The airport hummed with noise as restless passengers rushed to and fro. Chanel, Sam, and Bucky were seated at a bar near their gate. The sound of children wailing, drunk passengers arguing with airline representatives, and the chirpy laughter of 20-something's en route to adventure resounded in Chanel's ears. The rhythmic throbbing in her temples steadily increased in intensity as her eyes swept the drab airport. At the sight of a hyperactive high school cheer team heading to her gate, Chanel let out a long groan.
"Sam, tell me again, why are we flying out of Reagan? And why in God's name are we flying coach?" Chanel looked at the boarding pass in her hand with her lips pursed.
"We're not on the books for this one, Chanel. Are you going to pay for it?" He challenged. His eyes were focused on their gate in the distance, annoyed that Chanel had insisted on leaving the prime seats he had snagged next to the boarding line.
"Pay? No, but let me see what I can do. Wait here." Chanel swiped their boarding passes and jumped off her barstool.
Bucky watched her closely as she quickly fluffed her hair, pulled the hem of her shirt down a little lower, and with a satisfied smile, turned and stalked back to the customer service desk.
Bucky looked to Sam for an explanation.
"Just watch," Sam said with a smirk and a shake of his head.
As Chanel approached the customer service desk, she appraised the mousy young man behind the counter. Uncomfortable making eye contact. Fidgeting. Clear deer in headlights look. I almost feel bad. Almost. She leaned over the counter, more than was necessary, and offered him a bright smile.
Sam chuckled at the dumbstruck expression on the agent's face as he ogled Chanel.
Not amused, Bucky shot Sam a side-eye glare as he crossed his arms over his chest. He pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek as he watched Chanel place her hand on the man's arm and throw her head back in exaggerated laughter at something he had said. And now she's touching him...that's just great.
The sharp exhale he didn't know he was waiting for relaxed him as she finally turned around and walked back towards them.
"First class gentleman." Chanel waved the boarding passes in the air. "You're welcome." She smiled proudly as she handed them their upgraded tickets.
"Nice work! The poor guy didn't stand a chance." Sam looked down at her cleavage and mimicked the dumbfounded expression the customer service agent had.
Chanel gave a half-suppressed laugh and hit Sam's arm. "Always play to your advantages," She winked at him and pulled her shirt back up. She turned to Bucky, waiting for his response.
"Yeah, uh, thanks. You didn't have to do that, though."
Chanel's mouth pulled down in a slight frown. What's his deal? What's wrong with first class?
Bucky noticed the change of expression. Shit, what did I say to upset her?
A muffled announcement caught Sam's attention. "Did they just call our flight? Come on, we've got to go."
Sam grabbed his and Chanel's luggage and sped off towards the gate.
"He's a stickler about punctuality…." Chanel began.
"...there's no such thing as on time, you're either early, or you're late." Bucky finished with an amused smile playing at the corner of his lips.
"Exactly!" Chanel returned his slight smile.
They laughed together, poking fun at Sam as they slowly followed behind him. With Sam distracted, Chanel knew this was a perfect chance to make some progress on her side mission. She moved closer to Bucky until her arm grazed against his.
"You look so handsome when you smile."
She looked up at him from under her eyelashes. He blushes so easily; it's kind of cute.
Be cool, man. Be cool. Bucky met her eyes and flashed her a broad smile, "thanks, it's nice to have a reason to smile."
Chanel retained eye contact, her lips curling into a small smile. She placed her hand on his arm, "I wonder what other expressions I could coax out of that handsome face."
Bucky stuttered, his mouth moving with no coherent words coming out.
"Guys! Seriously, hurry up; we are boarding any second now!" Sam yelled from his place in the boarding line.
Thank God, Bucky thought, glad for the interruption.
Chanel laughed to herself at Bucky's flustered face as he walked a little faster towards Sam.
Chanel sunk into the soft leather first-class seat next to Sam; Bucky sat on her right, across the aisle. It was going to be a long flight, and she had taken the opportunity to change into a pair of black sweats and a black cropped tank top as soon as the pilot had turned the seat belt sign off.
Sam and Chanel chatted boisterously for hours until most of the other passengers had turned their lights and electronics off. Chanel was afraid to sleep, she tried to fight her slipping eyelids, but soon she had fallen into a fitful sleep on Sam's shoulder.
Bucky didn't want to sleep either. His copy of Invisible Man, laid open in his lap. He had been attempting to read, but found it difficult to ignore Sam and Chanel and how easily they talked for hours. It made his stomach twist in jealousy and longing.
He watched her from the corner of his eye as she slept. He recognized the rapid eye movements under her eyelids. Bad dream. I wonder what she dreams about…." His thoughts were interrupted when Chanel suddenly sat up with a loud gasp, her eyes darting wildly, trying to place where she was.
Sam quickly wrapped an arm around her shoulders and grabbed her hand. "Shhh, you're okay honey, you're with me, on the plane, remember? It was just a dream."
He didn't let go until her breathing had slowed, and she nodded her head in understanding. He kissed her forehead, and she sat back in her seat, embarrassed. Well, that was a new one...as if it wasn't bad enough that Henri's face started appearing alongside Nat, now I see Cameron again too?! At least I managed not to scream, thank God.
"Thanks, Sam. I'm sorry if I woke you up; you should try and get some sleep." She chewed her cheek, feeling guilty for keeping Sam awake.
"Nah, I'm okay. Let's watch a movie; maybe that will relax you."
Chanel nodded her head in agreement, and Sam put on the first movie on the list.
Bucky watched the exchange curiously, I wonder if this has anything to do with what happened in the car.
Sam quickly dozed off, snoring softly with his head against the window. Chanel smiled at him and turned the tv screen off. He never could make it through a whole movie. She stifled a yawn as she reached into her tote bag and pulled out Zemo's files, intent on keeping herself awake for the rest of the flight.
Bucky rolled his eyes in exasperation. She's killing me with these damn files. Maybe I should tell her the actual plan...she'd probably tell Sam, though. I can't risk it.
Chanel could feel Bucky's eyes on her. She looked at him from the corner of her eye and caught his gaze. He didn't look away, so she turned her head towards him, "what's up, Bucky?"
"You should really get some sleep; it's late. Don't you think you've studied those files enough?"
"Probably, but I don't want to sleep." She shrugged nonchalantly.
"Because of the nightmares?"
Chanel looked away from him, embarrassed. Shit, he noticed that? Of course he did; he doesn't miss anything.
"You saw that, huh? I thought I was doing good by not screaming."
"I noticed your eyes moving as you slept. Telltale sign."
Chanel met his gaze again, his attention to her, making her falter for a second.
"Hmmm, well, you should be sleeping too, so what's your excuse? Super soldiers don't sleep?"
Bucky chuckled and leaned closer to her. Her body responded automatically, and she leaned closer to him as if they were linked together.
"Well, we can stay up all night, no problem." He paused, enjoying the playful twinkle that returned to her eyes. "But, I also don't want to sleep" he shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, mimicking her earlier movements.
I guess I'm not the only one with horrors playing on repeat in my head, Chanel thought. She was somewhat comforted by this knowledge but didn't want to find herself in a heart-to-heart conversation.
"So, I don't want to sleep. You don't want to sleep. What should we do with our time?" She coyly tilted her head to the side.
"21 Questions?"
Chanel cocked an eyebrow in surprise; a game was not exactly what she had in mind. Especially one designed to get to know someone.
"Hmm, okay, but only if we drink. Something strong." Chanel pushed the flight attendant button.
Bucky smirked, "Sure, okay. Drink if you think the other person is lying."
Chanel narrowed her eyes, "Are you trying to test my interrogation skills, Barnes?"
The flight attendant appeared, and Chanel grabbed a handful of mini bottles.
Bucky shrugged, "I'm not worried about that; you were trained by the best. I just want to get to know you..you know, since we're working together."
Chanel grit her teeth when he alluded to Natasha. Stay calm. Of course, he just wants to talk...hopefully, the liquor will help loosen him up a little bit before the questions get too personal. She cracked open a mini bottle of Grey Goose and downed half of it quickly. She handed the half-empty bottle to Bucky, "Pregaming is an important part of any drinking game."
Bucky smiled and downed the rest of the bottle, "Okay, first question, I'll start easy. Why did you join the airforce?"
Shit, too personal already. Chanel floundered for a moment. The image of Cameron, blood gushing from his head, his body, forever still, slumped in the passenger seat of her car, intruding her thoughts. She blinked rapidly, trying to remove the images before answering, "I was 18. Sam was going, and I thought I was doing something honorable."
Bucky studied her face for a moment before opening another mini bottle and downing half of it quickly. Chanel watched him, her jaw slightly open in surprise and amusement.
"Half a drink for a half-truth." Bucky waited for her to challenge him or expand her explanation, but Chanel just crossed her arms stubbornly.
"Okay, my turn, an easy one," she said sarcastically, "what has your dating life been like since you got your brain back?"
"Honestly, fairly nonexistent. There was the whole Thanos thing, you know, and then I was gone for 5 years…" Bucky looked over at Chanel. She raised an eyebrow telling him his answer was not satisfactory. "I tried the whole online dating thing; it's pretty crazy. A lot of weird pictures."
His response earned him a smile, and Chanel opened her mouth to ask another question.
Bucky stopped her before she got a word out, "No follow-up questions, my turn."
"Fine, but I'm drinking even though you didn't lie." Chanel downed another half a bottle of vodka.
"Same question, what has your dating life been like since half the population came back?" Bucky twirled the half-empty bottle of vodka in his hand tauntingly.
"Oh, I thought it was obvious, Sam and I are together. We have been for a while now." Chanel tried to keep her face serious; she tilted her head in Sam's direction and ever so slightly chewed on her cheek.
Bucky narrowed his eyes, "Are you trying to get me drunk, Chanel?" He downed what was left in the vodka bottle.
Chanel shrugged her shoulders with a smirk, "Maybe. You didn't believe me for even a second?"
"You chew on your cheek when something is bothering you," Bucky said matter of factly.
A flutter of delight passed through Chanel. She liked being under his watchful gaze. She liked that he noticed these details about her in such a short amount of time.
That was the exact feeling she had always tried to avoid, and she didn't want to feel that way now, so she stuffed it down and pressed on with the game.
"So, no dating, but surely men and women are lining up to get a piece of this," she dramatically raked her eyes over his body from head to toe, "so what's your best hookup story?"
Bucky hesitated, started to answer a few times but eventually said with a laugh, "can I just drink to avoid answering the question?"
Chanel rolled her eyes, disappointed, "Fine, Mr. 1940s, but you have to drink a whole bottle, and I'm drinking too since I was denied what was surely a juicy story."
Bucky smirked, "Sorry doll, some things have to stay private." He downed the mini bottle of vodka swiftly.
Doll? He really is from the 40s. It's kinda cute, though. Chanel smiled as she downed her vodka.
They went back and forth, Bucky asking prying questions, Chanel lying. Chanel asking frivolous questions, still hoping Bucky would get the hint to keep it light. Despite their growing exhaustion due to the late hour, neither noticed when they had surpassed the previously established limit of 21 questions.
"Were you close with your parents?" Bucky asked.
Jesus Christ, how is he not getting the hint by now?! Chanel closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, her head starting to hurt from the vodka. "Bucky, how are you not drunk yet? The whole idea was to make you drink so that you would loosen up and ask more light-hearted questions."
"Doll," He waited for Chanel to open her eyes and look at him, "I can't get drunk, you know, on account of the serum."
His laughter irritated Chanel even more than his confession, "You've got to be kidding," Chanel sat back in her chair defeated, her arms crossed and jaw tight. How did Sam never mention this?!
He was still smiling broadly, "Oh come on, I just didn't want to ruin the game for you." When she met his eyes again, he continued, "And the point of the game is to get to know you."
Chanel huffed but leaned forward towards him again, "Okay, Barnes, you wanna get deep? What are your nightmares about?"
"You have to answer my question first. Your parents? And no more lying on purpose."
Chanel took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and rushed through her words, "I didn't know my parents. I grew up in foster homes until I went to the air force."
She kept her eyes closed, afraid to see the familiar pity in his eyes. What am I doing? I don't talk about this stuff for a reason, much less to a man I barely know and...Her thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of a heavy hand on top of hers. She opened her eyes and saw Bucky's leather-clad hand gently resting on her hand. The look on his face radiated understanding and comfort, not the pity she had feared.
"That must have been really difficult." He said softly as he gently squeezed her hand.
The rush of comfort she felt made her want to tell him more. That scared the hell out of her.
She pulled her hand back quickly, "your turn. What are your nightmares about?"
Bucky sat back in his seat and tilted his head back, his eyes trained on the ceiling of the plane, "I never told you I have nightmares."
"Not in so many words, but you're not the only professional lie detector on this plane."
Bucky continued to stare at the ceiling of the plane. He didn't know how much to tell her. If his brain hadn't been clouded with exhaustion, he probably would have lied. Instead, his words tumbled out quietly, "I remember everything I did as the Winter Soldier. I have nightmares about the things I did. It feels so real, like I'm still him."
He waited anxiously for her response; he still wasn't sure how much she actually knew about his past. He was sure the more she learned, the more likely she would be to keep her distance. When she didn't respond, he finally chanced a glance at her face.
She looked deep in thought, chewing on her cheek again, what is she thinking? Should I have lied?
Chanel didn't know how to respond. Her thoughts had circled back to feeling guilty for not handling her own problems when everyone else was facing worse than she was.
"What are you thinking, Chanel?"
Chanel opened her mouth, a lie ready on her tongue, but she stopped herself when she saw the anxiety in his eyes. Does he really think that I, of all people, am going to judge him?
"I was just thinking about how tough that must be. I can't even imagine it. I mean, some things from my missions haunt me when I close my eyes," Henri's face popped in her head, and she looked down at her hands, "but I can't imagine dealing with it on a scale that large." She looked back up at his face. The way his eyes bore into her like she was the only person in the world made her want to do anything she could to comfort him.
"You shouldn't be too hard on yourself, the Winter Soldier is always going to be a part of you, but you have to change your perception of what that means. Look at Sam and me, we trust you...well, Sam still needs to work on that, but he trusted you enough to bring you on this mission. Plus, the arm is kind of hot; you should show it off more." She smiled at him and was rewarded with a laugh.
Maybe she won't be frightened after all. "That's actually really good advice. Do you counsel soldiers with Sam too?"
"No, I guess he's just rubbed off on me over the years."
Where the hell did that come from? Chanel wondered of herself. I blame those damn eyes of his, worse than the devil's.
Chanel yawned; the alcohol and lack of sleep had broken down her resolve. She decided she would rather risk another nightmare than answer any more personal questions.
"Now that you've got me drunk, by trickery, I think I'm going to try and sleep."
"Hey, I never lied; you got yourself drunk by not following the rules."
Chanel curled up in her seat and laid her head on Sam's shoulder. With her eyes already closed, she wearily responded to Bucky's teasing, "That's something you'll learn about me soldier, I'm not a fan of rules."
Bucky chuckled softly and watched her drift off to sleep.
Similar to the coach tickets, the hotel Sam had picked was not up to Chanel's standards.
"Sam, you've got to be kidding, right? Look at this place; it looks like every hotel featured on Dateline."
Sam rolled his eyes, "Chanel, we're only going to be here for two nights. I think it'll be fine."
"Let me just call a contact. I bet he would let us stay at his villa. Hold on." Chanel stepped outside of the dingy hotel lobby and dialed the number of a contact she had worked with in Berlin a few months prior.
"Stephan! Happy to hear from me?"
She giggled flirtatiously at his response, "Well, that's good because I'm in Berlin. Are you in the city?"
His negative reply made her pout her lips in disappointment.
"That's too bad. My friends and I just need somewhere to stay for a couple of nights." She waited on his response with her fingers crossed.
"You're a godsend Steph, we'll be there in 20 minutes. Consider your favor repaid. Sorry we couldn't see you in person. Good luck in Madrid!"
She hung up the phone and turned around to find Bucky and Sam waiting behind her with inquisitive expressions on their faces.
"Once again, Chanel to the rescue. Let's get out of here," she said with a pleased smile.
Chanel watched Sam's face light up with surprise as he took in the expansive villa. The clean white 4 story mansion was set against a backdrop of lush greenery and peaceful gardens filled with roses. Elegant swans glided across the surface of the pond set to the side of the house. The setting exuded luxury on every level.
"Chanel, whose house is this?"
"Villa, Sam. It belongs to a contact, Stephan Kaiser. He and I worked together on a job a few months ago. He owed me a favor."
As they walked up the steps toward the large arched entryway, Stephan's butler, a gentle-looking elderly man named Manfred, opened the large doors.
"Frau Thomas! Wie schön Sie wieder zu sehen!" Manfred greeted Chanel excitedly, taking her luggage from her.
What the hell? A pleasure to see you again? Sam eyed the interaction suspiciously.
"Manfred! Die Freude ist ganz meinerseits!" Chanel returned his excited smile and kissed him on each cheek.
She speaks German? Bucky was impressed and pleased to have another small piece of information to file away in the growing folder with her name on it in his mind.
Chanel introduced Sam and Bucky in English, and Manfred led them all into the house.
The inside was just as extravagant as the outside. The open floor plan made the home feel even more expansive than it was. Airy sunshine poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The sitting room was adorned with modern art pieces and fashionable furniture.
"I have the rooms prepared just as you like, Ms. Thomas." Manfred smiled proudly at Chanel.
"You're the best, Manfred. We'll take our bags up in a bit." Chanel motioned for him to leave her bag by the staircase and made her way over to the fully stocked bar.
"Shall I begin preparing dinner? I have your favorite, beef tenderloin and roasted asparagus."
"Ja! Klasse!" Chanel's face lit up with pleasant surprise.
Manfred nodded and took her reaction to be a yes. He smiled, a twinkle of pleasure in his smoky blue eyes, and hurried off to the kitchen.
"Danke!" Chanel called after him.
Sam had been wandering around the sitting room, studying everything and keeping tabs on the conversation.
He crossed the room, rolling his eyes at Bucky, who was sitting, unconcerned, on the couch, and stood across from Chanel at the bar. "What kind of government check gets you all this?" He waved his hands around the expansive villa, "a house this size? A butler?"
"Villa. And I didn't say he worked for the government." Chanel said nonchalantly as she poured vodka into a glass.
Sam crossed his arms, agitated, "Chanel, whose house is this?"
"It's a villa, Sam, and don't get all worked up. Stephan is a good guy."
"Chanel," Sam said sternly.
Bucky turned to watch the interaction, a smirk on his face. Chanel was going to be an endless box of surprises.
Chanel sat down her drink and sighed loudly, "If you must know, Stephan was involved with a target I was tracking on a mission."
Sam's eyes grew wide as his jaw dropped slightly.
Chanel held up her hand to stop him from interrupting, "but he ended up helping me, willingly, in the end, and I helped him get a deal for his efforts. That's why he owed me."
Sam was not satisfied, "Okay, so if he's on the straight and narrow, how is he still living in a hou- villa? And why are you walking around here like this is your second home? What was all that with the butler? Your favorite meal?"
"I didn't say he was on the straight and narrow. And he obviously hid his money before making any deals with the government."
Sam mouthed a wow and started to turn away from her.
"Look, he doesn't hurt people okay? He just sells...things...that are hard to get... legally. And yes, I've been here before. How do you think I got him to turn on his partner? By asking pretty please?" Chanel scoffed and downed the vodka she had poured.
Sam stared at her, his jaw hanging open, unable to form words. Chanel poured another drink and offered it to Sam. He shook his head and looked to Bucky for backup, "Are you okay with this?"
Bucky's mouth had turned down in a slight frown, but his eyes revealed nothing to Sam.
He turned back to Chanel, "we can't stay in a criminal's villa Chanel, what are you thinking?!"
He looked back to Bucky, who had recovered his previous smirk, "I mean, it is nicer than that hotel, and we're only going to be here two nights. What's the harm?"
"Thank you, Bucky," Chanel smiled in his direction and turned to address Sam, "Stephan is not even going to be here." Chanel grabbed her drink and walked over to Bucky on the couch. She turned her back to Sam and sat down next to Bucky. Over her shoulder, she continued, "If you want to go back to the hotel, be my guest, but Bucky and I are staying here."
Sam looked at the both of them, smiling smugly at each other on the elegant couch, and let out an exasperated sigh, "This was a bad idea. The two of you together are going to be the death of me."
"The guest rooms are upstairs, 3rd floor; you can have the first pick." Chanel offered in an attempt to cheer him up.
Sam shook his head disapprovingly but grabbed his luggage and headed upstairs.
"But I call dibs on the one with the jacuzzi!" Chanel called after him.
"I wouldn't expect anything less," Sam grumbled as he disappeared upstairs.
"He'll come around." Chanel downed the rest of her vodka before turning her gaze back to Bucky.
He had finally removed his jackets and gloves, giving her a better view of his build. She quickly appraised the rippling muscles under his gray long sleeve shirt. The sleeves pushed up just enough for her to appreciate the silent power of the glittering gold accents on his vibranium arm. She moved closer to him so that their bodies were almost touching.
He swallowed hard, both uncomfortable and excited by how close she was sitting to him. The notes of jasmine and almond in her perfume were intoxicating and made him lean in closer to her. Her golden eyes were shimmering with promises of pleasure.
Softly he said, "You have the most beautiful eyes. It was the first thing I noticed about you…."
Chanel grinned in response to the compliment.
"...well, the first thing I noticed after I realized you weren't a crazy person trying to run people over on the sidewalk," he said with a teasing smile.
Chanel scoffed playfully and swatted his chest with her hand, "Please! I think you noticed a lot more than that." She kept her hand on his chest and inched closer to him.
His magnetic blue eyes held her gaze. "Of course I did, for example…" He ran his vibranium hand over her side, the cool metal leaving goosebumps on the slivers of exposed skin.
She winced when he reached the tender bruise that still remained on her ribs.
"...I noticed that."
He moved his hand over the barely noticeable bruises on her neck, "...and that…." He gently trailed his fingers over the slight bruise that remained on her cheekbone, "...and that."
Chanel was entranced; her heart was thudding so loudly she was sure he could hear it. She had not anticipated her body's reaction to his touch or the way his deep soft voice called to her heart. She was used to causing these feelings in others, not the other way around.
"What happened?" Bucky asked softly, his fingers still lingering on her face.
Chanel's enchantment was broken by the image of Henri lying dead on top of her body, his face shifting into Cameron's like it had in her last nightmare. Her chest started to tighten up as she tried to push the image out of her head.
She sighed and tried to turn the situation around. She needed distractions, not conversation.
"Why do you insist on constantly trying to ruin the mood?" She chaffed as she ran her hand up his chest. "Try and relax a little." She moved her face closer to his as her hand reached his shoulder.
So many secrets. Why doesn't she want to tell me anything about herself? Maybe she doesn't trust me after all. Maybe she just wants to say she was with the Winter Soldier. The thought made Bucky's heart sink, as he remembered previous women who had used him for the same reason. But the rational side of his brain was distracted by how close her billowy lips were to his. But my God, she is radiant. His pulse quickened in response to her intoxicating presence.
Chanel took the swipe of his tongue across his lower lip as a green light and closed the distance between them. She gently pressed her lips against his and wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to her.
He kissed her back gently, his vibranium hand gently cradling her face.
Finally! Chanel thought as she moved her fingers up through his short hair.
The drag of her nails against his scalp further quieted his doubts, and his flesh hand trailed down the curves of her body.
The delicate brush of her tongue on his bottom lip sent goosebumps down his arm. He parted his lips quickly, allowing her to deepen the kiss as she lifted herself onto her knees and pressed her chest firmly into his. The warmth of her body against his quickly spread through him like a shot of whiskey. His flesh hand responded automatically to her new position and grazed softly over the curve of her butt, and her lips became more urgent against his.
Shit! Stop this now before it goes any further. Bucky quickly removed his hand and gently pushed her away from him.
He took a moment to find his voice, "I- I'm sorry, I let that go too far-"
Chanel was undeterred, "don't be ridiculous; we barely got started." She leaned back in, attempting to kiss him again, but he quickly stood up off the couch.
He rubbed the back of his neck, "uh, I think I better go...get settled."
I can't believe I did that...Bucky's train of thought was stopped when he saw the look of hurt and confusion on Chanel's face...shit, see you hurt her feelings, damn it!
Sam's footsteps in the distance signaled his impending approach.
"I'm sorry, Chanel - I'll uh see you later."
Bucky walked quickly away as Sam descended the stairs.
"Um, okay then…." Chanel watched him, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion. What the hell...that's never happened before...Chanel thought as she gently pressed her fingertips to her lips. She relished in the feeling of his lips on hers, trying to prolong the high she hadn't been ready to lose.
She brushed the encounter off when she noticed Sam approaching.
"What's wrong with him?" Sam motioned to Bucky, disappearing at the top of the stairs.
"Don't worry about it. Are you in a better mood now?" Chanel asked playfully as she waltzed over to him and enveloped him in a tight hug.
Sam stiffened, not ready to give in to her so easily. He sighed, "I would be in a better mood if you had contacts that weren't illicit salesmen."
Chanel responded with a sharp laugh, maintaining her hug stubbornly. "Come on, Sam, lighten up. Aren't the guest rooms to die for? Did you lay on the bed yet? It's like a cloud."
With a roll of his eyes, he finally gave in and returned her hug with a small smile.
"Okay, yes, the bed is like a damn big cloud. No wonder you like being undercover so much." He said with a soft kiss to the top of her head.
"It's hard, thankless work. I have to make it worthwhile somehow."
Sam laughed shortly as they walked towards the patio, "Yeah, well, it's spoiled you. First-class? Villas? Butlers? You do remember that you're from New Orleans, right?" He pinched a piece of her long hair between his fingers, "And I know these bundles aren't from NOLA. How much did this cost?"
Chanel rolled her eyes as they sat down on the patio chairs overlooking the rose gardens. She smiled tightly, "Of course I remember. I remember growing up with nothing and no one. Is it so bad to want nice things?"
"I get that, Chanel, but…" Sam struggled to find the right words to phrase his next statement. He inhaled sharply and continued on, "...my concern is how you ended up here in this house, and so cozy here. I don't think that is part of your job Chanel."
Chanel crossed her arms defensively. Her and Sam never talked about the details of her job. He understood that her work involved operating within gray areas. Still, he had always trusted that everything she did was for a bigger purpose. He always believed a line remained that she wouldn't cross.
"Sam, my job is to complete the job. However I can. You know I work in a huge moral gray area."
"Yeah, I know, and I get that. But, I mean, this seems like more than a little flirtation...you lived here...for how long? Did you sleep-"
"Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to," Chanel snapped.
"I think I need to know-"
She cut him off again, her anger and shame revealing itself in the pitch of her voice, "Why? So you can judge me? I don't need that right now."
Sam put his hands up in defeat, "I'm not trying to judge you, Chanel. You know I just worry about you, that's all."
Chanel huffed and turned her head away from him, staring angrily out at the gardens.
Their row was interrupted by Bucky opening the patio door. Chanel briefly turned to see who had opened the door but was still too angry with Sam to acknowledge Bucky with anything more than a stiff nod.
Bucky noticed the cold shoulder, I really fucked that up. He sighed quietly and turned to Sam, "I'm going out."
"You good?"
"Yeah. I'll be back soon."
Sam nodded, and Bucky left them alone again on the porch.
"Chanel, don't be mad. You know I'm coming from a place of love. You showed up to my apartment looking like hell, and you wake up every night screaming. You won't talk to me…."
Chanel couldn't look at him. She knew he meant no harm, but she was on the verge of having a panic attack.
"...I know you miss Nat. Can we just talk about it?"
Breathe, Chanel, control your emotions. Chanel tried to keep control over herself as her emotions threatened to burst out.
"I'm worried that you are drowning your feelings with work and that creating these false lifestyles and relationships helps you cope." He paused for a moment waiting for her to respond. He was worried he had gone too far, her whole body had gone rigid, and she still wouldn't look at him.
Gently he called to her, "It's me. Come on. Please?"
I can't have this conversation right now. This whole job is supposed to be a distraction, damn it! I have to give him something, just to make him stop. Bucky already noticed the bruises. I might as well tell him about that—deep breaths.
Chanel took a few deep breaths, and her body slowly started to relax. She met Sam's gaze, and the severe concern in his eyes made her stomach lurch with guilt. She was hurting him.
"I'm not mad at you," she said meekly. "There's something I haven't told you."
Sam leaned forward and clasped his hands, his eyes intent on her face.
"The mission I was on when you called in Paris, it didn't end well."
Sam nodded. He already knew that much.
"Like, very not well. I was attacked by a low-level fence I was pressing for information. He found out who I was, I still don't know how, and he tried to kill me in his apartment. I had to kill him, at point-blank range."
Sam's face was grave as she pointed out the bruises on her body and face.
"I see his face in my dreams, his face after I killed him."
Sam reached out and grabbed her hand, "you did what you had to do to survive. You always have."
Chanel turned her face away again, "yeah, but I put myself in a risky situation. I was living with him. And I don't know, maybe if I hadn't been, he wouldn't have had to die."
Sam sighed. That was precisely what he had been afraid of. "Chanel, how many times have you done this?"
Chanel pulled her hand away, on the defense again. "Plenty of times, and it always works. Paris is the only one that went south. I lost focus. It won't happen again."
Sam knew he wasn't going to get anything else out of her now. "I'm just glad you made it out okay. And I'm glad that you're here with me, so I don't have to be with the bionic staring machine alone."
His attempt to lighten the mood worked. Chanel gave him a small smile. "He's not that bad. By the way, why didn't you tell me he couldn't get drunk?"
Sam screwed his face up in confusion, "Drunk? What did I miss?"
Before Chanel could respond, Manfred opened the patio door. "I'm so sorry to interrupt. Ms. Thomas, Mr. Kaiser is on the phone for you. He would like to make sure your stay is satisfactory."
"Excellent, thank you, Manfred. I'll take it inside."
"Very well. Your dinner will be served in an hour. Mr. Barnes has requested a private service with you." Chanel and Sam both looked at Manfred with raised eyebrows. He turned to address Sam, "Mr. Wilson, I have taken the liberty of preparing the theatre for your dining pleasure tonight. I am told that you enjoy American football. You can access all of the games in the theater."
That was enough to distract Sam for the rest of the evening. "Oh no way, Manfred, you're the man. Can you show me now?"
"Of course, sir, please follow me."
Sam turned to Chanel for approval.
"I'm fine, Sam; thanks for the talk; truly, I feel better. I love you. Now go relax. We've got a busy day tomorrow."
Sam smiled wide as he jumped up from the table and quickly kissed Chanel on the forehead, "I love you too."
He followed Manfred into the house, Chanel close behind. What is Bucky up to?
She walked into the sitting room and picked up the old-fashioned landline. "Stephan, you missed my voice already?" She teased.
After assuring Stephan that everything was perfect at the villa and asking him what he knew, if anything, about Zemo, Chanel hung up the phone. The sun was sinking lower in the sky, casting a dim, warm glow over the house. The fragrant smells wafting through the house beckoned Chanel to the kitchen.
Manfred stopped her before she could enter the dining room. "Ms. Thomas, you mustn't ruin the surprise. Please, I have moved your old clothes up to your room," he guided her to the stairs.
"Stephan kept my clothes?"
Manfred nodded slightly, "I insisted, with the hope you would return one day. I'm particularly fond of the red dress, if I may be so bold."
"The red dress...Manfred, what schemes are you up to?"
Manfred smiled pleasantly, "No schemes, Ms. Thomas. I want to ensure your first night back is perfect. Please?" He motioned for her to go upstairs.
"You always were so sneaky. That's why we get along so well." Chanel winked and began her ascent to the 3rd floor.
She entered her guest bedroom and was greeted with 3 racks of clothing. She ran her hands over the pieces, her fingers slipping over linen, silk, and faux furs. Stephan had spared no expense when it came to her. He granted her every wish with a snap of his fingers. Her eyes moved to the shoes next, her Manolos and Louboutins bringing a large grin to her face.
I must be sure and thank Manfred for saving all of this; what an angel that man is!
He did always like to keep things classy. I guess the least I can do is dress the part and play along for him.
After a quick shower, Chanel found the red dress Manfred had hinted at. A vintage Gucci fitted mini dress that Stephan had gifted her after their first big sale together. Chanel smiled at the memory as she slipped the dress on. The short ruffled sleeves fell gently over the toned muscles of her arms. The gold Gucci symbol on a thin piece of fabric wrapped around her neck like a choker complimented her eyes.
She looked at her reflection in the mirror as she curled her hair and piled it on top of her head in a messy updo. Her made-up look, her clothes, the house, Manfred, it all made her long for the familiar comfort of pretending to be someone else. It was so much easier to pretend. To be whoever her prey needed her to be. And the high she got from it all was unmatched by anything else she had tried to numb her pain. Fear started to grip her heart as she thought about the eventual reality of having to go to sleep. Maybe Sam will let me sleep in his room. Or...maybe Bucky…he probably just got nervous earlier. She twirled in front of the mirror; satisfied with her final look, she slipped on a pair of low heel black Manolos and made her way downstairs.
The sitting room was empty, so she made her way to the dining room.
"Manfred? I'm all dressed up for you; what do you think?" She called as she entered the dining room.
Rather than Manfred, she was greeted by Bucky, leaning casually against the fireplace in the corner.
"Oh, hey, you're back…" she began as her brain registered what he was holding, "...are those flowers?"
Bucky crossed the room to stand in front of her, "You look great…" he paused for a moment as he meticulously took her in. The red color complimented her, bringing out the warm amber tones of her skin. Soft tendrils of loose hair framed her face like a Monet. He suddenly felt nervous. "...I'm sorry…" he motioned to his own outfit, his typical jeans, and a long-sleeve t-shirt, "...I didn't know Manfred was going to tell you to dress up."
"Manfred likes to keep me dressed up; it feeds his fantasy that I will live here permanently one day." Her eyes moved between the bouquet of purple orchids in his hand and the dinner for two set at the table behind him.
"Um yeah, these are for you. Manfred told me they were your favorite."
Chanel took the flowers from him, her eyebrows knit together in confusion.
"Why?"
Her terse response was not what Bucky had expected; she must still be mad.
"I wanted to apologize for what happened earlier today." Her face did not soften, increasing his anxiety. "I got carried away, I shouldn't have even kissed you, but I couldn't help myself, and…" You're rambling, Barnes, focus! He took a deep breath to settle his nerves before continuing, "...the point is I'm sorry for being so forward; you deserve better than that."
"Wait a second, so you went through all this trouble to apologize for grabbing my ass earlier?" Chanel suppressed a laugh.
"Well, yeah, I knew you were mad, and I…."
Chanel burst into a fit of laughter, "Bucky, I wasn't mad at you. It's 2023, not 1940. If anything, I was perturbed that you started something that you couldn't finish."
Bucky tilted his head back in disbelief, a slight smile on his face, "Always with the old man jokes. You and Sam need to get new material." He met her eyes with a soft smile. He didn't care that she thought he was old-fashioned as long as she wasn't mad at him.
"Don't hold your breath. Thank you for the flowers; they are lovely." She placed a gentle kiss on his cheek and moved her lips to his ear. "I can't wait to see what you get me after your hands actually make it into my pants," she purred.
Bucky stood frozen, unable to respond, as she twirled away from him with a flirty smile on her lips.
Jesus, why does she have to make this harder than it already is? He bit his lip as his eyes followed her graceful form across the room. She reached up to retrieve a vase from the top of the China cabinet, and the hem of her dress lifted just enough to capture his attention. Self-control. She's not just some woman you met at a bar.
With the flowers set, she glided back to where he still stood at the table. Chanel smirked when he pulled her chair out for her.
"You know, for a former assassin, you're pretty gentlemanly. Did Hydra have cotillion classes?"
Bucky sat across from her as they began eating. "Very funny. Would you prefer that I was more of a psycho assassin than a gentleman?"
Chanel pondered the question seriously, eyeing his vibranium arm. "Maybe," she vexed, only half-joking.
"Wow, that's nice." Bucky studied her face as he took a sip of wine; he couldn't tell if she was serious or not.
Manfred entered the room, carrying more wine. "Is everything to your liking, miss?"
"Everything is splendid Manfred, you've outdone yourself. Thank you for saving my wardrobe; it feels refreshing to be dressed as Frau Thomas again. And for helping Bucky with the flowers, I'm touched that you remembered my favorite."
Manfred smiled warmly at her but eyed Bucky suspiciously. It was his job to do what was asked of him, but he didn't like the implications of the intimate dinner Bucky had requested of him.
"All my pleasure, of course." As he poured wine into Chanel's glass, he whispered to her, "Ich vertraue ihm nicht."
Chanel smiled knowingly, of course he doesn't trust him. Chanel patted his hand to convey that he should not worry. With one last side-eye glare at Bucky, he reluctantly bowed out of the room.
"Sorry about that. Manfred is always over-cautious. It comes with the job."
Bucky was unconcerned. He was used to strangers being wary of him. What struck him as odd was the paternal nature of Manfred's actions.
He looked at Chanel thoughtfully, "He's quite fond of you. You were serious when you said he hopes you'll live here permanently?"
"He's fond of the person I pretended to be when I lived here. Even after they found out I wasn't who I claimed to be, he hoped Stephan and I would stay together. In his world, such frivolous things like love and commitment are simple, natural things. But that doesn't exist in my world."
A million questions raced through Bucky's mind, but he had learned to tread lightly. "So, less threatened by this…" he held up his vibranium arm, "...than he is of me stealing you away?"
Chanel ignored the implication of his words. She shifted in her seat, suddenly becoming uncomfortable with how intimate the setting was. She tried to keep the conversation playful.
"Manfred has faced scarier threats than you during his time. Besides, he knows if you were to go psycho on us, I wouldn't let you hurt him." She flashed a taunting smile at him.
Bucky let out a short laugh, "Oh, is that so? You really think you could beat me in a fight?"
Chanel pushed her empty plate to the side and sized him up as she finished her glass of wine. "Fighting is about more than just brute force. It's a dance, a seduction. I think I've got you beat there. Shall we find out?"
Bucky could see the glint of excitement in her eyes; she was serious. He pictured her, in her cherry red dress, in hand-to-hand combat with him, her loose curls flying around her face, and her usually playful eyes set in fierce determination. His thoughts quickly devolved, all of the fight scenarios he thought up ending with his hands gripping her hips, pinning her to the wall, or the floor, or the table.
He took a deep breath as he ran his fingers through his hair. "As much as I would like to see that, I don't think that is proper date etiquette."
Date? Chanel's stomach dropped in panic. Manfred returned before she could respond and ushered them into the sitting room where he had dessert wine waiting. Dreamy jazz music filled the air as Chanel sat down on the couch, still silently panicking, He has to be joking...a date? He was really serious about the whole 'you deserve better thing,' this is not good.
"What's the matter doll?" Bucky hadn't missed the change in her demeanor after he said the word date.
Despite her instinct to run, her heart fluttered, and her eyes met his instantly when the new pet name crossed his lips. That's going to be annoying, she chastised herself.
"Nothing, I…" Chanel trailed off, for once at a loss for words.
Bucky guessed that she was beginning to feel vulnerable; he could understand that all too well. If I want her to open up, I have to show her it's safe...I have to let her see a piece of me. It was an uncomfortable feeling but a price he was more than willing to pay.
Before he lost his nerve, he quickly began, "I think we have a lot in common. Mainly that we don't trust anyone. I've been trying to work on that." He glanced at Chanel, who watched him with guarded eyes, unsure where he was going with this. He held her gaze as he continued, "I don't have any family. Steve was the closest thing that I was ever going to have to that. He was the only one who remembered me as I truly was. His view of me wasn't tainted by who I became. And now he's gone." He paused to take a shaky breath, "My therapist told me that being alone, with these horrors in my head, was the quietest, most personal hell. I think you know what that's like."
Chanel nodded silently. Everything in her being was screaming at her to escape. Still, she sat as if in a trance, unable to actually pull the trigger on leaving.
She took a large gulp of her wine to settle her nerves. "I may know something about what that feels like." Chanel wanted to say more. She wanted to let him know just how much she understood what he was feeling. But how could she without revealing the worst parts of herself? At least he was an unwilling participant in his horror show; she had been very much a willing participant in hers.
Bucky continued gently, mindful of how she was nervously holding her wine glass in a death grip, "Do you want to hear a funny story about Steve?"
Chanel exhaled in relief at the promise of a lightened mood. Bucky launched into story after story about his and Steve's many adventures in their youth until Chanel was crying from laughter.
"Okay, I have a good one…" she wiped the tears from her eyes as she tried to stop laughing long enough to get her story out. "...when Sam first introduced me to Nat, he had to force it on us, you know, with her being a spy and my general lack of trust, so he set up a date for us at a cafe to have tea of all things. Can you picture it? Nat and I just sat having tea? We didn't say anything to each other for the first 10 minutes. We just sat there silently sizing each other up until she asked if I knew how to fight. Long story short, imagine Sam's surprise when he found us entangled in hand to hand combat at the compound instead of sipping tea where he had left us."
Bucky relished in every flicker of emotion on her face as she giggled through her story. The airy feeling he felt as he watched her laugh was unfamiliar to him, but he knew he needed more of it.
"Tea...really? And here I thought Sam knew everything there was to know about women."
"Ha, is that what he told you? He wishes."
As their laughter subsided into a cozy silence, Chanel realized what had just happened. The usual pain that had become attached to her memories of Natasha had, for a moment, eluded her. Shit, how did I slip up and let that happen?! She braced herself for the flood of emotion she knew was bound to overtake her, but it didn't come.
"It's nice to be able to think about them in happier times. I know losing Natasha must have been tough for you."
Chanel looked down at her lap, "she was my family."
Bucky didn't need any more explanation than that to understand precisely how Chanel felt. He gently lifted her chin to raise her eyes to meet his. "Would you like to dance with me?"
Chanel cocked her eyebrow, "Do a lot of dancing with Hydra did you?"
Bucky rolled his eyes as he grabbed her hand and pulled her off the couch. "Don't be surprised when that mouth of yours gets you in trouble one day."
"Oh, I'm counting on it," she teased.
Chanel pressed her body into his, and his hand found the small of her back as he led their dance to the soothing jazz.
They danced in silence, each basking in the rare vulnerability they both felt in the stolen moment. With no guilt, no stress, no worries, no distressing memories, they both got a glimpse of a simpler life. A life that neither of them truly believed they were deserving of.
As the song ended, Bucky dipped Chanel low, his face hovering inches from her neck. The warmth of his breath on her throat flamed the fire that had already begun smoldering inside of her. She tilted her head back further and closed her eyes in anticipation of his soft lips making contact with her skin. When he pulled her back upright without indulging her, she huffed in frustration.
Bucky grinned coyly at her, "Thanks for the dance doll. I think we better call it a night."
Chanel tried to regain control of the situation as the fear of her imminent nightmares started to creep up again. "Well, since this was a date, does that mean you're going to walk me to my room like a true gentleman?" She batted her eyelashes at him innocently.
"Of course," he said quietly as he offered her his hand.
As they reached the open door of her room, Chanel squeezed his hand gently, "Thank you for the most elaborate, most unnecessary apology of all time."
She stood in the doorway and waited for him to make the next move.
"You're very welcome," Bucky said thickly, his eyes settled on her lips.
He leaned in slowly until his face was inches from hers. Chanel's body hummed with an unfamiliar excitement. She couldn't remember the last time a man had truly made her feel this way. What the fuck is wrong with me?! He hasn't even touched me yet!
Bucky slowly traced his finger over her bottom lip. "By the way, I always finish what I start."
Chanel's breath was stuck in her throat, his reference to her earlier taunt making her heart race.
He placed a chaste kiss on her lips. Pulling back slightly, he whispered against her lips, "goodnight, doll."
Goodnight? Goodnight?! She couldn't believe he was walking away from her. Again. She was going to have to up her game.