A/N: Thanks for all of the follows and for those who have reviewed! I am glad that y'all like it! I am a sucker for Bucky Barnes. I hope you enjoy this next chapter. I liked writing for August in this chapter. I love the idea of a character who doesn't know how to do all of the super hero things and has to ask questions. Happy reading!
The smell in the air mirrored the juxtaposition of the predicament I was currently in. I took in a deep breath smelling the mix of salt, musk, antiseptic, and clean leather; a contrast, just like me. I could hear the pounding of someone's feet against the roving fake sidewalk of the treadmill. The faint clank of metal against metal as someone literally pumped iron was jarring to my senses. Here I am in a roided-out gym, preparing to get in shape with a superhero. He, the salt and musk; me, the antiseptic and leather. I felt out of place surrounded by people who screamed in shape, hardcore, and badass. My mind whirled and twirled trying overcome my sense of intimidation. I had to remind myself that there is a place for antiseptic and leather in a gym; I am not worthless because fighting isn't something natural to me. Steve Rogers sweet smile seemed to put me at ease... a little.
"So Cap, I gotta warn you. I am not in the best shape of my life right now and I tend to be clumsy," I declared as I stretched out my calf muscles.
Thankfully, my bruises were healing and I had been cleared to start the basics with Steve. Rocking my black t-shirt that said Curves on Fleek and some spandex running pants, didn't make me feel anymore confident.
"Clint said that you would say that. I think you underestimate yourself August. You held your own the other night and according to you file you regularly attend yoga and Zumba classes... which I admit I had to look up," Steve was trying to make me feel better. I laughed at his attempt and replied,
"Zumba classes and yoga do not make me Natasha Romanoff, but I appreciate your optimism."
As I stretched out my arms, Steve asked me to go over things that I remembered concerning self- defense.
When I was 16 years old, before I was abducted, and especially after, Clint had taught me general rules of thumb to implement to keep myself out of trouble.
"Clint said elbows are a great weapon, go for the knee because they are hard to defend and there is a nerve right next to the shin that will make someone double over in pain…. Um anything in your purse can be a weapon. And a good thwack to the ear will disorient your attacker." I listed thinking back to those days in the safe house.
"All great points. First things first, prevention is the best self defense technique. Be aware of your surroundings, as I am sure Clint has taught you," I nodded.
Steve stepped into my personal space. I looked up taking in his prominent jaw line.
Jaws are so underrated. Who new that Captain America had such a nice jaw bone?
"Now if someone is going to attack you in close proximity, use that to your advantage. Although you are short, you are probably quicker than your attacker."
I tried to refocus and calm my raging hormones.
Steve walked me through several moves showing me what to do if someone was to grab me by the wrist or arm. We practiced over and over again. I was starting to break a sweat, struggling with some moves.
"Muscle memory, Gus. That's what it is all about," He kept repeating.
We paused for a water break as more people started to come in. Most were employees of Stark Industries; one was someone who looked familiar.
"So, Cap, are you going to introduce me to this lovely young lady," the tall black man said with a huge, genuine smile.
"Sam Wilson, this is August Mckay. She will be staying with us for a while," Steve said.
"I would shake your hand, but I am extremely gross and sweaty right now," I laughed wiping sweat from my brow, emphasizing my point. I wonder if other people could smell me. I grimaced on the inside.
"Still beautiful though," he complimented with a wink.
"Oh, I like you Sam!" I giggled a wide smile gracing my face.
"I am refreshing August on basic self defense. She is doing a great job," Steve commented taking another sip of water. The jerk hadn't even broken a sweat. I kind of hate him right now.
"You don't have to lie, Steve," I knew that Steve was going way easy on me.
"Show me what you got," Sam stated as he stepped towards me.
"Here's a scenario- what would you do if Sam attacked you from behind," Steve offered.
"Um, elbow to the solar plex, head butt, and stomp on his foot?" I questioned.
"Let's try it!" Sam came at me and I went through the motions.
"Good!" Steve stated.
"I have a question. What would I do if my arms where pinned?"
"You can still do the foot stomp and if your attacker is male his groin would be vulnerable to attack," Sam walked me through the motions. I couldn't help but blush at his close proximity.
"Don't actually hit me in the crouch," he laughed.
People started coming over and offering pointers and tips creating different scenarios. Although, it was hard work, I was actually enjoying myself. I felt like I was learning.
As people came and went, I practiced so many different techniques. As a rather large ex-shield agent stepped up to watch, it inspired me to ask,
"How do I land punches and kicks on someone so much… bigger than me?"
"Striking is not necessarily about punching or kicking. It's about throwing your body weight strategically at someone. Even if you are on the smaller side, focus on leveraging your weight to cause the most damage," came the deep, husky voice of James Buchannan Barnes.
He stepped towards me and said,
"Get into your stance, but put your arms behind your back."
His voice made me break out in goose bumps. I looked at Steve in confusion, but he nodded his head giving me the okay. I stepped into a boxer's stance and put my arms behind my back. Bucky circled around me, making me slightly nervous. His booted foot kicked my right leg out slightly. He then stood in front of me in his stance with his arms behind him.
"Now bend your knees and throw your body weight at me, aim so that your shoulder lands in my solar plexus," I hesitated. Is this safe?
"You're not going to hurt me… and I am not going to hurt you," he stated with a stern resolution. I nodded and came at him. When my body hit his, he swayed back, but his feet stayed relatively planted.
"That the best you got?" he taunted. I glared at him and tried again, this time with all my might. This time, he was knocked back a little.
"Good. Again." We practiced that drawing even more of a crowd. Apparently, lots of people were interested in seeing a 5'1" southern girl try and beat up the Winter Soldier.
"This time do the same thing expect use your forearm to knock me in the throat," He ordered.
"Like this?" I asked as I lifted my arm.
"Just like that," Steve commented. I had almost forgotten that he was there. It was hard not to get lost in Bucky's eyes.
"When you come at me, focus your body weight behind the impact point. Put your full weight behind that forearm," Bucky still had his arms behind his back, but he gave me a challenging look.
I came at him with all I had and slammed my forearm into his throat. He stumbled back and then he made a noise low in his throat. Suddenly, he stepped towards me arms coming out to swing. Steve, immediately threw his body in between us. Bucky stopped and shook his head as if shaking away the cobwebs of his past. Everyone was dead quiet. I could see a look of shame come over Bucky's face.
"That was awesome! Sam, did you see? I did it!" I jumped up and down and laughed trying to break the tension. Sam, sensing what I was doing, cheered along with me.
"Look at you, you badass!" he picked me up under the armpits and spun me around. That seemed to ease the tension in the crowd. He set me down and I saw Bucky and Steve exchanging hushed words. Bucky had control over himself, so I stepped towards him a bit bashfully.
"Thanks Bucky! You, too Steve! I feel like I learned a lot today. I am exhausted though. Sam, you may have to carry me outta here," I joked.
The crowd dissipated and along with them, Bucky. Knowing what I knew about him, I assumed that he was beating himself up. Steve turned towards me putting on his most dashing smile. I wasn't sure if he was trying to reassure me or himself.
After a long, hot shower, I knew that it was unfortunately time to check out my final assignments from my professors. Opening my MacBook, I realized that if I was actually going to be productive, being in my bedroom was probably not the best choice. I tended to fall asleep which is not the optimal decision when trying to write three final essays. I petted Cilantro who seemed to be loving the giant plush bed and gave him a cheddar kitty treat. Grabbing my notebooks and textbooks, I went in search of relaxing place to work.
With some searching I stumbled upon a rather large balcony that had a patio table and umbrella. You could see rolling green grass and the edge of a forest. This felt more like the south than some nameless place in New York. After situating myself, I opened my email, reading the assignments.
"Oh this is going to suck, big time."
Two hours later, I had finished the majority of my first paper which was all about PTSD. I couldn't help but think about Bucky. On a basic level, that was his biggest issue; however, everything about Bucky did not seem.. basic. But then again, I am not basic either.
What if I could pull the memories of pain and replace them with happiness? Or maybe, he just needs to deal with those repressed memories head-on first? I had never tried to pull memories before, but memories are linked to emotion, so maybe with some trial and error, some good could come of my powers.
"Whatcha doing worrywart?" came Tony's voice from behind me. I jumped a little not realizing he was out there. I gave him a look at the nickname.
"You look like you are worried about something, love," He explained.
"I love it when you call me love. Have you told Pepper about your undying feelings for me yet?"
His laughter barked around me as he pulled out the chair my feet were resting on. My feet hit the ground with a thud. I glared at him in mild irritation.
"No, I think I am going to leave that out the next time we talk."
"Probably a good choice. She is not someone I want hating me, I have some serious respect for that woman. Anyone who can put up with you is a saint in my book. Jesus, must have blessed that woman with unfathomable patience."
"Well, actually, we are kind of on the outs. Her patience has been warring thin. I still love her, but she is pretty angry at me," he disclosed as he placed his feet in my lap. I pulled a face and shoved his nasty shoes off of me.
"What type of angry?" I inquired.
Relationships always interested me. Majoring in psychology will do that to a person. Also, due to my constant moving and um.. skin condition it was hard for me to personally hold a relationship.
"What do you mean? What type of angry?" His eyebrows quirked up behind his sunglasses.
"Well generally there are three types of anger- soft anger and apathy, mood state anger, and intense hatred. Each category contains several different subgenres. For example, soft anger could be characterized as indifferent, cranky, or critical. Where as Intense hatred could be outraged, violent, disgusted-" he interrupted my rant.
"Disgusted sounds about right," he tried to joke but I could tell that it was just a bravado he was putting on.
"I'm sorry Tony. Has she given you a list of grievances?"
"Yeah it's about six pages long. It just sucks because we still have feelings for each other, but I can't get my crazy ass shit together,"
"Well, relationships take time. There is no such thing as a perfect relationship especially when you are a self proclaimed billionaire, superhero. However, keeping the lines of communication open is the first step. Truly listen to her. Most women don't want men to fix their problems, they just want to be heard."
"So you aren't just a sweet southern belle, look who has got some brains on her." He laughed.
"I am the full package deal," I poked him in the chest.
"I see that. I guess you right. I tend to be my own worst enemy when it comes to relationships," He offered honestly.
"I understand that. Imagine trying to get the idea that you convinced someone to love you with your crazy skin out of your head. It's hard for me to trust that people actually care about me .I worry that I… That I projected them into loving me…"my voice caught a little as I got lost in old memories.
He whistled, "Never thought about that sweetheart. Seems like you've got your own issues."
"Speaking of issues, I have got to proofread this paper. One down, two to go! It just sucks that I won't be able to attend my graduation," that thought suddenly popped into my head. After all my hard work and money, I wasn't going to be able to don that cap and gown. Tony, noticing how my face fell, questioned, "Who said you can't go to your graduation?"
"Um.. everyone?" I looked at him as if he was stupid.
"Well, this billionaire, super hero is going to make sure you get your graduation." He promised as he patted me on my back.