Hi Everyone!
AP Studio Art is whopping my butt right now, so I finally managed to get this up for you guys.
I may be posting for my other stories hopefully sometime soon, keyword hopefully. maybe when I submit this stuff for AP I can work on my stories some more.
Hope you guys like it
Longboard917
Chapter 4: Pillow
What happened next felt like life hit the slow motion button.
Just as I heard the trigger begin to click, I was suddenly shoved aside; my body gaining fleeting glimpses of what was going on. A man in a hoodie was pummeling each man, sometimes two by two, as my eyes caught sight of him. The light gave a dingy tint to the man, and I could not tell whether it was Bucky or not. One thing was for sure though, this guy was not to be messed with.
The middle of my back collided with the corner of a nearby dumpster, sending a sharp pain through both sides of my spine. I cringed but refused to make a sound, fearing one of the men would hear me. I managed to get to my feet, albeit it was very flimsy, but I got on two legs nonetheless. At that point I heard screeching tires and the headlights that once blinded me now fled from the once battle scene. I peeked out of the corner of the alleyway and saw only one man- the man in the hoodie- was left standing.
He didn't seem to notice me, he was simply staring out at the roadway where the vehicle was driving off, and its tail lights showed it had no sign of stopping anytime soon. I looked down at myself for a moment, assessing the damage inflicted on my.
My knees were scraped badly, ripping numerous holes in my high socks. I was sure that I had a concussion after I placed my hand on the lump that had now formed. I was definitely never going to wear the dress again, it had been ripped at the hem and the waistline, and I was never good at sewing in the first place. I looked at my worn jacket, which pretty much looked the same, save the few blood stains it had recently acquired. With that I turned my attention back to the Good Samaritan who had rescued my.
"Excuse me," I said rather weakly, though I wasn't planning to. The man in the hoodie simply turned his head, not giving me a good look at his face.
"Uh- hi, um I would like to thank you for saving me back there- since I was kinda about to die for a minute," this was certainly not helping me at all.
Finally the man turned to face me, though keeping his hood upon his face.
"Are you hurt, ma'am," he asked.
"Ma'am, that's what my mother went by- I'm Sam, Sam I am," I addressed him. A small smile crept on the man's face, from what I could tell.
"So what did HYDRA want from you?" He asked, crossing his arms over his hoodied chest.
"HYDRA? I thought they were like WWII history class stuff, you know wiped out by Captain America and his Howling commandos, right?"
"Afraid not, they have been growing within SHIELD for decades," The man said with disappointment.
"So that's why Fury wanted me to lay low," I said aloud.
"Wait how do you know Fury? Who are you?" The man suddenly became intrigued by my comment.
"I told you- I'm Sam, Sam I am. And you haven't been very forward with your name either, Hoodie," I pointed at him accusingly. The man sighed before raising his hand to take his hood off.
"My name is Steven Rogers, or as everyone else knows me as Captain America."
I stood staring at the blonde super soldier like a complete idiot for what seemed to be an entire year.
"If my uncle were alive, he would faint," I stared with mouth agape. Captain Rogers simply chuckled at the statement.
"Believe me it doesn't happen as much as you think it does," He scratched the back of his head.
"One can only wonder why it doesn't."
"Funny, so how do you know Nick Fury again?"
"He's a family friend, kinda like a god parent type thing," I shrugged, the blonde haired man nodded.
"So he raised you?"
"Oh god no- he just took care of me after my uncle died a couple years ago. If that man raised me I wouldn't have needed you're help."
"Fair point."
Suddenly, we heard car tires screech to a halt from behind me, Captain Rogers became alarmed, as did I. The blonde man ushered me behind him and prepared for another round. I looked past him, only to see Mrs. Jensen's car parked poorly, with half of the vehicles tires upon the sidewalk. Both front doors opened wide, Mrs. Jensen emerged from the driver's side and Bucky on the left.
"Sam are you alright? Are you hurt-," Bucky practically sprinted but halted midsentence as he caught sight of the man in front me. He refrained from emerging from the shadows, alarming Steve.
"Hey, James," I waved awkwardly, trying to throw Steve off.
Silence.
"Samantha Coulson you have some explaining to do!" Mrs. Jensen marched over to me, assessing the damage upon my appearance. Steve's head whipped around to look at me with wide eyes, thankfully he said nothing.
"Well, I am very glad that I caught your roommate trying to steal me car, I would have called the cops if he hadn't told me that you was in trouble." I awkwardly pursed my lips as she scolded me.
"You tried to steal Mrs. Jensen's car," I snorted, leaning to look at my 'roommate' n the shadows.
"Come now, let's get you back home dearie," Mrs. Jensen ushered me toward her car. I felt like my knees were about to give out from under me, I could only guess it was the shock that prevented me from noticing it before.
"Here, out the lass in the car will you, please," Mrs. Jensen looked at Bucky. He gave a short nod and I felt his arms snake around my waist. For some odd reason; it was that moment my body decided to shutdown, causing me to flop onto Bucky's chest. Bucky, remaining silent as always, scooped me up into his arms. I felt a feeling of security wash over my senses as he carried me to the dented red vehicle of my 65 year old landlord. He gently set me onto my feet for a moment so he could open the door to the back seat.
"I'm not drunk you know, I could've walked on my own," I told him drearily, a yawn escaping my mouth as I spoke.
"No you couldn't," he said, void of any emotion as he sat me down in the back seat behind his.
"Yes I could."
"Now you sound like you're drunk."
"True, but I'm not."
"Alright you two, lets get you back home, shall we." Mrs. Jensen hopped into the driver's seat. Bucky sat in the front passenger seat as the 65 year old turned the engine over. With that she unceremoniously retreated from her poor parking and drove home. I swear about half way there I was going to puke, and it was not because of the concussion, but her driving. That woman needs some updates on laws on driving. Better yet, give her another exam and see just how horrible she would do.
What do you do at a red light? In Mrs. Jensen's opinion there is no such thing as a red light, everything is green.
I am hoping that this woman has gone color-blind in her later years.
What should have been a twenty minute drive turned into a seven minute drive, I was surprised that we weren't pulled over by any police.
"Alright, we're home sweet home, I'll unlock the door and get you some medical supplies to fix her up," I overheard the one ended conversation with Mrs. Jensen and my roommate. I removed my seatbelt drowsily and attempted to get out of the vehicle myself, only to have a wave of nausea hit me like a brick wall. Thankfully, Bucky caught sight of it and caught me before I hit the ground; once again scooping me up in his arms. I laid my head upon his shoulder as he walked up the front steps sideways so that the doorway would not hurt my legs.
Mrs. Jensen shut the door behind us, making sure to lock it. She then rushed up to my door and used her spare key to unlock it, opening it just as we approached. I was surprised that Bucky was not complaining, nor struggling to carry me, I was not just a twig-like model anyone could pick up on any given day.
"I left the first aid kit on the coffee table over there," Mrs. Jensen pointed out, the worry in her voice seemed to grow as Bucky walked past.
"Thank you," was all he said.
"I'll leave you two be for the night, but I'll be checking up on you in the morning." The elder woman said as she slowly shut the door.
I was set down on the couch before the coffee table, Milo instantly jumped up in my lap. I lazily pet the feline as Bucky pulled out almost all of the kits' contents. I set Milo aside and gingerly bent down to take my boots off, I was met with abdominal pain but I didn't care. I undid the laces and pulled the boots off with relative ease before moving to my socks. I rolled up the hem of the stretchy fabric and began to reveal my battered legs as the white socks came off. As my wrists were outstretched, a large hand suddenly grasped one of them.
I looked up to see Bucky staring at my pale wrists with the look of horror, or murder; I couldn't really tell.
"What happened to you," he asked flatly, and surprisingly calm.
"Uh, I was kinda sort of interrogated … forcefully," I pursed my lips.
"By who?" his eyes darkened.
I mumbled incoherently.
"Who was it Sam?" by the sound in his voice, Bucky's frustration was mounting.
"Promise me you won't freak out," I crossed my arms.
"Why?"
"Just promise me you will not freak out," I repeated, frustration mounting.
"Fine, I promise I won't freak out," Bucky sighed.
"Well, it was uh, it was HYDRA," I shut my eyes.
"What did they want from you?"
"Wait, you're not mad?"
"You told me not to freak out."
"Fair point."
"What did they want from you Sam?"
"I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know," he furrowed his eyebrows.
"Well they were talking about an Asset, I honestly had no idea what they were talking about," I shook my head. I looked back at Bucky to see his skin was far too pale for any normal human being. Sweat began to bead down upon his forehead, the grip on my wrist grew tighter, and more painful.
"Bucky are you okay?" I asked, subtly trying to pry out of his iron grip, which was not from his metallic hand. His eyes moving a mile a minute, yet he made no sound or attempt to move.
"Bucky?" I leaned closer, only to have him flinch at my sudden movement.
"I'm fine; just take your socks off okay," he shook himself out of his trance, turning around to the first aid kit. I sat puzzled for a moment before I actually began to strip my socks off of my battered legs. I removed my boots off and discarded my now bloody white socks into the brown boots. I looked over my many flesh wounds that marred my pale skin.
Bucky swiveled around on his knees back to me, a bottle and washcloth in his hands.
"This is going to sting a little," He looked at me whilst applying the liquids within the bottle onto the washcloth.
"Define a little," I deadpanned. He handed me a pillow.
"What's this for?"
"So you can scream into it."
I looked at him with caution before I actually took the decorative pillow that I bought but a few days ago at Pier One Imports.
"If I rip this to shreds; you are buying me a new one," I scrunched up into a ball, the pillow between my mouth and my thighs, and my lower legs facing Bucky. The brown haired man looked at me, as if asking for permission. I gave a single nod of the head before he placed the cloth upon my bare, battered leg.
I was met with the most excruciating pain I had felt the whole night. It was a burning sensation that I had never felt, for it was both hot and cold at the same time, but they were painful nonetheless. I was actually glad that Bucky gave me the pillow, because all one could do in the situation was scream at the top of your lungs.
Thirty painful minutes later.
Thirty long minutes that were full of nothing but pure and utter pain, in the most brutal way one could think of; Iodine. I have officially stated that I would rather die than have another drop of iodine on my skin or open wound ever again.
Bucky was now bandaging my legs, and my arms, basically mummifying me even though it was the middle of September. I still had a grip on my decorative pillow, which I was pretty sure if it were an actual person, would be dead.
"Why haven't you freaked out about what happened?" Bucky suddenly asked.
"What?"
"Why haven't you freaked out over what happened tonight?"
"Believe me I'm screaming on the inside," I scoffed.
"Still any normal person-,"
"I'm not normal Bucky. In case you haven't noticed I pretty much only have one friend that I actually talk to, my godfather is a freaking spy, and if I recall I have a piece of history with a bad case of PTSD living in my apartment without no one knowing about it," I snapped, not even in control of what came out of my mouth.
"Thanks for clearing that up for me," He said flatly, finishing up the final bandage. With that said he closed up the first aid kit and set beside the front door. Aussie followed him as if the pooch was a scolded child. Milo was already curled up in the reading chair.
"Bucky, I -,"
SLAM!
He didn't come out for two whole days. He didn't speak to me for an entire week. The only he did do around me was change the bandages on my wrist and legs then go back to sulk in his room. Mrs. Jensen clearly knew something was up, no matter how many times I told her he was simply sick. Thankfully she called my boss, stating what had occurred and that I would get paid leave. That was probably the only good thing that came out of the situation.
I never snapped like that before, not the extent of actually hurting someone. It felt, wrong. It felt like there was a part of my body that I had never noticed before, and it just made itself known. I held the pillow closer to my body, hoping it would take the pain I was feeling.
"Dammit Sam, it's not hard to apologize, you've done it before." I said to myself, slowly standing to my feet. My pillow was still against my chest for security purposes, mainly emotional.
I gingerly walked, (and by walked I mean lean against the wall so I wouldn't fall down), over to Bucky's room. As the door became larger and larger, I felt as if I was the one becoming smaller. I raised my hand to knock upon the white door, but I fell short. I barely had it in me to even hit the piece of wood.
"Bucky?" I said aloud, as if the door was the person I wanted to see.
"Bucky, please I know you're in there, apartment isn't that big you know," I said sarcastically.
I sighed.
"Bucky listen, I didn't mean to say those things."
"I doubt that," I heard muffled from behind the door.
"Stop that, you're gonna end up like me if you keep doing that. You are better than that."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You don't have to be like me, all alone and- well- alone mainly. Bucky you are better than that, you are better than practically 98% of the people on this fucking planet, you are the last person who deserves to be around me. I hardly deserve to look at you for Christ's sake."
Suddenly the phone rang. I slowly dragged myself over to where it sat upon its charger and picked the device up.
"Hello?"
"Hey kid," A familiar voice rang through the other end of the phone.
"Fury? I don't wanna know how you got my number?"
"Heard what happened, I thought I told you to lay low?"
"How the hell did you find out?"
"Stark."
"Stark? What is that Game of Thrones?"
"Iron man."
"Oh that Stark. Not much of a difference. Wait how did he know?"
"We need you to come to Avengers Tower, your friend is already there."
"Nat?"
"She was supposed to come back next week, but we changed her schedule, not that she complained."
"She begged to stay didn't she," I pet Milo as he walked along the countertop.
"You could say that."
"Listen, I can't come to New York Fury," I rubbed my forehead.
"Not an option."
"I thought you said everything has an option."
"Not unless I'm telling you."
"Well you aren't my dad, and I have stuff here I gotta take care of first."
"Really, like what?" he deadpanned across the line.
"Well, it's complicated."
"Boyfriend?"
"What, oh hell no, god knows I can barely manage having a boyfriend. It's just, my roommate-,"
"What roommate?"
"I have a roommate Nick, it's what normal people do when they can't pay rent."
"You could pay rent just fine before, and your fees haven't changed; so explain to me how exactly did you come across this roommate of yours."
"Would it appease you if I said it was none of your business?"
"Maybe not me, but the captain may have to have a few words with you."
"Captain?"
Just as fate would have it, a knock sounded at my door. Fury hung up the phone so I went to answer the piece of wood.
I opened the door only to find that my savior from the week before was waiting for me on the other side.
"Hello again." He said sheepishly.
"Uh hi," Aussie walked up from behind me and happily greeted the blonde man.
"So is this your roommate or," He asked openly as he petted the three legged shepherd.
"OH, no I have a roommate, who is here," I allowed the man to come inside.
Just as my door shut another opened, not to my room, or the refrigerator, but Bucky's.
"Will you excuse me for a moment," I feigned a smile as I slowly walked backwards, heading for the room of the piece of history that turned up a month ago.
I ran smack dab into an object. It didn't feel like a door. It was far too fleshy. I slowly turned around, praying in my mind it wasn't who I thought it was.
"Bucky?" Steve's voice echoed as I locked eyes with the man in question.
"Steve- I can explain," I turned back around to face the blonde haired man, but and arm protectively wrapped itself around my chest.
"Who are you and what are you doing here?" I looked above me to see the look of pure and utter murder in Bucky's eyes. I found then what clicked so long ago.
He didn't remember him.
And the story continues on a cliffhanger, or that I couldn't really think of a better ending.
Anyway, Read and Review
Sincerely Longboard917
AKA Katie