. The agents that made them retired, and he won’t let anyone else make them.” He takes a deep breath in, then out, slowly. “I need you to ask him for one, just in case.”
“What if he says no? What then?”
“How could anyone say no to you?” Bucky’s smiling now, his eyes slowly trailing down from mine, all the way to my lips. I sigh, goosebumps following the fingers running down my arms before they fall back to his side. He still wears a soft smile as I look up, blood warming my cheeks. I’m still not fully used to seeing him this way.
“Fine. I’ll go and see him tomorrow.” I mumble, and he nods.
“Thank you.”
Bucky pauses for a moment, before quickly reaching down, much to my surprise, placing a gentle kiss at the corner of my mouth. He makes his way back to the bench he was sitting on previously, and I shake away the feeling, starting to make my way out of the gym, but his voice pulls me to a stop once more.
“You want dinner this weekend, newbie?”
“Newbie, huh?” I raise an eyebrow as I turn back around, questioning the nickname.
“A businessdinner.” He says, making his sarcasm apparent. “I’ll choose a place, and you can update me on your meeting with the Director. But I’m only offering once.” He points a finger my way, and I smile smugly, taking a few backwards steps towards the door.
“Sure.” I nod, before turning away, throwing the rest of my response over my shoulder. “I’ll update you on my trip to the Raft, too.”
“I’m sorry, the Raft?”
“Got some research to do.”
“Jesus, you aren’t going alone are you?”
“Of course not!” My eyes widen at the thought. “You think I’d go in there alone? Deputy Hill will be with me.”
“Okay, good. Well, I’ll see you on the weekend. Wear something nice.” Bucky calls after me, and I chuckle, as I can almost feel his eyes following my ass as I walk away.
“Don’t I always?”