"Coffee Talk"
There's an unbelievably gorgeous woman in my kitchen, the Winter Soldier mused, hiding in the shadows of the hallway. His programming (brainwashing? Wasn't that really what it was, Buck? Who is Bucky again?)- no, his training- had prepared him for just such an eventuality. S.H.I.E.L.D. He'd recognize the hard-ass demeanor anywhere. Every instinct was yelling, shrieking, at him to just shoot this woman and be done with it, but instead he slowly sauntered into the kitchen.
"You're trespassing," the Winter Soldier smirked. "I've killed for far less."
"If you wanted me dead, I would be," she countered.
"True. You've been tailing me for weeks now."
"S.H.I.E.L.D. has an interest in you."
"S.H.I.E.L.D. is gone. Captain America sent you, didn't he?"
"So what if he did?"
The soldier collapsed into the chair opposite this too-composed blonde. He noticed her fingers flinching, her index finger tightening around the trigger of her weapon.
"I once punched a hole clean through a man's chest," he remarked, glancing to his bionic arm. "I would suggest dropping the gun," he added coldly. "Name?"
"Agent 13," she blinked.
Why the hell would he care?
"Captain America called me a name once."
"James Buchanan-"
He grabbed the nape Agent 13's neck and shoved her face into the tabletop.
"Who the hell are you?"
"Agent Sharon Carter…"
"Carter?"
"He talks about you all the time," Bucky called out to Peggy Carter, the woman of his best friend's affections.
"Does he," her lilting accent inquired from halfway down the bar counter.
"She's really something, Buck, a real good shot," he laughed.
"Oh."
Her expression crumbled.
"I'm kidding, lady. He's got the hots for ya, I say! I tell him, "You like this cookie, pipsqueak, ya oughta tell her before you ship out!"
"He… 'likes' me, Mr. Barnes?"
"Heck yeah, he does," Bucky chortled.
The soldier's eyes returned to focus as Sharon struggled to get free.
"Sharon Carter…"
"That's my name, don't wear it out. Now if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to be able to breathe more easily."
His grip loosened and she slid back against her own chair.
"Enough chit-chat, Sharon. Why are you here? You have one minute."
"Steve and I heard about your little trip through Pennsylvania last week."
"It was a food run."
"You castrated a guy for looking at you funny and then shot up a store because the manager thought you were high."
"It was Tuesday. I don't like Tuesdays. Still haven't answered my question. Ten seconds."
"We're trying to get you back, Barnes," she blurted.
He just stared at her, his dead eyes making her squirm. He loved watching targets squirm. They know they're about to due but not how or where their killer is. The sense of authority, the raw power, it gave him was awe-inspiring.
"Have you ever held a man's life in your hand, Sharon Carter?"
"Haven't had to."
"Awfully vague. I'm getting a very standoffish vibe."
"I'm on assignment. Small talk isn't my first priority, Barnes."
He slammed his hand of flesh on the table.
"Stop calling me that!"
His uninvited guest straightened, tensing, fearful.
"Do you really think you can take me in," he challenged. He smiled then, and almost immediately his face went slack again.
Winter Soldier doesn't smile, he doesn't do small talk. He gets orders, and he follows them until the objective is attained. But this isn't a mission, is it? This is a pretty girl who seems very damaged wanting to help you. Help you remember who you are? But why does that matter? Whoever the hell is Bucky guy is, he's immaterial. But Bucky is me! I'm Bucky! No, I'm the Winter Soldier…
Perhaps I am both.
"I can try," she accepted.
"You have one week to convince me that with you and the Star-Spangled Idealist is where I belong. After that, you're dead."
"Deal, Barnes. You got yourself a deal."