So just trying this out everyone! The idea popped into my head last night; we'll see where it goes. Please tell me if you like it!
Prologue
The streets of Bucharest were bustling already that morning, though it was still early. Street vendors peddled their wares - fruits, vegetables, newspapers - to locals and tourists alike. Laughter filled the air and I fought a grin, weaving my way through the narrow roads and throngs of people.
Some of them acknowledged my presence with a smile and a coo; others simply sneered and leapt away in disgust.
To those, I simply huffed and trotted along on my way, shaking my head roughly and lifting my nose to the breeze.
Though the dozens of bodies moving about weren't the freshest, I ignored their scents and sought out the more appealing ones. Fresh bread, wheels of cheese, plums.
My mouth watered and stomach rumbled; without another thought, I made my way for Constantine's stand. Though I hadn't been in Romania for very long, he had become my one constant in the busy capital. He knew I didn't have much in the way of means and wasn't above tossing me a few bites when I paid him a visit, free of charge.
He said it was because I was too damn cute, gave him the most adorable puppy-dog gaze; he simply couldn't resist.
And I wasn't above accepting free food.
A girl had to eat, after all.
So I worked my way over to his stand, taking a seat on the sidewalk and staring silently up at him. His stand was crowded today; people perusing, haggling, huffing when he refused to give in and beaming when he ultimately caved.
He always caved.
I waited patiently for him to notice me; when there was a break in the crowd, his gaze flitted over the bazaar. Those beady blue eyes flicked over me momentarily, before darting back and widening, "Frumuseţe!"
Immediately, I stood, greeting him warmly.
"I've been wondering where you've been!" he exclaimed, leaning over the splintered countertop, a hand outstretched. I accepted it, snorting when he pressed his lips to it. "It's been days, frumuseţe. I thought something might've happened to you. I am glad to see you're well."
He needn't have worried, though; I had made my way to the neighboring country of Serbia, though I didn't tell him that. He wouldn't understand, let alone believe me if he could.
Instead, I simply nodded once, glancing imploringly at the mound of loaves behind him, nose wiggling wildly.
He laughed, shaking his head, and queried warmly, "You hungry? Of course you are. You look half-starved."
Half-affronted, I huffed and waited silently for him to retrieve my meal. While his back was turned, a man approached the counter, dressed in a baseball cap, black gloves, and a pair of sunglasses. He waited patiently for Constantine to notice him, not mentioning the ramblings he sent my way.
The man glanced down at me, his gaze hidden behind his aviators, and stared for a moment before returning his attention to the vendor.
Tipping my head to one side, my eyes narrowed as I gazed up at him. He looked familiar. Very familiar. The hair, the Roman nose, the strong jaw, though it was plastered in a thick coat of stubble… if he removed the sunglasses, I was certain there would be a pair of bright blue eyes staring back.
Freezing, I felt my mouth go dry, my muscles tensing, adrenaline flooding my body.
The Winter Soldier.
James Buchanan Barnes.
Bucky.
I didn't know him personally; I had never met the man before in my life - thank God for that, but after the Black Widow had released all of SHIELD's and HYDRA's files, everyone knew his name and most knew his face.
I couldn't believe he was out in public; though he was far removed from the United States, where he was most assuredly a wanted man, there were those still searching for him across the globe.
Myself included.
Forcing myself to relax, I attempted to focus on Constantine and his unending mutterings as he fixed my meal. Still, my gaze constantly flitted to the poorly disguised assassin, though he didn't seem to notice. He stood, stiff and silent, his jaw working occasionally as he waited for the vendor to notice him. He peered over his shoulder every now and then, though it wasn't obvious to anyone but me that he was searching the crowds for former SHIELD agents, CIA, FBI, Interpol… anyone who meant to take him down.
Fortunately, he didn't pay any heed to the one standing directly beside him.
"Here you- oh! Iartă-mă!" Constantine's thin, pale face contorted in embarrassment, "I didn't know you were there. Iartă-mă."
Barnes waved him off with his left hand. His metal hand. Immediately, I stiffened, though neither seemed to notice and cursed myself. I didn't need to draw any unwarranted attention to myself; let him think I wasn't a threat and maybe I could catch him off guard. Bring down one of the most wanted criminals in the world.
He responded in fluent Romanian, though I wasn't entirely surprised. From what I had learned of him, he was a master of languages; HYDRA had worked its way into dozens of countries and needed a soldier with the ability to infiltrate any of them with ease. His tone was low, quiet and smooth, as to keep from drawing attention to himself.
"My little frumuseţe, she comes by all the time," Constantine explained with a sheepish smile, leaning over the countertop and tossing me half a loaf of bread stuffed with cheeses and smoked meats, "who can resist a face like that? Tell me!"
"No one," Barnes conceded, the corner of his mouth twitching in the briefest of smiles before noting hesitantly, "I - she reminds me…"
He fell silent, staring down at me; even through his black lenses, I could feel the intensity of his gaze. Fidgeting nervously, I remained mute, until he turned his back to me and asked Constantine about the plums.
Though I had no appetite now, I ate what the vendor had given me, forcing it down my tightened throat as they haggled over the price.
I couldn't help but stare at the perplexing scene before me.
There he was, the Winter Soldier, notorious assassin and spy, bartering over the price of plums with a street vendor in Romania. Whenever Constantine denied him, he didn't grow more agitated; in fact, the silver-haired man's feeble attempts at fending off any lower prices amused him.
If Nick Fury had any idea he was here…
Finishing up my meal, I caught Constantine's attention, dipping my head in thanks. He simply smiled and welcomed me back with a wink, returning to his half-hearted argument with Barnes. The soldier never paid me another moment's attention.
Slipping through the crowd, I never once removed my gaze from him. I couldn't lose sight of him, not now that I had found him. My heart thudded in my chest at the amount of people I had to move through to keep him in sight. There were too many potential victims here; if he turned on them, any of them, they would never stand a chance.
But that didn't seem to be his aim.
He wanted plums.
Nothing more, nothing less.
Though the logical part of my mind argued that he was no doubt planning something, scheming something, Steve Rogers' words echoed through my mind. Barnes had rescued him from the river. Saved his life. He could have - should have - left him to die, but he didn't.
Though it wasn't a lot to go on, it had convinced the captain that there was some good left in him.
Damn him for giving me reason to pause. I should've returned home, contacted Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Sharon Carter… have them swoop in, help me take him down as backup would most assuredly be needed. Perhaps I'd get my name in the papers for leading the takedown.
But if Steve was right…
Fuck.
There was enough doubt stirring in my gut that I couldn't bring myself to turn him in just yet. If he ran, if I lost him, it was almost certain that Fury would skin me alive and hang my pelt over his mantle and yet-
He moved away from Constantine's stand and made his way swiftly, fluidly, through the crowd. I almost lost him a time or two and it was only my keen sense of smell that kept me on track. He smelled of fresh, clean soap, a hint of his own natural musk, and plums. It was a surprisingly pleasing smell and it wasn't difficult to keep track of.
Haunting his steps, I moved just as silently, a shadow amongst a throng of tourists. I followed, unseen, unnoticed, for no more than a minute before his shoulders tensed and his footfalls faltered. He tossed a suspicious glance over his shoulder, seeking, searching for something.
For me.
I paused, forcing those milling about the marketplace to swerve around me. The disruption in traffic caught his attention and his gaze fell on me. I didn't move, didn't breathe, didn't blink, until his shoulders uncoiled and he gave his head a miniscule shake.
He rolled his shoulders and continued on his way. Only then did I move, continuing after him in trepidation, wondering how in the hell this was a good idea. Though he obviously didn't see me as a threat, once he realized I was one, he wouldn't hesitate to turn on me.
The thought of a showdown with the Winter Soldier was enough to force me to consider tucking tail and running.
He hesitated a time or two again, shooting me an exasperated glance, until he turned down a narrow alleyway and stopped. Spinning on a heel, he ripped off his sunglasses, scowling furiously at me as I lingered at the edge of the market, shifting anxiously from foot to foot.
"Go home!" he growled, waving his gloved, metal hand.
I flinched but remained steadfast, licking my lips and shaking my head.
He stalked forward and it took every bit of willpower in my tiny body to keep from cowering, to keep from running.
Crouching low to the ground, he sneered, "Go. Home. Leave me alone. Go back to that vendor; pester him."
I refused.
Ripping off his cap, he raked a hand through his thick, chocolate locks in frustration, turning away with a growl. Lip curling, he returned those icy blue eyes to me and I flinched. Something flashed in them at my move, something akin to regret, and he dropped his head, forearms resting on his thighs.
"Go away."
It was almost desperate, his plea, but I simply whined, inching closer to him, and nudging his hand with my nose.
His fingers twitched and I nearly pissed myself, but instead of forming a fist, they reached out hesitantly, over my muzzle and into the shaggy fur atop my head Almost confused, he scratched behind my ear, as though he knew this was how you pet a dog, but he wasn't sure that he had done it before.
His lips flitted into a fleeting grin, contentment flashing briefly in his azure eyes; his tone was much softer as he chided, "I can't take care of a dog, frumuseţe. I can barely take care of myself. You should go home."
Standing, he patted my head once more and turned, slipping down the alley like the shadow he was.
Not a second passed before I continued my pursuit, hoping to at least catch of glimpse of his hideaway before he sent me away for good. My heart clenched as I trailed after him; though I couldn't say he didn't scare the shit out of me, I couldn't help but feel some sense of sympathy toward the guy. If the captain was right - and I was beginning to see just that he most certainly could be - and Barnes truly had no memory of his life before HYDRA, that he had simply been an unwilling pawn…
I hadn't realized that the soldier had stopped until I bumped into his shins, stumbling back in confusion and surprise.
He was staring down at me, a small frown tugging at his thin, pink lips. He said nothing for a moment, until he crouched down to my level once more, "Listen, the place I'm in doesn't really let people have… pets. If I let you in, you gotta be quiet. No barking. You housetrained?"
Huffing in disgust, I earned a small, snorting laugh from the soldier.
"I'm talking to a dog," he threw his head back to the sky, exhaling heavily, "maybe I am crazy." He rolled his shoulders once more and quirked a brow at me, "Alright. Let's go. But if you get me kicked out, you're gone. This is the first real place I've had in months. Only place I could call home in… forever."
He stood and I wagged my tail fervently, falling into step beside him as he drifted silently into his mind.
I was going home with the Winter Soldier.
Fuck me, this might've been my worst idea yet.