Flashlight


Chapter eight


After your emotionally draining conversation with Wanda, you had given yourself a much deserved reprieve. Allowing yourself to wallow in self pity for the rest of the day. You knew that soon enough, there would come a moment where you would have to confront Bucky. And, since you still had no idea just how long he would be in town, it would have to be soon. However, there were more pressing matters to be acted upon first. Like the matter of getting the newly weds to the airport in time for their honeymoon.

Which was why you found yourself in front of their apartment now, having knocked twice already. Impatiently you knocked again, still hearing no sound coming from behind the door. You sighed, you really didn't want to use your key. Who knew what state of undress you'd find them in if you did. Luckily you were early and there was still time to wait. If only you had acquired patience. Taking out your phone, you decide to type out a quick message to Natasha, hoping she would respond quickly. And when she didn't, you finally decided to call. Anything to avoid the risk of walking in on them.

"Knocked already?" Steve's voice startled you and you turned to greet him with the phone still pressed to your ear. She wasn't picking up. Behind Steve the door to the stairs closed loudly and it explained how he had managed to surprise you. No elevator ding to clue you in on his arrival if he took the stairs.

"No, I usually just wait until someone miraculously decides to open the door for me," you said, a sickeningly sweet smile on your lips and Steve chuckled. You couldn't help but join in.

"So, what are you doing here?" You asked, a little confused. Had you gotten your wires crossed? You would bring them and he would pick them up in a week. Or so you thought anyway. And though he was usually a welcome sight, your current inner turmoil had you a little more apprehensive. Steve was the kind of guy to talk things through. He'd want you to talk to him and you weren't sure if you were ready for that.

"Thought you could use the company for the ride back," he shrugged, standing next to you. You nodded, not willing to tell him no either. He was being a good friend. It wasn't his fault that you tended to pull back when things got rough. Besides that was one of your worst habits, perhaps it was time to change it. Isolating yourself wasn't going to help you. Or anyone else for that matter.

"I'm afraid we'll have to use the key," you finally whispered and he gasped loudly, his movements exaggerated as he placed a hand on his heart and stumbled back. You shook your head with a smile, he didn't seem to understand the predicament and you were not going to be the one to burst his bubble. Instead you handed him the key and opted to follow instead of leading the way.

He took it willingly, pushing it into the lock, unlocking the door quickly and stepping into the apartment. No sounds were heard as you stepped over the threshold. The living room was empty, the kitchen unused. Opening the fridge you noticed that at least the dish you had prepared for them for yesterday had been eaten.

A light went on in your brain and you gasped.

"They overslept" you stated and knocked loudly on their bedroom door.

From the other side of it you could hear Clint curse loudly, grumbling about it being too early as he stomped over to the door. Steve laughed and you smirked, waiting for your friend to come into view. And when the door was opened an angry looking man stood on the other side of it, with hair sticking in all directions, glaring as the two of you began to laugh merrily.

"What are you doing here?" Clint snapped, not in the mood for jokes and not yet making the connection to his departure either. He must have been in deep slumber before your knocking woke him up.

"I'm here to give you a ride, remember?" You offered simply and Clint appeared to mull over, his face contorted as his brain worked.

"That's not until noon," he finally responded and you held up your phone to show him that it was indeed noon. His eyes grew wider and he dropped the sheet he had been wearing around his waist. With a dramatic shriek you covered your eyes, turning quickly to avoid a peak. Inside the bedroom you could hear Natasha growling and behind you Steve laughed loudly.

"But I set the alarm," Clint mumbled feebly, seemingly unable to grasp the reality, while his eyes showed the panic that was growing in his tired brain.

"Guess you missed it bud," you offered with a shrug, "Why don't you get ready. What needs to be done?"

"Our carry on," he whispered and you nodded, still not looking at him, instead you pointed your hand in the direction of the bathroom. You didn't uncover your eyes until the door closed behind him.

Stepping into the bedroom you quickly grabbed some clothes for Clint, pushing them into Steve's arm and telling him to help his freaked out friend, while you focussed on Natasha and their carry on luggage.

Back in the room, you closed the door behind you and grabbed the robe that hung from the back of it, tossing it to Natasha. She was still trying to wake herself up and the panic her husband felt had not set in yet. Though you doubted that it would. She usually managed to at least appear calm as ever.

"Can we still make it?" She asked as she began to move through the room to get her things in order. You chuckled as you noticed she was going through her winter clothes and you took them from her hands and placed them back, before sitting her down on the bed.

"It'll be fine, Nat. You just get dressed and I'll get your luggage ready."

She nodded and finally got herself some clothes to wear, before moving towards the bathroom.
When she was gone from the room, you pulled the curtains open, light filtering into the uncharacteristically messy room. You began sorting through the mess quickly, tossing everything they wouldn't need into a pile in the corner of the room, while the rest ended up on the bed. That way you could declutter as fast as possible, there was much time to waste now, despite the calm you had shown in front of your friends. You liked being everywhere on time. Early if possible. And therefore you may have fibbed a little about their departure time. That said, you had not calculated this mishap. Natasha had never overslept for anything in her life. She was usually more punctual than you were. Clint, on the other hand, did this all the time. Which was why you told them the little white lie.

"Need a hand?" Steve wondered as he stepped past the door frame.

"If you were Clint, what would you put in your carry-on?" You asked and he chuckled, walking into the room, ready to help you. The first things you gathered were the chargers and necessary papers.

Within half an hour the couple was dressed and checking the bag you had prepared for them, as you roped Steve into weighing the suitcases for them. When all was deemed sufficient, you hurried them out of the apartment and to your car. As you drove, you may or may not have ignored the speed limit a little. Something you never did, but you really wanted to get these two on that plane.

Natasha and Clint still couldn't believe they had overslept and kept thanking you and Steve for your help. Quick to ease their mind you confessed that you fibbed about their departure time. Steve laughed loudly, thanking you for taking Clint's less than punctual nature into account.
The little white lie meant that there was only a fifteen minute delay to your schedule now, making you confident that it could be salvaged. If there were no delays at customs, there was no reason that the couple would not reach their gate well within their timeframe.

You hugged them goodbye, waving as they walked away, not stopping until they were out of sight. When they were, your shoulders slumped and you took a deep breath, leaning into Steve as he wrapped an arm around you. You knew the delay may have saved you from the usual prying eyes of your best friend and you were glad that pretending to be happy was over now.

"You did good," Steve said and placed a kiss on the top of your head, before steering you back towards the exit. You scoffed, already exhausted from all the rushing you had done. The entire time there had been a bright smile on your face, calming the couple and ensuring them that it would all be okay. They couldn't know that the smile was fake, not yet anyway. But faking such happiness was as tiring as the rushing had been, if not more so. Steve held out his hand and offered to drive back into the city to which you agreed, handing him the keys. Sitting on the passenger's seat, you allowed yourself to take a moment and closed your eyes. Tomorrow you had to go back to work and somehow it felt far too soon.

"How are you doing?" Steve asked. The drive back had passed by in silence, but now that you were parked in front of Natasha's apartment again, behind Steve's car, he decided it was time to speak. For a while there, you had thought that perhaps he wouldn't, though you should have known better.

"I'll be okay, Steve" you promised, a smile playing on your lips. You didn't want him to worry about you.

"I know that," Steve shifted in his seat, turning to look at you and shooting you a smile, 'But until then, is there anything I can do?" He asked, his face the epitome of compassion as he looked at you. You smiled back and sat up straighter, wondering if you had been far too selfish. Surely Steve would have feelings as well. His best friend came back home after two years and here everyone was worrying about you. You reached out and took his hand in yours, squeezing it gently.

"You're a good friend Steve." You mumbled. He raised an eyebrow at you, pressing for an answer to his question.

"I don't think there is much you can do here," you finally said, "I just have to confront this head on, don't you think?" Steve nodded, squeezing you back softly.

"For what it's worth, I don't think he's leaving just yet," He offered, that same compassionate smile on his lips and light in his eyes.

"I wish he'd stay," you confessed with a sigh, your eyes downcast.

"Me too," Steve admitted as he wrapped a second hand over yours. You turned your eyes back to him and nodded.
His response showed you just how he felt. He had missed Bucky, just like you. And if he wasn't talking much to you about it, you just hoped he found someone else. Perhaps you could ring Sam up and ask him to look out for your blonde friend. Sam usually managed to get everyone to talk to him.

"I'll text him tonight, see if he can meet me this week," you promised, hoping Steve would accept and stop worrying about you so much.

Stepping out of the car, you made sure to pull him into a tight hug. Telling him that you'd always lend an ear if he needed one. Steve chuckled and nodded, before telling you not to worry about him and you scoffed. When would he learn, you always worried. You were much like him in that way.

Steve got into his car and with a last honk he drove off, leaving you on the sidewalk next to your own car, debating your next step. Finally you decided to get groceries for an easy dinner, before following up on your promise to Steve.


Swallowing the last bite of your salad, you pushed your plate away from you and stared at your silent phone. Postponing what you knew you had to do, you took your plate and moved into the kitchen. Turning the tap, you squirted some soap into the slowly filling sink and waiting a moment before dropping your dishes into the warm water.

Not long after the dishes were drying on the counter and you knew there were no more excuses to use. Gathering up all the courage you had inside of you, you moved back towards the living room. Though you were aware that calling would have been better, you didn't think there was enough courage inside of you today for that and decided on a text instead.

The words were difficult to find and shape into a coherent text. You kept wondering what the right words were in this situation. You didn't want to pressure him, even after two years it was clear that he was jumpy enough to run. Still, you needed this, as Wanda had rightfully pointed out. You needed closure. To figure out where you went wrong, what else you could have done and perhaps grow from it and move on. After a few tries, you settled on a sentence that seemed well enough. At least as good as it was going to get today.

'Do you have a moment to talk later this week?'

'sure' Obviously he wasn't jumping for joy, but he responded quick enough to ease your worries a little. If this response had taken him longer to type, you might have chickened out.

'when?'

'you still work on 7th street?' He typed back after a few minutes. The longest minutes.

'yes'

'I have an appointment there on Tuesday, why don't I meet you there after your shift?'

'okay. Thanks'

With a sigh you put down your phone again jitters slowly spreading through you. Tuesday. That was really soon.


A/N: I really struggled to get this chapter written, knowing what I wanted in there but not entirely certain how. Hopefully it did not disappoint.
Feedback is greatly appreciated.

And again a huge thanks to beanstalk007 on tumblr for the help with this chapter.