This is a story of a girl named Pearl, who meets a fucked up guy named Bucky, who's locked up by his best friend Steve, who works with a guy named Tony. This will have foul language, sex, alcohol and violence, but nothing extremely graphic. This also features Sam Wilson and Natasha Romanoff quite heavily, and other Avengers to a lesser extent. I hope you like it, some people seem to, but I'm not against criticism so if you've got any of that, let me know. English is not my native tongue, but I'm pretty good, so this should at least be legible.
This used to be titled Bucky and Pearl, but I've changed the title and I've been doing some rewrites as well as of September 2018. Nothing major has changed story-wise, I've just added some scenes, but because of that the reviews and chapters don't line up correctly anymore.
YOU MIGHT EVEN END UP HAPPY
CHAPTER ONE
THE INTERVIEW
"I'm not sure you'd be right for this." Natasha flips through the folder she has in her hands as she talks, as if she needs it to make a decision. As if she doesn't know Pearl.
"Why?" There's an irritation in Pearl's voice.
Natasha slams the folder shut and places her hands on it. "It's a desk job. A glorified secretarial position."
Pearl knows Natasha, who's wearing her worn-out black leather jacket with a black top and black jeans and looks like she's in a motorcycle gang, only agreed to interview her to talk her out of wanting the job at the New Avengers Facility. She might have hair whiter than the sun, but she's no dumb blonde and she is not about to give up, even if she thinks the name New Avengers Facility is literally the stupidest name for anything in the history of the world, ever, and hopes they'll change it before printing calling cards. Though the apartment she lives in is smaller than a minivan and located in Brooklyn, and not even the cool part of Brooklyn with all the hipsters and their bikes and mustaches, it's not cheap. Pearl needs a job, almost any job will do, and no government run agency wants to hire her—she knows, she tried them all. One little mistake and it's like she's Monica Lewinsky.
They're sitting across from each other in a small room that seems to have been renovated quite recently. Everything, meaning two chairs and one floor lamp in the corner, is new and white and Pearl suspects she's the first person to sit in the uncomfortable metal chair that keeps digging into her back through the crisp white button-up shirt she's wearing paired with a black high-waist skater skirt. The room echoes when Pearl taps her high-heeled shoe to the gray tile. A nervous habit.
"I know most of the software you guys have and I'll learn the rest," Pearl says. She stops tapping her shoe when Natasha glances at it and begins fiddling with the rings on her right hand instead.
Natasha runs her hand through her short red hair and hesitates for a split second. "You're more than qualified. A lot more. Going from the field to this... I don't know. You'd get bored."
"Trust me. Field work is the last thing I want to do right now." Pearl believes herself when she says it, but Natasha probably doesn't since she has a built-in lie detector that is annoyingly accurate and her gaze seems to be drilling into Pearl's dark blue eyes.
"Alright. So, the CIA booted your ass because of the affair but I spoke with your former supervisor and he thinks very highly of your work."
Of course Natasha brings it up, forcing Pearl to relive the shame once again. It was different when they were at that cute bar on Mulberry Street, the one with all the indie beers, drunk off their asses, laughing about the whole thing. That's the kind of situation where Pearl doesn't mind talking about it or making fun of herself for being so god-damn idiotic, but in the light of day it's not even funny. It's really just sad.
"Well, he has every reason to. And thank you, so much, for reminding me of my poor decisions, especially when you know I didn't do it on purpose." Pearl tries to remain calm and collected but there's a definite bitterness in her voice. Natasha is the one that wanted to hold an official, serious interview and now she's the one steering the conversation off the rails. Clearly Natasha does not understand that this job is everything to Pearl. Her former co-worker Lenny, the guy that was fired for accidentally leaking classified information to the Russians, has already offered her a job at the mall in New Jersey, where he runs the security team. Pearl does not want to become Lenny. She does not want to be like the guy that leaves his top-secret USB drive on the table at a Starbucks while going to pee.
"You kind of did. You just didn't know he was married."
Pearl still maintains that it should've been his job on the line and not hers as she didn't know about the wife and the two kids and the white picket fence, and yet she was the one that got fired while he got a two-week suspension, that was really just a paid vacation. Being the head of a department really worked out well for him.
Pearl scratches the bridge of her nose. "Yeah, anyway, I'm celibate now."
"Oh, well then, congratulations. The job is yours." Natasha looks and sounds super serious as she gets up and extends her arm.
"You've become quite the comedian," Pearl says dryly, getting up, sure that the chair has left permanent markings on her back, and shakes the redhead's hand.
Natasha's serious expression falters and a smile curves up onto her lips. "That whole celibacy thing? I give it a month, tops."
Pearl smirks, making Natasha laugh and roll her eyes. "Alright, let's get you settled in."
They walk down a white hallway with lots of doors that have round windows like cartoon submarines always seem to have. Pearl tries to peek into all the rooms as Natasha babbles on about the boring details of the job. Pearl catches glimpses of high-tech equipment and weapons but most rooms seem to be filled with boxes on top of boxes and surrounded by even more boxes.
Natasha catches Pearl looking, which isn't surprising as Pearl is hardly being subtle, jumping from one wall to another, almost sticking her nose against the windows. Natasha motions towards the boxes. "Those are old SSR and SHIELD files. They need to be digitized and you'll be in charge of handling it."
"Neat." Pearl is not even being sarcastic as it actually sounds awesome, rifling through old files from sixty or seventy years ago and getting paid for it.
Natasha keeps walking, but Pearl spots something in one of the rooms that isn't a box but rather a dark figure. A person. The door has a keypad just like the other doors but its frame's been reinforced with steel and it's bolted shut with a metal bar. Three security cameras point towards the door.
A man inside sits on a bench, staring at the wall. He's wearing a gray sweater and matching joggers and the whole outfit reminds Pearl of the clothes inmates wear, or at least wore the last time she visited a prison, and they're terribly ugly and ill-fitting. His long, dark hair drapes around his face and hangs over his eyes and his beard has not been shaved for a while and he really looks like a hobo, but Pearl doesn't think a simple homeless man would warrant three security cameras and a heavy duty door.
The man suddenly looks up, making Pearl almost stumble over her own legs out of surprise. He stares at her with his blue eyes and when she looks away, he seems to track her movement. Natasha notices Pearl has stopped walking and she walks back and she does not look pleased with her pursed lips and crossed arms.
"Let's go."
"But what-"
Pearl motions her head towards the window and Natasha quickly glances inside and back at Pearl with the serious look that Pearl knows really well that makes Natasha's lips look really full and her eyes are really intense like she's on the cover of Vogue, but then her brows furrow and her lips part a little and she looks back inside. And back at Pearl. And back at the man. He's still staring at Pearl and he looks sort of scary and intense and blinks about once every two minutes, which is weird, but the clothes really help make him less intimidating. Pearl runs her fingers through her curls and his eyes lock onto her hand and she smiles, making him blink and his eyes open slightly wider than before, and she doesn't even know what compelled her to smile but she smiles at everyone and it kind of reminds her of the time she smiled at the old Korean man, who runs the convenience store on her block, and he added her as a Facebook friend and started sending her pictures of his ass.
Pearl runs after and catches up with Natasha who is now quickly stomping her way down the hall. "Who is it?"
"The Winter Soldier." Natasha shows her key card to the reader by the door at the end of the hall and they go through.
"Wow."
The information of his identity definitely makes him more terrifying and Pearl wonders if the metal bar and a few pieces of steel are really enough to keep him in confinement. And why is he not dead or in prison? Natasha has on her mission face so Pearl decides not to bother her with questions, even though a million new ones keep popping up every second.
They walk down another hallway until Natasha opens up a door to her left and ushers Pearl in. Sitting by a round table, that's covered with blueprints to what looks like a ship of some sort, is Captain America and Sam Wilson, aka The Falcon, who Pearl recognizes from photos on Natasha's phone. He's not wearing his wings so Pearl doesn't think he should be called Falcon, after all she never calls Natasha Black Widow, but maybe Captain America should always be called Captain America. As a way to respect him, since the elderly should be treated with respect and he's about a hundred years old, even if he's well preserved and even more dashing in person than in any picture or video she's seen.
The guys turn towards the door.
"Cap, I'd like you to meet our newest employee," Natasha says and pushes Pearl to get closer.
Captain America gets up and so does Sam Wilson. Captain America smiles and his teeth are whiter than white, even whiter than Pearl's hair, and straight like a street in Germany. "Your friend, right?"
Natasha nods, sort of. They've known each other for years but calling them friends would be an exaggeration. They're really more like casual drinking buddies who only meet when there's something major going on that requires the consumption of alcohol, like getting fired for sleeping with your boss or having your whole agency turn out to be corrupt and full of terrorists or when your almost-boyfriend, the huge green monster, flies off in an invisible jet and goes off the grid.
Pearl extends her hand and Captain America shakes it and Pearl is sure her palm is sweaty. "Pearl Palmer. It's an honor to meet you, Captain."
He gives her a funny look and Pearl wants to slap her sweaty palm to her forehead for sounding like a huge dork. "Just call me Steve."
Sam Wilson also introduces himself and they do the necessary handshakes and the what's ups and the how are yous, and they offer Pearl a seat and a cup of coffee. She tries to act casual, as if it's just another day in her everyday life, having coffee with a bunch of superheroes, even though she doesn't even like coffee and only said yes not to be rude. She pours in milk and tons of sugar and hopes that somehow a Starbucks barista will materialize in front of her with a can of whipped cream and whatever else they put in those coffee drinks that are nothing like actual coffee.
"Funny thing happened. We walked past Bucky's room and he looked up and started staring at Pearl," Natasha says and the mood in the room becomes tense and nobody laughs and Natasha should really look up the definition of a funny thing since apparently that was not it.
"Are you sure?" Steve asks and glances over to Pearl, who's trying to sip her drink that's actually just been made worse by too much milk and sugar and is starting to taste like diabetes.
"Saw it with my own eyes."
Pearl looks up from her coffee cup to see all three staring at her intently like she's a ghost or something else incomprehensible though she's not sure if ghosts would even be a big deal these days when there's super soldiers and Hulks and gods from other dimensions running around. "What's the big deal? He's a man, men stare."
Pearl instantly regrets saying it as it makes her sound like a brainless, conceited bimbo and she doesn't want to come off that way, at least not in front of this crowd, but it's true. With her big curls, bright lipstick and skimpy outfits Pearl is no stranger to getting attention from men. Sam lets out the weirdest snort of a laugh Pearl has ever heard and she doesn't know if it's because he gets it and maybe he is a part of these men that sometimes stare at women, or if it's because she's sounding like a silly little girl and he wonders what she's even doing in their building.
"See, the thing is, Bucky never looks at anyone, ever," Steve says.
They keep calling the Winter Soldier by this name, Bucky, and Pearl thinks it sounds vaguely familiar but the CIA never had a real name for the guy and most people, Pearl included, thought he was a ghost story so it's definitely not something she read in his file.
"Who's Bucky?"
Steve explains the whole story from the beginning, starting with who is Bucky Barnes and explaining how his death turned out to not be a death at all and the assassinations and freezing his body and how he has some sort of bionic metal arm and everything in between and more. Pearl remembers something about The Howling Commandos and Bucky Barnes from the history books she hated reading in school. Steve doesn't know the details of what they did to Bucky to make him an assassin or how he exactly survived falling off the train, but he believes his friend is still in there even if right now he seems to be in full-on Winter Soldier mode.
"The first few days he was here, he tried to kill us but after that he hasn't responded to anything. Doctor says he's in some type of shock."
"Isn't it a bit harsh, keeping him locked up like that?" Pearl asks and notices Natasha's lips pursing and Sam's eyes shifting around and he quickly grabs his cup of coffee, though it's probably empty by now, and sips it very carefully.
The calm look on Steve's face becomes harder and his voice tighter. "He's my friend."
"I know, it's just it seems like it's not really working and maybe you should-", Pearl says before Steve interrupts her.
"He'll remember me, eventually, and before that happens I'm not going to let HYDRA get to him," he says, raising his voice and his eyes are drilling into Pearl's and she really wants to look away and her mind is telling her it would be smart to look away but some whacked part of her brain won't let her.
Natasha tugs on Steve's sleeve and motions towards the door and they go outside and Pearl knows they're talking about her. Maybe she crossed a line, questioning Steve's decision to lock up Bucky, but to her it sounds strange and counter-productive to put someone, that's been basically held prisoner, into a locked room and expect him to start warming up to you. Pearl hears muffled sounds through the door and it sounds like an argument. She sighs.
"What do you think is happening, because I think I'm getting fired and I'd like another option?" Pearl asks Sam. He chuckles.
"Why do you think you'll get fired?" Sam asks and it's like he hasn't even been paying attention to anything. Pearl fears her lack of filter will cost her the job and if it doesn't, she's certainly off to a rocky start.
"I'm annoying and intrusive."
"True, but he needed that reality check."
Sam keeps sipping his coffee and Pearl stares at the door even though she's dying to ask if he's just using the coffee to get out of uncomfortable situations.
The door opens and Natasha walks in, looking smug, followed by Steve who mostly looks pissed off but also kind of defeated. He looks like he has something to say but he doesn't say anything so Natasha gives him a little nudge and after blowing some air through his nostrils, he speaks.
"Alright, Pearl. I've decided to take your advice and try something new."
Pearl smiles widely for already having a positive impact on the work environment, though Natasha probably did help, and the possibilities flash through her head. Maybe they'll get some kind of a trauma counselor for Bucky or give him the freedom to come and go as he pleases and take him places he might remember or maybe hypnosis or something. Her expression quickly falters as Steve finishes his sentence.
"I'm sending you in to talk to Bucky."