lolo

thunderbolts!bucky x fugitive!reader summary: two years after bucky disappears from your life, you find him at your door - uninvited and full of regrets. except now, you're a fugitive, and he's an avenger. valentina wants you dead. bucky says he's here to help. but trust is a luxury you can't afford - and bucky may already be too late. ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── warnings/tags: angst, mild language, brief mentions of death, tension (they want each other so bad), lowk lovers to enemies to lovers again, mention of Valentina allegro defontaine (yes she's a warning), talks of assassination, longing, mistrust, trust issues, weapons, guns, attempted breaking & entering, uhhh I think thats all idk

a/n: This is my first time EVER posting a fic anywhere ever. I'm lowk so nervous cuz idk how to do this but ummm enjoy, I guess? and lmk if u want a part 2 heh ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

I am half-asleep and buried in my sofa when I hear it. 

The soft creak of footsteps along the hardwood floor just outside my apartment door. 

The quiet is intentional. Stealthy. The person in the hall did not want to be heard. They knew I was listening. Or, maybe they were the one listening. 

I imagine my intruder’s ear pressed against the door, maybe one hand picking a lock as gently as they can, assuming I am asleep at the late hour. 

But I never sleep. Not anymore. 

I am all but quick as I tilt my head towards the noise, watching as a silhouette dances under the crack of the door. It stretches along the tiles, illuminated only by the hall outside. I exhale through my nostrils. I am not worried. I knew he would be coming. 

There is a click and the knob shifts. Creaks downward, and my intruder presses forward. They must be an idiot if they thought I only had one lock.

I suppress an only slightly irritated groan, forcing myself up from the sofa and grabbing the gun holstered into my thigh. I didn’t even bother removing it before plopping onto the couch earlier. At least it was easy to grab, now that I needed it. 

I approach the door slowly, keeping my footsteps light, my breathing slow. I hold the gun to the door, watching as the silhouette shifts through the other side. 

Quietly, slowly, I unlock the door, and swiftly pull it open. On the other side stands the one man I had been dreading to see, his eyebrows raised in sudden surprise – although I knew very well that he’d been coming. 

“Barnes.” My tone is harsher than I expected as I narrow my eyes at him, the resentment I’d forced all the way down threatening to spill back up. An unexpected tide of emotion flares at the sight of him, and I feel my throat lodge with something unspeakable. 

It’s been two years. 

Bucky says my name wearily, his tone laced with regret and exasperation all in one. I can’t tell if he’s upset with me, or with himself. All I know is that it doesn’t matter, because he’s only here for one thing. “We need to talk.” 

I don’t know why I’m shocked. I know he’s here to discuss how I’ve become a fugitive to the government–how Valentina deFontaine hired me for my assassination skills, only to try to exterminate me in the process. She wanted her slate cleaned, and I was evidence of her dirty work. I’d later discovered this had been the case for many assassins working under her wing–I’d just been the one lucky enough to survive. 

“Were you trying to break in?” I ask, stepping back so he can enter. “Because all you needed to do was knock.” It’s a bitter attempt at a joke, mostly because I am not used to him being here. Not at all. Bucky scoffs. “You wouldn’t have opened the door if I hadn’t at least tried.” 

I walk over to the sofa and plop back down, leaning my head back on the cushions. “No.” I holster my gun. “I wouldn’t have.” 

Bucky takes a moment to look around. His gaze is sharp and calculating as it skims the room. His frame is large in the midst of the small, dark apartment, and suddenly the room feels tighter. I try not to shift in my seat – Bucky will know I’m already uncomfortable. 

Tonight, I need to show him I’m not afraid of Valentina's bullshit, or whatever garbage he’s delivered on her behalf. I know that he works for her, too. Or, more, she works for him. After the team of vigilantes became the serendipitous New Avengers, it wasn’t clear who was controlling who. All I know is that they’re on the same side. Which means Bucky and I are not. 

“How…” He starts, and I am already beginning to roll my eyes. “How have you been–?” “Don’t with the small talk.” I throw him an impatient look. “I get it. I haven’t seen you in two years, you’re a part of the New Avengers, and you’re here to take me in so Valentina can have me killed. No pleasantries. Is that so hard?” 

“Well, I figured, since it’s been a while–” Bucky says after a pause, although he doesn’t seem fazed. I cut him off again. “If you cared, you would have come earlier. Before the New Avengers.” This time, he gives me a look of resignation, as if he hadn’t had any choice. 

He did. 

“You’re right.” He says, placing a hand on his hip. “Valentina sent me here to bring you in.” 

I scoff. “What else is new?”

“But I’m not going to.” Bucky crosses his arms, and I glance up at him, unsurprised. “Oh? And why’s that?” 

“Because I want to talk. I’m not letting her get you killed for something she made you do.” I avoid his gaze, because I won’t let myself believe that he cares. I eye the TV screen across the sofa, dark, just like everything else in this apartment. Bucky’s reflection is a blurry patch of obsidian next to my own, and I can see the shape of his large arms folded over his chest, reserved and calm and patient. 

“She didn’t make me do anything, Bucky.” I say, watching the blank TV screen. “I’m the one who’s getting paid for doing the dirty work.” 

“I don’t think you had a choice. Or deserve to die because of it.” 

I snort. “Tell that to the government. There’s nothing you can do to stop Valentina from getting my ass wiped off the face of this planet.” 

Bucky is silent. But it’s not resolute. It’s calculating. 

He’s thinking. 

“What’re you up to? Some sort of super secret escape plan that will get me off of this continent and into the arms of the next Allegra deFontaine?”

“I know how to keep you safe. If you’ll let me.” Bucky says after a moment, completely ignoring what I just said. 

I sit up, although my interest is not piqued. After leaving me alone for two years, I’m not sure I know the supersoldier in front of me anymore. “I don’t need you to keep me safe. I need you to leave.” I say, eyeing him as I begin to stand. I want to reach his height – show him I’m better off alone. Although, if I’m being honest with myself, I know that’s a lie. “I can’t do that.” Bucky says lowly, glaring at me. “Valentina will find you just like I did. The next time an Avenger is at your door, it won’t be me standing there. It will be someone who wants to get their job done. Someone who is willing to get you killed.” 

I hold his gaze. “Valentina sent you. She’ll know you’ve hidden me somewhere if you come back empty-handed. This is a trap.” I state, taking a step closer. 

“Valentina doesn’t know I’m here.” He says, his voice a low rumble. My breathing falters. He came here without her knowing?

“That’s dangerous.” I tell him, and I don’t let the shock I feel show on my face. 

“It’s nothing new.” He says, and there’s a familiar glint in his eye. 

I eye him for a moment. I don’t know what he’s up to. His motives have long changed since I’d seen him last – with shorter hair, less lines on his face and those strong hands hidden beneath worn leather gloves. Now he wore no gloves – his metal hand bare, and I realize it’s because he’s no longer the low-profile ex-assassin trying to return to a normal life. Now, he’s an Avenger, and everyone knows who he is – there’s no reason to hide what everyone already knows is there. I briefly recall going to the store late at night only to see his face plastered onto a Wheaties box, my chest aching and my head pounding. It was the late hour, and his face was the last thing I had wanted to see.  Ironic how that hadn’t been the case only a few years prior. 

“Why do you care if I’m killed?” I ask finally, crossing my arms defensively. “It’s not like you cared before. Before you went ahead and became the one and only Congressman James Buchanan Barnes. Didn’t even care to call or drop by uninvited until you needed something from me. Is that all I am to you, Barnes?” I glare up at him. “A convenient asset? A means to an end? Just some weapon you can rely on when all the others are old and rusty?” Bucky’s throat bobs as though lodged with everything he wants to say – as if he can’t choose which one to spew first. He exhales through his nose before speaking. “You know you’re so much more than that to me.” He says, his voice softer. He doesn’t bother with the excuses. Doesn’t even flinch at my accusations. He knows what he’s done. And that makes it so much harder to hate him. 

I don’t say anything. I’m too frustrated.

He continues anyway. “What will you do when Valentina finds you? Honestly?” 

I look away, studying the door. I wish he would leave. I wish he had never come through it in the first place. “Fight them off. Find someplace else to stay.” 

Bucky almost snorts. “Like that’ll work.” 

“Really? Why not?” I know he’s right. He knows I know. 

He grows exasperated, but his voice does not rise. “They know where you are. Val’s probably going to send Yelena or Walker over here in the dead of night–”

“–Funny, that’s exactly what you’re doing.” I comment. 

“–and the next thing you know, there’ll be a bullet in your head. And even if you do manage to fight them off–” he basically taunts me with the absurdity of my own words. “–it won’t be hard for them to find you again. It didn’t even take me twenty-four hours.”

My arms tighten around my chest. Bucky’s words hang in the air. I was an idiot to think I was ever safe to begin with. “So, then what?” I ask, because it seems a little hopeless when he puts it that way. “What would you do if I agreed to… whatever plan you have for me?”  

Bucky’s brows twitch, as though he had expected even more defiance than I had already given him. “My plan is to keep you safe. But you have to trust me. If you stay here, you’ll die.” He says my name after that, a gentle plea, as if to convince me to listen, to let him show me that he really cares. 

I take a moment to savour the sound of it on his lips without the harshness he had carried with him when he’d said it before. Then I process what he’s said after that – and, again, I know he’s right. It’s disgusting. I hate admitting that he’s right. It makes me want to throw up in my mouth. 

“I know you don’t trust me,” he says, stepping forward. There’s a softness to him now that I’ve finally caved, his eyes furrowed with more concern than frustration, his shoulders less tense now that he’s convinced me to come with him. 

“I never said that.” I say, although it’s harsh and bitter and filled with everything I never got to say to him. I may hate him, but I know Bucky. We’d spent so much time alongside each other before… everything… that it was hard not to know him. Not to trust him. 

Bucky’s face doesn’t shield the surprise at my words, although he is quick to recover. “I know someplace you can stay, somewhere safe and far away from here. But I can’t say more than that right now.” He tells me, his eyes scanning the apartment once more. “Pack your things.” He says quietly. “And I’ll tell you everything on the way.” 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── to be continued...