A/N: If I were to post some AU one-shots of Ari and Bucky based on cute AU ideas found online…how would you guys like them posted? Should I make one "story" and have each AU be a different chapter? I'm just tossing around ideas because the fluffy idea bunnies, they are biting me, and when I can't sleep, I end up writing little one-shots for cute AU ideas.
Bucky had nightmares again that night and woke with the feeling that he was forgetting something. His nightmare had featured Ari. This wasn't new—Ari was common in his nightmares—but this nightmare had been different. She'd been tied down on a table and a dark, shadowy man had been bent over her, methodically cutting into her and pulling her organs out, his pale fingers slick with her blood. Her vacant eyes had stared right into Bucky's but he couldn't do anything to help her because he was locked in a cage a few feet away—and she was already dead. He couldn't cry. He couldn't scream. He couldn't break the bars of the cage. He could only watch in horror as she was taken apart piece by piece. Finally, the man bent over Ari had looked up at Bucky and smiled and Bucky had woken with a shudder, Alexander Pierce's eyes still flashing before his mind.
And now he felt like he was forgetting something. He frowned up at the ceiling fan, his arms folded behind his head. His t-shirt stuck to his chest like a second skin, drenched with nightmare sweat, and he quickly ripped it off and threw it across the room, unable to stand the feel of his fear on him for a second longer. Then he sat there for a moment, one hand pressed against his face, the other pushing his limp hair away from his face. What am I forgetting?
It suddenly came to him: Ari's date.
Right.
He looked at his clock. It was seven a.m. Surprisingly late for him but he decided he could still follow his normal routine—he would just have to bump into more people at this time of day. He jumped into the shower and then threw on a pair of running shorts, a tank top, and a hoodie. He wouldn't have normally worn the hoodie at four a.m. but it was seven, the sun was out, and he didn't want to have to deal with people staring at his shiny cybernetic arm reflecting the sun. Plus, he was still supposed to sort of be laying on the down low. Nick Fury had managed to cut some extensive deals with the U.S. government so that Bucky didn't get arrested—a favor for Steve (and Bucky had a feeling some of the other Avengers had stepped in)—but there was always HYDRA to worry about…among other threats.
Plus, he just looked like a freak. So he'd have to boil in the D.C. summer heat. It was okay, he was used to handling extreme temperatures without complaint. Whining was not a part of his nature now, if it ever had been before. He didn't quite recall. He'd gotten his memories back but he was still sometimes fuzzy on small things.
He tied his hair up and then took off, deciding to just jog around the block a few times instead of running to the Washington Monument. It only took him a few minutes of running to realize how annoying this was. Instead of running at full speed and letting off a little steam, he had to keep his eyes on the ground and run at a normal person's speed so as to not attract anyone's attention. It was infuriating. He felt like he was running in molasses.
It took him a few moments to realize someone was saying something right next to him. He jerked out of his irritated trance to look over at a woman running next to him. She wore a bright yellow tank top, black shorts, and had neon pink running shoes that seemed to glow. Bright red hair tied back in a glossy ponytail with a black headband. Bright green eyes. Fit, obviously worked out often, but still easily overpowered. Short, unpolished nails with some dirt smeared on her hands—worked in a greenhouse or a garden or something. Nature-y, athletic girl. He took all of this in in a matter of seconds, the way he always did. It was almost funny, he sometimes thought, how he and Ari both immediately began assessing people they met in their own ways: him for facts and weak points and strengths, her for health and illnesses.
Stop thinking about Ari. Someone is talking to you. A girl is talking to you.
"What?" he said dumbly. A second later, he cursed himself for being so stupidly awkward. A legendary trained assassin who could take out multiple targets in minutes—and he seemed to forget how to speak when he had to talk to a normal human being.
She laughed. "Sorry—I'm bothering you. I was saying, 'What's got you in such a funk?' but clearly it's something major because you didn't even hear me say that!"
"I—" He had no idea what to say. He still wasn't used to talking to strangers like this. "I was lost in thought," he mumbled.
"That's obvious," she said. "Do you normally run along this path?"
His skin prickled with alarm and before he could stop himself, he snapped, "Why do you want to know?"
Shock flashed on her face and she immediately put some distance between them. "Jesus Christ," she said, looking hurt and angry. "I was just trying to be friendly. Never mind!" She sped up, putting distance between them, and Bucky slowly to a walk, torn between irritation that she'd put him in this awkward situation and the urge to punch himself in the face for being such an idiot. He'd automatically assumed she was staking out his route when she'd asked—he hadn't even considered that she might just be making small talk. When was he going to stop seeing things in such a murderous light?
Huffing, he spun around and marched right back home, now far too irritated to even run. He spent the rest of the day cooped up in his apartment, feeling extremely frustrated and unable to keep his mind on one lone thing. He started cooking something only to suddenly dump the entire pan in the sink (he'd clean up the mess later). He turned on a DVD only to realize thirty minutes in that he hadn't taken in a single second of it and then turned it off. He flipped aimlessly through a magazine before realizing he was reading it upside down. Then he hurled it across the room. It hit a random painting hanging on the wall and the painting fell to the ground, glass frame shattering. He groaned inwardly.
Then he realized he hadn't told Ari about Operation…whatever Natasha had called it. Defectors Assemble or whatever nonsense that had been. He called Ari and she picked up, sounding a bit of out of breath. "Soldier?"
"Hey." He hesitated. "Are you busy?"
"I'm just—um, getting ready," she said. He heard something shatter in the background and then she mumbled, "Oh, sh— That was my favorite nail polish! Give me a second." He waited patiently while he heard the sounds of Ari cleaning up her broken nail polish bottle. Finally she picked up and said, "Okay, I'm back! What were you saying?"
"I was asking if you were busy," he repeated.
"Well—sort of," she said. "I mean, I'm getting ready, but…we can talk."
"Can I come over?" he asked. "Just for a few minutes. There's something I need to tell you."
There was a strange silence over the phone and he wondered if she'd put it down again but then she suddenly said, "Okay! Sure." Her voice sounded oddly bright and he wondered if he'd missed out on something. Or perhaps she was just being a girl and he clearly didn't understand women, so…
"Okay," he said, hating that he felt uncertain. He'd never felt this awkward around Ari before—the two of them were strangely at ease with each other, considering they'd only known each other for a year (though saving each others' lives probably helped with their bonding)—but now she was going on a date with someone and he was reminded that Ari had a life outside of him and SHIELD and it just felt…weird. "I'll…be right over then."
He changed out of his workout clothes into normal clothes and then rode his motorcycle over to Ari's place. She worked at the clinic for free and SHIELD paid a horrendous salary—if it could even be called that—but she had money saved up from working as a nurse for two years and that was enough to get a small little apartment in a decent part of town. She probably could have gotten a bigger one had she not blown a ton of money on her new BMW. Whenever he wondered if she was ever going to need money, she would shrug and grin and say she wasn't worried. "After all," she would say, "I have a degree and nurses are always needed. I can get a job whenever I want."
That was more than he could say for himself, unfortunately. SHIELD was the only place where his talents could be employed without him resorting to evil or being used as a tool. Though SHIELD was still probably using him as a tool as well.
He knocked on Ari's apartment door and no one answered. He knocked harder and he heard her shout, "Come in!" so he shrugged and entered. She was nowhere to be seen when he stepped in but he could hear the sink in her bathroom running so he leaned against a wall and waited, looking around.
Ari's apartment was very small but no one could call it cramped, the way she'd decorated it. Everything was sleek and silver and white and black, polished surfaces and clean lines with neat green little plants and glass and chrome accents. Very minimal, very modern, very light. He sometimes wondered if she was subconsciously trying to free herself from the old-fashioned clutter and faded florals of her parent's house—the house she'd been trapped in for so long—but he still felt anxious asking touchy-feely emotional questions like that out of the blue. So he just didn't.
"Coming," Ari sang from somewhere near her bathroom or bedroom. He heard the click-clacking noise of her heels and then she appeared. "Just finishing up my makeup," she said, tucking something away into a small purse. Then she looked up and posed, one hand on her waist, the other thrown out. "What do you think?"
His mouth had gone dry. She was wearing a lilac floaty-looking button-down sleeveless blouse tucked into a high-waisted white swingy miniskirt. She wore nude heels and a stack of silver bracelets glimmered on her thin right wrist. Her hair was up in a loose, messy bun with wavy bits—she must have done that herself because her hair was stick-straight—artfully hanging around her face. He didn't really understand makeup but her inner eyes were silvery and her lashes were dark and her lips were light pink.
Basically, she looked amazing. His chest felt tight as he said, "You look—uh, incredible. You look great."
"Really?" she asked, smiling.
He coughed self consciously. "Yup. He'll be very happy. Uh, whatever his name is."
"Tim," she said. She paused and then she said casually, "Hey…there's a zip at the back of this shirt and I couldn't pull it all the way up—could you help?"
"Come here," he said. She moved toward him and turned around, slightly holding her hair up and out of the way, bending her slender neck slightly. He hesitated. She smelled like roses as usual. Then he quickly zipped the zip all the way up and took a hasty step back before he did something incredibly stupid and friendship-ruining. "There you go," he said in a determinedly pleasant voice.
"Thanks," she said, stepping away as well. "So…" She took a deep breath. "I'm done. Thank god. Wow, I feel like I haven't done this in ages. I'm rusty at this game," she joked. "I'm like an old lady spinster."
She certainly didn't look like an old lady spinster but he played along. "If you're an old lady spinster, what would that make me?" He raised his eyebrows. "Rip van Winkle?"
She let out a peal of laughter. "Oh my god, that is perfect!"
He couldn't help but grin. Why was it so easy with Ari and so difficult with others? He thought back to the woman he'd met on his run earlier and couldn't help but grimace. Ari caught it with her sharp eyes and asked, "What's the matter?" so he sighed and told her.
Ari patted his arm sympathetically. "You're still recovering," she said gently. "Give yourself time. Normal amnesiacs and people who have been through trauma—it can take them years and years to get to a normal place. And what you went through…" Her eyes seemed to darken a shade and her lips pressed flat together. "Was beyond a normal person's hell. So seriously, don't beat yourself up about it. You'll get there. Besides"—she raised her eyebrows—"that lady sounds kind of like a weirdo. Who disturbs people on their runs? Come on. That's a fitness no-no."
Bucky wasn't actually sure if it was a "fitness no-no" but he sure as hell appreciated Ari telling him it was.
"So," she said. "What was it that you wanted to tell me?"
He launched into the same small speech he'd given Steve and Natasha, explaining that he felt like they were useless and tied down by too many rules when they worked with SHIELD, and that he basically wanted to…go "rogue" as Natasha had put it. The wording made him sound like a criminal but there wasn't really a better way he could explain it so he went with that phrase. Then he explained how Steve and Natasha had agreed to go rogue with him…and that he wanted Ari to join him. Obviously. It wouldn't be a rogue mission with Aritamis Madden.
He expected Ari to be enthusiastic or shocked or something after his speech but instead, she said, "That's…what you wanted to tell me?"
"Uh…yeah," he said, feeling bewildered. "What else would I…?
"Oh," she said. Bucky wasn't sure if it was a trick of the light—or if he was going temporarily blind (he was already going temporarily insane, what was one more issue, right?)—but he could have sworn that he saw a shadow of disappointment on Ari's face. Just for one small second. Then it was gone and she was smiling again, eyes bright blue. He was never positive how eyes as blue as that could exist. "Well, I'm not going to say no," she said, raising one eyebrow and smirking. "We've done it before and we can do it again."
"Yeah—we can," he said, still feeling unsettled by what he thought he'd seen on her face. "That was what I was…thinking…"
Ari looked down at her feet. "Well…um, you should probably go because—Tim will probably be here soon enough and, you know." She laughed lightly. "It would be kind of awkward if he picked me up and saw another guy in my apartment. I'd look like a real floozy then."
"Yeah, sure," he agreed mechanically. "Have fun, then. See you…soon. We'll need to start planning our next moves."
"You're the sergeant," she said, smiling. She saluted him and he chuckled and then left, feeling very weird on the inside. He felt like someone had spun him around wildly a hundred times and then sent him walking, staggering, falling over. Everything felt wrong but he had no idea what to grasp at first to fix—fix what? There wasn't even a defined problem to fix. There was no target to shoot, no mission to accomplish, no defined goal in mind. He didn't work well without defined goals. It was that had saved him a year ago—his goals of meeting Steve and then getting his memories back—and now it was the same very thing that was making him flounder.
He made his way back to his apartment and just as he was walking through, sighing and thinking about how he was going to pass the evening, his phone beeped with a text. He checked and saw that it was from Natasha. All she'd send was an address, nothing else. His heart leaped slightly. Hoping that she'd sent him the location of some mini mission he could go on tonight and take his mind off of things—even if it was just beating down some low-life drug dealers across town—he Googled the address.
It was the address of a Cheesecake Factory across town.
Three seconds later he was dialing Natasha and furiously hissing, "What do you think you're doing?" before she'd even had a chance to speak.
She let out a low chuckle and said, "What's the matter, Barnes?"
"Natasha!" he barked. "What. Are. You. Doing?"
She chuckled, low and throaty. "Helping a fella out. Why, what are you doing? I assume sitting around and moping like a brooding ex-assassin with no balls?"
His face colored. "Shut up!"
"Very eloquent," she said.
"Natasha!" he shouted. He covered his eyes with his cybernetic hand. "Why would you—why would you send that to me? Now I—" Now I'll be so tempted to go spy on her. Christ. It had been one thing when he hadn't known which Cheesecake Factory this Tim was taking her. There were at least a dozen in D.C. and he certainly wasn't going to waste his time checking out each one like some creeper just to spy on her. But now…knowing which one she was at…
"And how do you know which—which one he's taking her to anyway?" he spluttered.
"Really, Barnes? You're asking me how I know things?"
"Oh, of course, I forgot I was talking to the great Natalia Romanova," he said sarcastically. There was a painful silence and he suddenly felt a twinge of guilt. Natasha didn't like being called by her Russian name because it brought back painful memories—or so she said anyway. He wasn't clear on what her past was but he knew she'd been brutally trained and conditioned by some organization in Russia during her youth. That was all he knew but he could tell by the dead look in Natasha's eyes the few times she mentioned it—dark things had happened to her. It almost seemed like what had happened to him…coincidentally in Russia as well.
They were both Soviet survivors.
"Sorry," he said after a moment. "That was an asshole thing to say."
"Anyway," she said pointedly. "I hope now you'll take some action, Barnes, instead of just sitting around like a sulky little boy."
"Natasha, I told you, I want to respect her privacy," he said in irritation. "She's allowed to date whoever the hell she wants! What good does spying on her do? Besides make me look like a creepy, controlling psycho?"
"Slow down, cowboy. I admit, it'd be fun to send you spying on her because you're clearly jealous as hell—"
"Natasha—"
"—but the main reason I'm sending you is to keep her safe."
Bucky paused. "What?"
"You know what," she said calmly. "Don't play stupid with me. You may be able to fool Steve and Ari but you're talking to a master of lies right now."
Bucky narrowed his eyes and absentmindedly bit his lip, thinking hard. Natasha was right. Though most of his feelings had been those of shock and jealousy, mingling in between those green feelings had been worries and fear. On a basic level, Ari had even admitted that she hadn't been on a date in a very long time—so what if she let her guard down to some creep? He recognized this fear was a little more unfounded because no matter how long it had been since Ari had dated, she was still a grown woman capable of taking care of herself. However, a deeper fear lay within him…HYDRA. Or some other evil. He couldn't tell if this was him just being wildly paranoid (the way he had been this morning on his run) or overly-watchful, but he couldn't shake the fear that there was a possibility—no matter how slight—that this Tim wasn't who he said he was. Ari was no Steve Rogers—meaning there wasn't a huge target on her back—but any HYDRA spy worth their salt would know by now that she was a new SHIELD agent (no matter how low-level or unskilled) who was close to the Black Widow, Falcon, Captain America…and the Winter Soldier.
The crown jewel. The glorious asset. Someone who people would still either like to get back, use as a bargaining tool, or simply vanish from existence altogether.
"You don't think I'm being paranoid?" he asked skeptically. "Her friends from the clinic set them up. It's a blind date. What are the chances?" He realized he was hoping Natasha would talk him out of his fears.
But of course she didn't—she was the one who'd brought them up in the first place. "The chances are slim," she admitted, "but do you really want to take that risk? Ari's face is out there. Her name is out there. And—don't take offense now—she's not really an important target at all on her own. But she's close to you, Barnes. Anyone with eyes, anyone who may have been watching and waiting, would know this in a heartbeat. And you are an important target. She could easily be used to bait you, use you as a tool, trap you… The possibilities are endless."
And horrifying. Bucky's mind was suddenly filled with images of Ari being tortured or dangled over a pool with a shark swimming below it (he'd just watched Deep Blue Sea the other night; a ridiculously stupid movie but now he had sharks on the brain). She'd been taken from him once before by Hoffman, used to bait him. He'd risen to the bait and successfully gotten her back that time—but the next time someone tried to hurt Ari to get to him, would he be as successful in getting her back unharmed?
He groaned. "Damn you. Damn you, Nat."
"You're using my nickname, which means you're not mad anymore." She laughed. "I knew you'd come around. You're a solid guy, Barnes, and you do the right thing. It's in the history books and it's at your core."
"Gee, I didn't know you had these feelings for me," he said in a low voice. "I'm flattered, really, I am, but I think a certain archer may have his eyes on you—"
"Oh, shut up," she said a bit rudely. "Mind your own business."
He smiled grimly. "Hit a nerve, have we?"
"Goodbye, Barnes." She hung up.
He slammed his phone down on the table and leaned back against the sofa, groaning. What was he going to do now? Go check on Ari…or not?
Not, he decided. This is stupid. Her date isn't going to be HYDRA. For god's sake. I'm just rationalizing unhealthy and stupid behavior.
Then again… HYDRA was still out there—this much they knew for sure. And even if it wasn't HYDRA that was the threat, other bad people existed out there (like that idiot McGuire). People who knew about him, who wanted to use him, who wanted to destroy him. And Natasha was right—he had a target on his back. A bright red, bloody target. If someone wanted to get to him, getting to Ari was a surefire way to do it. It went even further. Even if Bucky wasn't the target, Steve could be. Bucky had a feeling there were tons of people out there who wanted Captain America eliminated—and Ari was his friend.
He tapped his foot nervously in a steady rhythm, staring out the window. Was he being psychotic and merely trying to rationalize it? Or was there actually a threat of danger and he was tangling it up with his normal human life? Being a person was so hard. There were so many factors to consider. So many consequences for actions. He couldn't just load his pistols and throw himself into battle. He couldn't just follow people willy-nilly and do whatever he wanted to get rid of any danger to him or his team. But as much as he was a person, he was still also a trained assassin—and he also couldn't let someone he loved get hurt.
Oh, to hell with it.
He leaped to his feet and headed for his bedroom. Time to go on a stakeout.
He began to change into dark clothes but suddenly realized that he would actually stand out more if he did that. People tended to notice those dressed in all-black and Ari's eyes would definitely spot him if he did that. He had to blend into the crowds of normal people. He threw open his closet doors so hard one of them actually fell off. He stared at it for a moment before shrugging and digging deep into his closet to find a pair of cargo shorts and a sky blue sweatshirt. Just looking at the clothes made him want to vomit—he lived in either combat fatigues, dark sweats, or workout clothes—but he had to look like a normal guy today.
He tied on a pair of white Converse he'd never worn before (Ari had tried and tried and tried to convince him that the shoes were cool but he couldn't get over how awful the padding and soles were; they were the worst shoes you could find yourself in if you needed to run for your life…or chase someone down) and tied his hair up into a bun, pulling on a brown baseball cap for good measure so all his hair was covered. Then he shrugged and shaved as well. Might as well look totally different.
When he was done, he surveyed himself in the mirror, looking at himself this way and that. If someone just glanced at him, all they would see was a normal guy in normal clothing. It was perfect. What was even more perfect was how many pockets the cargo shorts had. He slipped a few choice weapons into the pockets—enough to ensure he was well-armed but not so many that his pockets sagged—and then tucked a small gun into his waistband. He wasn't sure about the gun laws in D.C. but it didn't matter because he didn't have an official gun license anyway. Had it been the old days where SHIELD had power and full government backing, he was sure he would have been easily excused for carrying a gun without a license (or perhaps they would have just given him a license) but now that SHIELD was barely hanging on by a thread…
No. It wouldn't do to have someone see his gun and cause a ruckus.
He Googled the address of the Cheesecake Factory where Ari supposedly was at and once he had memorized the route, he slipped his phone into his pocket and left. Before he left, he very strategically arranged several objects in the apartment. He did this every week: picked new patterns to leave objects in, seemingly random to someone who didn't know better. That way, if someone ever broke in, he would know.
He headed down the stairs, looking at his feet, but before he could safely escape out the door, he nearly ran into Kristen. "Oh, fancy seeing you, stranger!" she said, chuckling.
Now he had no choice but to respond. He looked up at her and gave a hesitant smile. "Hello…Kristen." She wore a black pantsuit and had a few strands of sun-streaked blond hair coming out of her high pony. Clearly she was on her way home from work.
"Whenever I see you, you're always rushing somewhere," she said, grinning. "And at the weirdest hours too! If I were sixteen I'd guess that you were the vampire in my paranormal romance but…I'm not sixteen, I'm twenty-six." She laughed.
Bucky knew what she was referencing (Ari had made him read Twilight finally, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, and he'd nearly thrown the book at the wall several times at the redundancy of the whole thing; with acute discomfort, he suddenly realized he was acting kind of stalkerish…like Edward Cullen)—but considering that she'd essentially just joked that he was her Edward Cullen, he didn't know what to say. Was she joking? Was he supposed to crack a joke back? Or was she being serious? Was she interested in him?
He had taken too long to respond. Kristen's smile faltered and she took a step back, looking apologetic. "Sorry, you probably didn't get the reference," she said. "It was a book a lot of girls read a few years ago. I was actually too old for it even then, but… Never mind. I'm keeping you."
"Uh—" He couldn't argue with her there—she was keeping him—but he didn't want to anger the only neighbor who was friendly to him, even if the friendliness sort of freaked him out. "No, you're—I mean—that's interesting," he finished lamely.
Kristen smiled. "I'll tell you more about it someday. Now go! Shoo!" She laughed as he smiled hesitantly one more time and then left, instinctively turning around as he left to wave goodbye to her. She waved goodbye through the glass door of their building.
He found the Cheesecake Factory easily and then spent a good few minutes pacing in the parking lot, trying to talk himself out of this madness. He felt so torn. He didn't know which part of him was being more real—the part that admitted this was just possessive madness…or the part that genuinely worried about someone hurting Ari to get to him or Steve. After all they'd been through—after the things they did on a routine basis—wasn't it possible that Ari was being watched or followed? She was certainly an easier target than him or Steve. Sure, Bucky had been giving her fighting training and she could disarm an average-sized man or woman with no fighting experience…but she was no match against trained HYDRA strike agents. Or anyone else even barely lethal.
Finally he noticed a family of five was giving him weird looks as they hurried away from him and he realized one of these paranoid suburban types was going to call the cops on the weird guy pacing in the parking lot. So he went inside the restaurant.
The place was packed. He didn't go out to eat much at all so he didn't know the popular places in town but this appeared to be one of them. Delicious smells assaulted his nose and the place was pretty noisy and loud due to the sheer amount of people inside. The waiting area was absolutely filled with people. The lighting was very dim as well. All of these things worked to his advantage.
He skirted past the hostess's stand and deftly navigated his way through a steady flow of people and waiters, trying not to draw any attention to himself, scanning the room for Ari. A glimmer of silver caught his eye and he saw that she was sitting in a small corner booth at the far end of the room, right by the window. He slowly drifted forward and leaned against a low wall, trying to look casual but also stay out of her line of vision. Unfortunately her face was sort of facing his direction and the guy's back was to him, so he couldn't even see what he looked like. He had broad shoulders, however, and wore a pale blue shirt and seemed to have short, neatly-trimmed light brown hair.
He scanned what he could of the man, trying to assess if there was any danger, but the guy wore khaki shorts (Bucky wondered if that was some sort of date fashion faux pas—he'd have to ask Natasha about it) and it was clear that he had no weapons of any sort on him. Bucky bit his lower lip and twisted his hands inside his sweatshirt pocket. He was an idiot. This had been so stupid. He'd done it for her safety—but he'd done it for selfish reasons too. He turned to go but the sound of Ari's laugh made him look back up. She was shaking with silent laughter, her head tilted back slightly, eyes squeezed shut. She seemed to glow. A cold fist clenched Bucky's heart and he felt paralyzed. Before he could go, Ari opened her eyes and looked up—and her eyes seemed to widen as she stared in Bucky's direction.
He vanished.
He was good at it and this was an emergency. He turned and whirled into the crowd, quickly maneuvering his way through people, keeping his head tilted down. As soon as he made it outside, he sprinted in the opposite direction of the windows where her table was. He knew what was coming next and he had to be away from the sounds of the restaurant for his cover not to be blown. He sprinted down the street as fast as he could and lucky for him, he was a super soldier and when he wanted to be fast, he was very fast—inhumanly fast. He skidded into the first alley he saw and run down that as well, skidding left into a smaller alley and then leaning against the wall. He took a moment to pace his breathing so that it was normal and then pulled it his phone—which, sure enough, showed that Ari was calling him.
He answered it with a casual, "Hey."
"Uh—hi," she said, sounding cautious. "Um…are you…out, by any chance?"
"Yeah, I am," he said, making his voice sound completely open and honest. "Why?"
"I just—I thought I saw you?" She sounded confused and wary, as if she didn't want to be right.
He paused for the right amount of time and then said, interjecting a note of confusion into his voice, "You saw me? Uh—where? Like…you drove past me? Wait, is your date over?"
"I—um—no," she said. "It's not, I'm calling from the bathroom—look, don't call me crazy, but I thought I saw you here, at the restaurant, at Cheesecake Factory. Are you…were you here?"
"Uh, no," he said, making sure his voice sounded adequately puzzled. "I'm just out taking a walk to clear my head, Natasha called and sort of pissed me off."
"Why?" she pressed. She still sounded cautious, as if she wasn't sure whether to believe him or not.
"Remember that girl that tried to…uh, I guess flirt with me today?" he said. "While I was on a run? And I made a fool out of myself? I bit her head off like a jerk and then ran away. I told Natasha, which was obviously a big mistake."
"Oh," Ari said. Then she was silent.
"I promise, I wasn't at your restaurant," he said, letting out a small chuckle. "You probably saw some other guy who looked like me. Hey, get back to your date! Stop being rude, Ari!"
"I'm not!" she protested, but she was laughing now too. "I was just—it was weird, okay? Sorry. I must seem like such a psycho. Sorry! Ignore me. Carry on being pissed off at Natasha. Tim's waiting, so…"
"Yeah, get back to Tim," he said, ignoring how tight his smile felt to himself.
"Okay, I'll talk to you later," she said and then she hung up.
He leaned against the brick wall and closed his eyes, thanking the heavens that he'd parked his motorcycle in the farthest corner of the lot (since finding parking anywhere else had been impossible). Next time he'd have to be more careful…
His eyes flew open. Next time? There won't be a next time, he promised fiercely to himself. He'd spied on Ari to dampen the jealousy burning inside—but it hadn't helped. It had only made things worse, seeing her enjoy herself with some other guy. And he felt wretched and disgusting for lying to her and tricking her and violating her privacy.
This wasn't who he was.
This wasn't the kind of guy he wanted to be.
This wasn't what he was going to do.
From now on, if he wanted to protect Ari, he was going to be upfront about it—either that or accept that Ari would spent time away from him and that she would be in danger then but she could protect herself and he couldn't possibly be with her every second of her life. She was her own person. Just like he was his own person.
He went to retrieve his motorcycle and go home. Despite the turmoil he felt inside, he somehow felt a little lighter inside as he rode him with the soft golden streetlamps lighting his way against a violet evening. With every new decision about himself that he made, he felt like he was figuring out his own puzzle just a bit more.
A/N: Bucky can be so clueless sometimes. I'm sorry! If I'm frustrated with him, I can't imagine how others feel, haha. But those are human emotions! They're messy and complicated! At least Bucky is admitting he's feeling things, right?
Also, sorry for any delays. Not only am I busy with life, but I am writing SIX stories. Can you believe that? Two are The Original Three and The Second Trial—but there's also two more about Bucky and two about Steve. I'm not sure which will survive and make the final cut but currently all are being worked on, some more than others. We'll see which become my next stories…
