Back again! Thanks to everyone who reviewed and favorited! So, someone mentioned that this would be a good Bucky/OC story because Steve hasn't exactly been introduced yet, but there is a reason for that, I promise. This chapter is from Cap's POV, so yeah. I might update a little sooner in here, I have the next couple chapters planned out, so stay tuned.
Enjoy!
Sweat matted his hair, the heat sticking his pale grey work out tee shirt to the small of his back. Groaning, Steve manipulated his body at the same time as Natasha, mirroring her motions as slowly as possible. Arms over his head, he brought his hands together before winging them out and dipping forward to press his palms into the floor, the motions pulling at the wounds to his abdomen and sending spikes of pain down his legs even as he stepped back into a low lunge. Soft music played in the background, a medley of Russian ballet music that his partner had put together to introduce to him. He would give anything for the smooth melody of jazz to slide from the speakers but knew better than to ask Natasha about it. One wrong move and she'd banish him from the gym all together, which was technically what his orders were anyway.
Since the debacle that was their last mission, Steve had been ordered out of the gymnasium and any other training exercises that were brought up while he was healing from the bullet wounds. He was supposed to be on recovery for another two days, but the silence in his apartment was driving him absolutely insane. Too much time in his own head wasn't good for him. It allowed memories he didn't want to think about to slip into his mind and fester like open wounds, drawing him into a spiral of self-loathing.
Taking deep breaths, Steve slid back into a plank position, tightening all the muscles in his body to hold it perfectly. A glistening sheen of sweat covered Natasha as well, her red hair pulled back into a braid that kept the strands out of her face. Her green eyes flicked around the room at proper intervals, checking to make sure no one was watching them as they worked out. Steve wasn't worried about enemies in the Tower at the moment, but he could agree that her paranoia was well warranted. They'd been attack at the Tower more often than not and it wasn't exactly the safest place so long as Stark was in attendance. Everyone had been on guard since the incident with Ultron, when they found out that Stark wasn't the best man to trust with unlimited technology. The team kept up a regular attendance around the place to keep the scientists in line and make sure another world threatening mistake wasn't in the making.
Rolling his body back into the downward dog, Steve tilted his head to watch Natasha and see what she was going to do next, keeping his breathing even and strong. Pain rippled through his clenched muscles and he knew he'd regret allowing her to train with him later, but it was enough just to have someone in the same room for a little while. He'd gotten used to having Bucky in his apartment, but the man had taken to disappearing at regular intervals and reappearing at random times with no good explanation as to why he'd suddenly left. Since Bucky had left about two hours ago, Steve had been on his own until he'd finally decided to throw caution to the wind and go train in the gym. He had no idea when the other man would be back and figured he could work out and get back before Bucky even realized he was missing. As much as the other man was having trouble adjusting to his memories, he was just as obsessive about Steve's health as he was before the serum and would shit a brick if he found out that Steve was actively ignoring the doctor's orders.
Natasha had caught him before he could start in on the reinforced punching bags that lined the far wall and given him two options to choose from. Either he worked with her through yoga or she would send Seraphim a warning that he was working out when he wasn't supposed to be, a well thought out threat indeed. Instead of risking the wrath of his communication's specialist and possibly losing all access to the gym, Steve had accepted her invitation to stretch. It was better than being locked away in his apartment or getting his clearance wiped so that he was only allowed in the kitchens and his apartment. He could personally attest to how much such restrictions sucked.
"Getting tired, Rogers?" Natasha's voice caught his attention and Steve quickly pushed into a lunge, straightening his shoulders and upper back to turn towards the red head. He'd missed her movements and lagged behind, something he couldn't let happen again if he wanted to continue. If she thought he was too weak, she had no trouble sending him back to his floor to rest. And then he wouldn't be able to sneak back out.
"Are you?" Steve shot back, relieved when a smirk quirked the corner of her mouth. So long as she was in a good mood, he was safe.
"You know, day dreaming about Seraphim isn't going to get you anywhere. Why don't you ask that girl from Pepper's office out? What was her name again, the one we were introduced to at the Christmas party?" Natasha offered, the relief of her smile falling from Steve's mind in the face of her relentless teasing. Of course she'd start in on setting him up with another date as soon as he started ignoring her. Obviously, the debacle with Sharon hadn't taught her anything about his track record with relationships.
He was starting to think that he wasn't meant to date or get serious with a woman. The women he dated either grew old while he was sleeping or decided to use him as a wealth of information for another government agency. Either way, his relationships were doomed before they started. Natasha should recognize a pattern when she saw one, especially when it came from him. Their jobs didn't leave much time for finding someone who wanted to go steady. She knew that just as well as he did, even if it didn't seem to bother her. She was very good at hiding her true emotions under snide comments and deceptively charming changes in subject.
"Romanoff, you're a pain in the ass." Steve informed the woman seriously, stretching his arms out and pulling his chest up further to get a better stretch. Straightening both legs, they wind milled down in one smooth motion before stepping back into another plank.
"Who taught you that language? How very ungentlemanly, Steven." Natasha teased. He wondered briefly what had her in such a good mood, thinking back over the last week to figure out if she'd said anything worthwhile. Natasha said a lot of nothing and tended to turn conversations back on him whenever he went digging into her personal life. It made getting to know her impossible and kept her from getting hurt, which was basically her goal in life. Switching to the other side so that he wasn't facing her anymore, Steve repeated the process of the lunge, straightening up and stretching his arms.
"Why do you insist on finding me a date, Natasha?" Steve shot back, curious. She'd been like that since he'd met her, so it wasn't like her nosiness was a surprise. Natasha was a lot of things and a master spy was one of them. She knew more about his life than he did, sad as that was. Before they'd gone on their first mission together, she'd admitted to looking him up. Of course, most of the facts that were presented in museum exhibits and on the pages of history were mixed up and useless, but they told a familiar story. One that centered around his life as a national icon and a soldier, never really mentioning much about the man he'd been before the serum. Everything that mattered to the historians came from a syringe.
"Come on, you deserve to be happy just as much as the next guy. As much as I enjoy teasing you, I do believe that you deserve to find someone who can love you, fossil and all." Natasha informed him. She kept her voice relatively even as Steve snorted, knowing there was more to the story than her terrible puns. "Besides, you can't let what happened with Sharon ruin your chances at happiness. She was one woman. If you could get the guts to ask a girl out, we could double. There's a waitress down the street that I could call."
"Sharon is the tip of the iceberg and you know it. Besides, most people aren't really interested in me. It's the suit they want." Steve reminded her, fighting back a wave of annoyance. The suit was what was recognizable and what made him special. He'd walked through the Smithsonian Museum exhibit on his life and the life of his best friends enough times to know that most people didn't even bother to look at him. They didn't care about Steve Rogers or Bucky Barnes or even Dum Dum Dugan. They cared about Captain America and The Winter Soldier and The Howling Commandos. They cared about the symbolism, not the people behind it.
"You think Seraphim is interested in the real you?" Natasha asked in a mocking voice.
"Would you stop making it sound like I want to meet her just to sleep with her?" Steve requested for the hundredth time. Over the last few days, Natasha had been bugging him about his motives for wanting to meet the other woman and he was about done with her prying. She knew all the reasons he wanted to meet his communication's specialist, knew why he wanted to thank her. Seraphim had gotten him through some pretty rough times in his life and she deserved his gratitude. It had nothing to do with his small crush on the woman and everything to do with the fact that he wanted to meet the woman he trusted with his life. "You know it's more than that."
"So you're interested in the real Seraphim?" That was a new question and Steve pushed out of the lunge, turning to stand and face Natasha full on. If she was going to ask serious questions, he wanted to be able to see her face when he gave her serious answers. He couldn't read her like he could most people, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that she would be reading him.
"What are you talking about?"
"You're so worried about people only liking you because you're Captain America. But Seraphim is just a codename, a handle. What if Seraphim is a forty two year old African American woman? What if she's a seventy year old grandmother of three? What if she's nineteen years old, straight from training? What if she isn't the person you're looking for? What if she doesn't live up to your expectations? What if she isn't the miracle woman you want?" Natasha demanded, standing up to face off with him. He was surprised by the glint in her eyes, almost feverish. Like she really cared about how he answered. Like she was emotionally invested in the conversation, something he'd rarely ever seen before.
"It doesn't matter what she looks like. I owe her." Steve reminded Natasha, curious and concerned all at once. He honestly didn't care what the woman looked like. He knew that she was probably nothing like he imagined and that was fine. He liked Seraphim because of who she was to him, not because of what she looked like or anything so completely superficial. He wanted to get to know her, even just as a friend. Anything to give him some idea as to who the woman he trusted with his life really was. And if he got to thank her for what she'd done for him, he could die a happy man.
Natasha snorted at his answer, stalking away to grab her towel off of the bench in the corner and wipe at the sweat on her brow. Steve followed behind her slowly, unsure what had just happened or why he felt like he'd given the wrong answer to a test question.
"Owing someone and actually liking them are two very different things. Go find someone else to put your dreams on, Rogers. Seraphim doesn't need your expectations or your thanks. She knows she's valuable." Natasha spun to face him and Steve was taken aback by the violence flashing behind her eyes. He'd seen her angry before, furious, but this was different. It was the same way she got when someone threatened Barton, the same look as the one she'd given Loki. Like he was the enemy. It was… protective.
"You've met her." It slapped him in the face so suddenly he almost reeled back at the impact. Natasha had met Seraphim, the girl behind the voice in the coms. She'd gotten to meet her before Steve had. For some reason, Steve had to keep in a wince at the knowledge, his chest tightening. Seraphim had been his coms first and Natasha was the one she'd chosen to meet with. Given that the red head had given her a choice, which was fairly unlikely in the scheme of things. But that didn't matter. It still hurt him that Natasha was throwing it in his face, threatening him and acting like he didn't care about the other woman. If anything, he counted Seraphim as a close friend, a confidante. She knew more about him than almost anyone else and he trusted her because of it.
"Doesn't matter. You think she keeps denying you because she only cares about Captain America? Get your head out of your ass and think for a minute. Who's the one that pulls you out of every rough spot, who reminds you that you're strong enough to take care of yourself? You think after five years she puts up with your dumb ass just because you're codename is famous? Give the girl more credit than that." Natasha ordered, a snarl on her lips.
"I never said that's what I thought of her." Steve fought back, ignoring the hurt that was flooding him.
"That's what you think all women want, isn't it? Well, get over it." He flinched a little when Natasha threw her towel on the floor and started stalking out of the gym, silent steps leaving him behind. "You ever think that maybe she's afraid of the exact same things that you are?"
The silence she left him in was more telling than any words she could say and Steve stalked over to the line of punching bags, throwing a fist into the first one in line with enough force to send it flying off of the reinforced hinge and into the wall, where it broke apart and splattered sand across the floor.