11

He hated that he had to be back here, again. The resentment wasn't necessarily because he had anything against seeking pleasure, even if it was in the most aberrant way possible, but it was because you worked in this environment. Knowing what was going on just below where you worked - people fucking each other raw - made his skin crawl and he had no idea why.

He doesn't know why when he feels the cold brick behind him nor when he overhears two men just outside the back entrance.

Bucky takes shield around the corner, pulling his dark hood higher over his head as he does so.

"What time is the package supposed to arrive?" One of the man asks, in a heavy east European accent, "We have to head up to quarters right after. Something serious."

"Tonight." Is the only thing the other man says. His accent is the same as the first man.

Bucky hears the heavy footsteps of shoes on wet gravel, and he eyes for possible escapes incase he needs to divert himself.

"Silas wants to give us the run down, he should be in his room." The first man says.

"Is she in there, too?" The second man asks. They both chuckle.

Bucky listens for the sound of the door closing. He peeks his head around the corner to see the back door close right behind the two men.

Waiting a few minutes and then standing up tall, he looks around one more time before going through the same door.

Bucky feels hot the second the door shuts behind him. The stairs led down to a dark stair case, at the bottom splitting in two. The room was mildly lit by a three candlelight fixtures that hung on the high ceilings. It glowed in a soothing yellow that made Bucky only slightly curious as to how they could make sex club look so sophisticated and inviting. It smelled nice, too. Like freshly washed linen.

Strange.

Vigilantly, he took the stair case, keeping left as he did so. At the bottom of the steps, he hears a door close and he turns around to see that the hallway led farther down the back. He looks at each cream-colored door that is separated by increments of maybe four feet each, and he knows that that must be where the men go to get their sexual release.

Bucky continues down the hallway towards the front. He sees a woman come from the top of the second pair of staircase down ahead, and he quickly finds a small entrance to what he hopes is a closet, and hides. With practice, he's able to keep hidden but also keep his eye on the woman.

She wears a long white coat, that looks like faux leather, with a hood pulled over her blonde curls. The coat reaches the bottom of her knees. She wears high strapped nude heels that makes a sensual sound as she walks over the marble floors. Bucky takes note of the key she has in her hand. Bucky watches as she unlocks one of the inviting doors, going in, and then closing it behind her.

He wonders if that said door was for the men he had seen outside. He decides to continue his search as he pushes himself off the side of the wall. Sensing the sight is still clear, he continues to the rooms behind the second staircase, to the left he sees another hallway — Jesus hell — and to the right, a door. He decides to make a left.

This hallway is a little less decorated, and the floor beneath him is a bland black carpet. He notes that these doors don't have key holes. When he hears a long moan, he halts and realizes that they also weren't as sound proof either.

He hates this. He speeds up the pace of his walk, looking around to make sure the sight was clear, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible. He hears a juggle of a door and he quickly ducks once more at the end of the second hallway, which thankfully was close by. He looks back to see it's you and his fingers twitch.

His eyes furrow together.

What were you doing?

He watches as you struggle a bit with a pile of towels that are in your arms. Your foot closing the door behind you as you managed to not let them fall.

Bucky pushes himself away from the wall and struts over to you. To not startle you, he says your real name quietly.

It shocks you for a moment, and a little gasp escapes your lips as you find yourself spinning on your heel.

When you see Bucky you find yourself at ease, calming down quickly.

"I thought you were coming tonight." You tell him.

He brings a finger up to his lips, motioning for you to be quiet, and then he's pulling you into the closet you just walked out of.

You watch in disbelief as he takes the towels out of your arms, placing them on the empty table next to you.

You can barely seen him through the darkness, but just enough. The closet smelled musty, different than out in the hall.

"The hell are you doing, Marina?" He spats your fake Capitol name, looking at the towels, almost repulsed.

"I'm working, what does it look like?" You ask.

"Down here? I thought you were a bartender, not a —" his voice drifts as he looks at the towels, disgusted.

You look at the towels and back to his face, confused and mildly amused.

"Those are for the dishes." You say, watching as his face tints into a blush color.

"I didn't even know you were allowed access into this area."

"Pietro says it's fine when I need to get some supplies. But after taking this long to grab towels, I doubt he'll let me have this privilege ever again." You explain. Bucky lets out a small growl, leaning his arm over the top of your head. The proximity has your body on fire, "Bucky, relax." You whisper, looking up at him with a tilt of your head, "I'll be fine."

You watch as his jaw ticks.

"I don't like this place, you know that." He says quietly.

"Yes, I know sex makes you very uncomfortable."

The right side of this lips turns into an upset snarl.

"It's not the sex. It's these men, and how they use these women—"

"—there are men prostitutes, too, ya know? It's not just women."

"That's besides the point, you know what I mean."

You both freeze as you hear a distinctive sound. Your heart starts hammering away in your chest.

The echoes of two people definitely having sex in the room next to the closet, reverberates around the both of you. Bucky looks uncomfortable as his eyes look away from you, and your body up against his has never felt hotter.

The small closet didn't help the situation as a man's groan, announcing his release, forced Bucky to push himself off the wall and a good distance away from you.

Your breathing was harbored as you watched him turn away from you and run a hand through his hair.

"Everything you do bothers me, Y/N. I wanted to find you a different hot spot, it didn't have to be here." He says quietly, a slight roughness to his voice.

You found yourself feeling flushed, rejected, insulted, and attracted all at the same time.

"I'm sorry I can never please you," you pushed him away with your arm as you turned to grab your things, "If you excuse me, I have work to do."

Bucky watched as you grabbed the towels, knowing he'd hurt you once again.

But he couldn't help that he didn't want you working in an environment where Hydra men were sexualizing girls.

"Yeah, I got what I wanted, too. I'll se you tonight." Bucky says just before he watches you leave.

Just across the city in a glass tower, was a man in a tailored suit. He was standing tall in front of a glass window, a little girl with light brown curls held his hand. Next to her was an older man who wore a lab coat, a stethoscope wrapped around his neck.

Behind the glass was a little boy. He was face up, tubes coming in and out of his body. He was asleep.

"Daddy, will he be okay?" The little girl asked.

"He'll be just fine, sweetheart." The man says, squeezing her hand tighter.

The doctor shoots the man an apprehensive look. His eyes saying something completely different than the man's answer.

"Ashen, this was the eleventh drug we've tried. His vitals are deteriorating —" the old man says.

"Keep trying." The man, Ashen, says in a tight voice, not looking at the doctor.

The old man swallows hard, nods, and then walks away.

Ashen squeezes his daughter's hand once more, his piercing green eyes not leaving the boy's body for one moment.

"He'll be fine."

You had run into Bucky at the lobby after work. You had been in an alright mood, as alright as you could be after your awkward encounter that afternoon. You were optimistic that tonight would be one of the Olive Branch nights and not an Argument night. You had flashed him a smile and if you looked close enough, you could even see his eyes soften a bit.

It was going well until you both took the elevator up to your floor.

Because of cameras, you didn't ask him directly about his plans for tonight's mission, you had simply asked him if maybe he could pitch you in for something. If there was anything you could do to help him.

He didn't even look at you as he said no and it made your teeth clench.

"Nothing? You can't tell me anything?" You asked angrily.

"No. Now stop."

The tension between the two of you was touchable, like a volcano begging to erupt.

He maintained a neutral face that made you seethe. Was he really this unbothered by how you felt?

You were seeing red as you followed Bucky into the loft.

You didn't wait an extra second to grab him by his arm, forcing him to stop.

"What the hell is it? Is it me?" Your voice was loud in the dark apartment. He didn't say anything as you watched him, your eyes dark and heavy. You could tell Bucky was breathing hard by the way the muscles in his back moved up and down. Maybe he was bothered. His silence pissed you off even more, "Huh? Which is it?" You pulled your bottom lip into your mouth, trying to keep the shaking at bay as you let go of his arm. You were tired of how he kept treating you. From the second you met him up until this afternoon when he was disgusted by you. You shook your head and walked around him, completely fed up, "I'm done."

You were shocked when you didn't even get that far into the bedroom space before his hand caught your elbow. You loathed that his skin on yours made you hot in the best way.

You slowly turned your head and looked at it, halfway shocked and halfway insulted. Bringing your head up, you slide your hood off your head. He watched you intently as your face was revealed.

It was obvious you were hurt. You realizing he noticed this, but still did nothing, made your throat burn even more. You looked away from his pretty blue eyes.

"I've had enough of these games," you says slowly and quietly, eyes gazing to the floor, "You don't trust me, you don't like me," you forced through clenched teeth, "you don't like anything I do, it's never good enough, you blame my hair, my tattoo. Like it means something." you tried to shake your arm out of his tight grasp, shaking it manically, "I'm never good enough, no matter what I say or do." Bucky stared at you with sad eyes, something you weren't expecting, and you found yourself scoffing, "Another change of heart?" You asked with a humorless tilt of your head, "really?"

Bucky sucked in a deep breath.

You attempted to snap your arm to yourself once more and this time he allowed you to. You made your way towards the closet, ripping off your coat in the process.

He watched you without batting an eyelash.

"And you know what's the worst of all? Aside from all that shit you throw in my face, you don't respect me." You whispered, kicking off your boots.

"I do respect you." His shout was unexpected to the both of you.

The room went silent again, minus for your breathing.

You looked over at him only to see him walk over to you with sharp eyes and lips in a tight line. He was upset.

You stared up at him, more confused now than when you woke up this morning.

You shook your head as you stared up at his blue hues. You felt your body heat up again until there was no more than a foot of space between the both of you.

"What are you hiding inside that head of yours, Bucky?" You asked so softly it sounded like a prayer. He swallowed and you watched his Adams apple like a hawk. His eyes were intense as you drifted your own back to his, "What are you afraid of?" His eyes searched yours as you grabbed his flesh hand, "Tell me."

Liked a bucket of cold water, he turned away from you, ripping his hand out of yours.

You brushed away a lonely tear that had managed to escape your eye, and looked out the window and into the city.

"You aren't meant for this." He starts. He walks over to his side of the bed, sitting himself down, "You're young," his arms were on each of his legs as he stared down at his hands, fidgeting, "You didn't have to put yourself out on the line," his voice grew stronger, "putting your own life at risk, when you still have so many years ahead of you." You turned back to look at him and you could see the pain in his eyes as he stared at you, "It might seem like it's the right thing for you to do and you might think it'll feel liberating once you kill him, but throwing your youth away is only going to get you killed. Maybe not literally, but you won't be the same girl ever again. The fact that you are even willing to put all that on the line pisses me off. You are a young woman." He runs a hand through his soft hair, "I understand that the world is a mess right now, but this isn't the end. You have so much in store for you in your young life. You, agreeing to meet me or even come on this mission with me, is the worst mistake you could've ever made and I judge you harshly for it." He bent down and removed his one shoes, one by one with his metal arm, "Because of your reckless actions and uncivil motives, you're going to turn out just like me — scarred, ruined, and fucked in the head."

It all made sense now. You feel your eyebrows come together as your facia expression softens. You walk up to his side of the bed.

Tonight's chosen option was Olive Branch.

"You care about my life?" You ask. He doesn't look at you as his jaw tightens.

Well, he sure had a stupid way of showing it.

"It could've been another agent," he says, "someone with more experience, Steve could've been in on this mission and we would've gotten it all saved and done without your help. Not because I don't value it, but because you should value yourself. You didn't have to sign up for this."

"My parents —"

"I know!" He stands up suddenly, making you take a step back, stunned, "I know he killed them, and I know that feeling, Y/N. I lost my parents, too. And my baby sister. I know how that feels. It's fucking hard, but what do you do when something like that happens? What do you do when you need help sorting it out? You let the professionals do their job." You felt hot tears in your throat at his sharp words. He points out the the direction out the window, "Are you sure you're ready to deal with years of PTSD and trauma? Are you sure you're ready to kill someone because they killed someone you love?"

Bucky watched as tears filled your eyes. Surprisingly, his face was also full of emotion.

"I know—" you try again, more softly this time and with a broken voice, looking away.

"No," his voice was soft this time, too, "You don't know. I'm not saying this because I don't think you are capable, I know you've already killed someone, killing isn't a physically hard thing to do, I'm saying this because you deserve to know the truth about what's going to happen to you. It's going to change everything." He steps up to you, "Tell me you get that."

You look down at the ground, unable to stare at him so vulnerably anymore. You watched as his metal finger moved at his side and you grabbed it with your hand, instinctually.

"Y/N…"

The ridges of the metal felt so strange under your touch.

"I understand the projection of your feelings, even though they were completely uncalled for. I'm starting to get it, now. Why it is you are so angry about me being here," you swallow thickly, eyes darting up to meet his again as you don't let go of his hand, "But all I beg of you is that you continue to take the chance to get to know who I am. Be my friend." Your eyes darting over his face and you felt your face burning over how intensely he stared back down at you, "Because if what you said is all true, if I really am going to be ruined after all this, I'm going to need you there with me."

Humanity is now in our hands.