tugging on the drawstrings of his sweatpants while he moans lowly into your mouth. he shuts the door with one arm while the other holds you up against him. he knows you don’t like to touch communal spaces, no matter how clean your gym may be. so jason holds you up against him, pulling your weight back into him over and over. moving your hips until you’re grinding back against him while his hands on your hips keep you firmly planted there. though he second guesses himself still and he watches you intensely.

“are you sure you’re good ma? we can go home.”

you shake your head vigorously, tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck to bring his mouth closer to yours. “i’m not waiting jay.”

when you fucked like this, it was an out of body experience.

mostly because jason held your weight and his own like no problem and there was nothing to dwell on but how it felt. he places a large palm over your mouth when he guides his length through your soaked folds. dragging it up and teasing before pushing inside like he belonged. he let you moan into his hand and watched your eyes roll back in your skull. he shushes you by your ear.

“i know baby, i know.” groaning out quietly as he prods to fit himself in. “fuck— you’re so tight.”

tears prickling at your eyes already, you shake your head slowly while his hips make slow circling movements. “it’s cause you’re so big.”

jason smiles wide, hips thrusting a little meaner as he watches you try grind back against him, but still not to the hilt yet. “yeah? i’m big? but you like that shit don’t you?”

you’re nodding through the haze of pleasure, nails gripping his back as he continue fucking you through it slowly. not even fully inside, giving half just to pull it away. like being manhandled in the gentlest way possible. his strength unmatched and his body intentional, grinding his hips back into you over and over just feeding a few inches before taking it away. waiting to see you whisper in his ear that you need more, desperation evident.

then he waits until he sees the tears by your eyes start to dissipate before he gives you anymore. feeding another inch inside, his eyes drop to watch him split you open. though even after taking him before this, you weren’t used to his size.

“jay, it’s too much.” you gasp out, the feeling overwhelming. “it won’t fit.” too much and not enough at the same time.

“you’ve done this before ma.” jason tsks, “and said you could handle it. so you can take it hmm?”

his voice deliciously sensual already. you cave immediately. your lip trembles and you nod to let him continue. immediately you moan out loud enough for someone to hear and jason clasps his palm right over your mouth again. but he doesn’t coo you through it, his eyes stay piercing yours while his rhythm picks up and he pushes himself deeper. choking on his own spit at how you felt around him, his hold on you remained tight. he stays buried for a minute to stare at you, watch you catch your breath and adjust to his size.

“can you move please?” you’ll ask breathlessly and he’ll shake his head.

“remember what i said baby. deep breaths.” mimicking what he meant, he watches you. breathing deep and letting it out harshly. when you copy him he smiles. “there you go ma.”

then he shifts his hips again and you lose your train of thought. more intense than it usually is, every movement he makes feels like it drags through you. like you’re pulsating around him and he purposefully continues. but his hands still on your mouth when he realizes that you’re close and he pushes further like he could reach the depths of you. kissing your cervix effortlessly while he turns your head to bite at his shoulder. cause it only felt like the good kind of pain, he’d say.

jason would feel his high approaching and whisper sweet nothings in your ear, reminding you how much he loves you like he wasn’t taking you apart without breaking a sweat, yet. his flush tip with the perfect curve, hitting sweet spots everytime. it was a good idea to make you bite down on something.

groaning into your hair, he lifts you sloppily up and down on him, creating the perfect friction. he almost whines when you clamp around him and whisper that you can’t hold on.

he pants by your ear and his voice is huskier than when he’s not like this. “gonna fuck you so full. take you again when we’re home.”

entirely feral just as you are for him, jason caves and sputters when you wrap your legs around him tighter. he’s just as gone as you and you’re practically begging him to follow through on his words. when you finally let go, that’s when he does too. shooting rope after rope and painting you deep from the inside. like the most beautiful and precious thing he’d ever held, he holds you through it.

his hips with a mind of his own, continuing to thrust up into even when your legs wobble around him. he keeps one arm around your waist, firm and stable while the other rests on the wall to keep him upright as he loses himself completely. still sloppily pushing back into you when you whimper and drop your head against his. that’s when he finally stills and pulls your hair gently, just enough to see your face again.

then he kisses you with all the sweetness the world has to offer. he deepens it as he eases you with both arms now, and keeps your legs around him so you don’t fall. letting lips trail down to your neck to leave gentle bites.

when the door gets knocked on hard, the voice that followed made both of your faces burn. suddenly it occurs to both of you that anyone could’ve heard you. roy’s voice is whisper yelling but you’re sure anyone could’ve heard him with how thin the walls are.

“please stop fucking so i can change outta my trunks. i’m chafing over here.”

the drive home tonight is epically quiet. his voice a sound you wished you could hear but know you won’t because he needs a moment. peers using him as means to their own ends, seeing dollar signs where human emotion should be considered. bruce internalizes it. he pushes it all down until he snaps and it all falls on himself or his sons. you remind him of the fact when he scratches his chin too hard and the red mark remains. when you see the bags begin to form or the line between his brows. he lets you smooth it out with a gentle smile that melts your heart like ice.

now his hands find their way to you anyway, sitting warm as he grips your thigh. fingers idle on the bare skin, still as if in waiting. he catches your eye at the red light, watching as it illuminates your skin amid the dark gotham night. like a sterling path of light through his dark thoughts. you pretend not to notice him staring at the side of your face when you stare at the side mirror.

bruce doesn’t like to be disturbed when he’s deep in thought. he doesn’t enjoy company that is uninvited. but with his wife, his beautiful loving wife, bruce has immense patience.

no one else can gauge his moods in the way you can. no one else sees how anger is truly concern or how his indifference is really acceptance.

he’s a man who has put all his faith into a broken system that has beat down his loved ones time and time again. bruce has to believe that it’s all for something. that he did this for a reason behind superficial tangibility. he admits to you in the quiet moments that it’s for you. for his family. for the child he hopes you’ll let him give you. admits that you ground him and keep his sand.

for now, he keeps his palm on your knee, sliding up and down to your thigh like he’s soothing. though you know it’s more for him than for you. then he’s bringing your hand on your thigh up to his lips. he reminds you that even without words that he loves you bad, until it makes him devoid of anything else. delicate presses of his supple skin to the back of your hand before he nuzzles his nose against it. watching him completely turned now, you smile to yourself and graze his cheek with your freehand before he turns to kiss the palm of that one too.

existence was simply sufficient for him. your presence all he needed even when words failed to find him. though you’d also learned to love the silence and how his embrace was enough to warm your soul.

the drive home tonight is epically quiet. his voice a sound you wished you could hear but know you won’t because he needs a moment. peers using him as means to their own ends, seeing dollar signs where human emotion should be considered. bruce internalizes it. he pushes it all down until he snaps and it all falls on himself or his sons. you remind him of the fact when he scratches his chin too hard and the red mark remains. when you see the bags begin to form or the line between his brows. he lets you smooth it out with a gentle smile that melts your heart like ice.

now his hands find their way to you anyway, sitting warm as he grips your thigh. fingers idle on the bare skin, still as if in waiting. he catches your eye at the red light, watching as it illuminates your skin amid the dark gotham night. like a sterling path of light through his dark thoughts. you pretend not to notice him staring at the side of your face when you stare at the side mirror.

bruce doesn’t like to be disturbed when he’s deep in thought. he doesn’t enjoy company that is uninvited. but with his wife, his beautiful loving wife, bruce has immense patience.

no one else can gauge his moods in the way you can. no one else sees how anger is truly concern or how his indifference is really acceptance.

he’s a man who has put all his faith into a broken system that has beat down his loved ones time and time again. bruce has to believe that it’s all for something. that he did this for a reason behind superficial tangibility. he admits to you in the quiet moments that it’s for you. for his family. for the child he hopes you’ll let him give you. admits that you ground him and keep his sand.

for now, he keeps his palm on your knee, sliding up and down to your thigh like he’s soothing. though you know it’s more for him than for you. then he’s bringing your hand on your thigh up to his lips. he reminds you that even without words that he loves you bad, until it makes him devoid of anything else. delicate presses of his supple skin to the back of your hand before he nuzzles his nose against it. watching him completely turned now, you smile to yourself and graze his cheek with your freehand before he turns to kiss the palm of that one too.

existence was simply sufficient for him. your presence all he needed even when words failed to find him. though you’d also learned to love the silence and how his embrace was enough to warm your soul.

the drive home tonight is epically quiet. his voice a sound you wished you could hear but know you won’t because he needs a moment. peers using him as means to their own ends, seeing dollar signs where human emotion should be considered. bruce internalizes it. he pushes it all down until he snaps and it all falls on himself or his sons. you remind him of the fact when he scratches his chin too hard and the red mark remains. when you see the bags begin to form or the line between his brows. he lets you smooth it out with a gentle smile that melts your heart like ice.

now his hands find their way to you anyway, sitting warm as he grips your thigh. fingers idle on the bare skin, still as if in waiting. he catches your eye at the red light, watching as it illuminates your skin amid the dark gotham night. like a sterling path of light through his dark thoughts. you pretend not to notice him staring at the side of your face when you stare at the side mirror.

bruce doesn’t like to be disturbed when he’s deep in thought. he doesn’t enjoy company that is uninvited. but with his wife, his beautiful loving wife, bruce has immense patience.

no one else can gauge his moods in the way you can. no one else sees how anger is truly concern or how his indifference is really acceptance.

he’s a man who has put all his faith into a broken system that has beat down his loved ones time and time again. bruce has to believe that it’s all for something. that he did this for a reason behind superficial tangibility. he admits to you in the quiet moments that it’s for you. for his family. for the child he hopes you’ll let him give you. admits that you ground him and keep his sand.

for now, he keeps his palm on your knee, sliding up and down to your thigh like he’s soothing. though you know it’s more for him than for you. then he’s bringing your hand on your thigh up to his lips. he reminds you that even without words that he loves you bad, until it makes him devoid of anything else. delicate presses of his supple skin to the back of your hand before he nuzzles his nose against it. watching him completely turned now, you smile to yourself and graze his cheek with your freehand before he turns to kiss the palm of that one too.

existence was simply sufficient for him. your presence all he needed even when words failed to find him. though you’d also learned to love the silence and how his embrace was enough to warm your soul.

the funny thing about saying something out loud is that it solidifies itself by whoever heard it.

being caught off guard and saying something you’d never really considered before and it takes root in your life as your word is held against you. something about this whole situation reminded you of the fundamentals of primary school and the golden rules you were supposed to follow.

treat others the way you want to be treated.

think before you speak.

something must’ve gotten lost in translation because everything seems to be going to shit.

back inside of the house, jason is nowhere to be found.

you duck into his room, check grayson’s, and then ultimately decide to check back downstairs again. nothing. pulling out your phone to call jason when you run into grayson, walking right into him as you descend down the stairs.

“woah, slow down,” he holds your shoulders straight, “where are we going?”

waving your phone around vaguely, “i was looking for jason but i think he left?”

grayson nods, “yeah. he went on a liquor run with roy and wally.”

“huh,” nodding back, you hum, “liquor run.”

“yeah, it’s a pool party this time so guaranteed need a couple kegs and something strong for shots.” continuing while you walk with him to the now fixed window and shooing away barry and oliver who were standing way too close to comfort. “and whoever did this shit is gonna get their ass beat when i find them.”

“makes sense.” you barely reply, watching as people move around you but not really paying attention.

the last few days have been, eventful to say the least. then hal threw in that curveball that just caused another spiral of what you and jason even were. he apologized, yes, and of course you want jason. you’ll always want jason but you’ve spent so much time now on him, trying to get over him to no avail. weeks of your life distancing yourself only to get pulled back to him again.

saying yes to hal felt like more of an unconscious decision than you actually wanting to date him.

it’s probably mean but he threw you off when he suddenly asked you out and it almost felt like a sign. that you had options and that not being with jason wasn’t the end of the world even if it felt like it. maybe hal could give you some perspective.

it’s not like hal jordan is ugly by any means. you’ve seen him without a shirt and he’s insanely ripped, much like grayson is. he’s pretty too, the kind that would make anyone do a double take.

but in the back of yours mind you still knew.

he’s not jason.

“hey,” grayson suddenly says, “you keep zoning out on me.”

you turn to face him, “yeah, sorry.”

he shakes his head and points a finger at your forehead, “don’t apologize. what’s going on in that head of yours?”

with a heavy sigh and no patience left to lie, “i hooked up with jason again.”

grayson’s eyes widen, “oh, i didn’t need to know that—” he sighs, “uh, isn’t that a good thing?”

you nod slowly, “i think so.”

from behind the two of you, the party began to get bigger. glassing clinking and laughter ringing. roaring music as tim whispered something in connor’s ear and he clicked away on his phone. hal had already joined the crowd with his shirt crooked on his body and a hand clasped around a beer. the front door was opening and closing more than you could count and the bodies stacking inside were more than the previous ones you’d been to probably because it was one of the last one of the school year.

but jason wasn’t back yet.

someone bumps into you from behind and touches your waist to steady you from falling.

“oops sorry. ‘m a clutz.” laughing as she lets go of your side to get a better look at you. “wait, i know you!”

she smiles bright, her hair dark and beautiful. her eyes had the prettiest sparkle to them. you blink at the girl in front of you and exchange a glance with grayson.

“are you in my program?” you ask.

grayson cuts in, “no, this is donna. you met her at the last party.”

you nod slowly as the gears turn you recognize her face from spin the bottle. “oh, hey. sorry.”

“you were dating jason right?” a clear slur in her voice that told you’d she’d been drinking for a while before getting here, “ugh, i was talking to roy and he’s such a dog. both of them are honestly. i just can’t believe jason made that bet about you seriously. all my sisters are uber pissed and swore to keep away for at least another week.”

your stomach drops at her words and the creeping feeling of embarrassment takes form. though another form of jealousy crept too.

“you all heard?” you ask quietly.

donna nods immediately, “of course, everyone kinda did. but and roy is still up jade’s ass so whatever.”

she doesn’t notice how your demeanour shifts just barely. the creeping unease from everyone knowing your existence from a bet, no matter how much reassurance jason gave you. it was finally in front of you. you’ve seen how you’re known to people you don’t really even know—as a joke.

twisting his head slightly, dick read how her words were hitting you before you’d even said anything yourself. he gestures to her hand quickly. “you’re drinking pink whitney?”

she shrugs and holds her cup up, “yup. come on, don’t act like it’s not good.”

“never said that it’s just banned from this frat. too many bad memories.”

a distant shout makes grayson turn his attention that way again. when you turn too, you see conner with blood dripping down his neck and a face palming tim. the needle in conners hand is barely visible from where you were but you could see enough to know he was adjusting a new piece of metal in his lip, matching the other side.

he pierced himself and didn’t even seem fazed.

“for fucks sake,” grayson murmurs under his breath before putting hand up to both of you and storming over towards them.

“i told him not to do it,” tim sighs and shrugs while conner looks pleased with himself, already tonguing at the snake bite.

grayson grabs the towel and holds it to his lip himself, like the responsible guy he tries to be. “this is the last time you pierce yourself dude. just go to the fucking tattoo parlor across the street.”

beneath the paper towel, conner laughs but it comes out more muffled, “‘n pay sixty-five bucks? ya right.”

you’d probably been smiling at their interaction or just tuned out so much that donna tapped you again.

“do you want get a drink too? i’m basically out.”

glancing towards the front door once more, like it could bring jason back faster, you slowly nod. the two of you move towards the kitchen and donna starts talking about astrology and zodiac signs. she explains how her sign is compatible with most people but you don’t quite remember what her sign even was from how fast she talked. by the time she’s pouring you a drink in a solo cup and handing it to you, she starts talking about roy again.

“—he’s a dick. a real piece of work but when we’re alone he’s sweet. i don’t get it.” she sighs before gesturing towards you vaguely at how zoned out you were again, “but i’m sure jason is similar right? they are bestfriends.”

though you answer immediately, your blood warm from the alcohol already, “no. he’s actually really sweet in every situation. just kindhearted like it’s in his blood, i don’t know, it’s kind of infuriating.”

she nods along, “he keeps to himself yeah. just a real ass for making that bet over you babe. i’m sorry about that.”

grimacing softly, you sigh, “why’re you sorry? it’s not like you did it.”

“i mean, it just doesn’t make sense.” donna dramatically groans, “he’s in love with you! why’d do men do terrible things to the women they love?”

you down the rest of your cup and immediately regret it with a groan of disgust before shrugging, “it’s not love. it’s like a race of endurance. who can take more hardship from someone whose supposed to make their life easier.”

she laughs with her pretty teeth out, bumping shoulders with you, “you sound like you’ve had a lot of shitty boyfriends.”

“one was enough,” you genuinely laugh too before it simmers into something deeper, “and he’s not shitty and that’s the problem.”

she frowns, “oh babe, i know exactly what you mean.”

the front door continues to open and close, inviting new people in and letting others out. between the shuffling, the two of you slide onto the counter, legs crossed towards the other. that’s when a thought occurs to you again and it demands to be discovered. you gulp before you speak.

“um… did you really mean what you said earlier? that everyone heard what roy said?”

donna’s frown deepens before she nods, “the people around us and other sorority did.”

“who cares though? after you graduate, you’ll never gonna see these losers again.”

she jumps off the counter, “let’s go, show ‘em how hot you are.”

sipping your drink, you glancing towards the party through the doorway. you blink at her than down at your clothes that wasn’t meant for a party.

“nah i’m good in here.” lying right through your teeth like you were any form of good right now.

she rolls her eyes and drags you anyways, back towards the loud music. as soon as you’re back you see shots being poured by roy and wally. the two of them arguing over who had better taste in music while you walked over with donna. when you look to donna to tell her to ignore roy, she’s already got hearts in her eyes and you sigh softly to yourself.

“—all you listen to is fucking faye webster,” roy sighs, “i bet you listen to taylor swift too.”

wally gasps like he’s offended, “okay that’s where i draw the line.”

when roy opens his mouth again, conner drapes his arms around both of their shoulders, “both of you have shit taste, how’s that?”

roy squints at tim over conners shoulder, though tim only smiled tightly and tilts his head towards where you stood with donna. he catches donnas eye and he shoots her a stupid smile, the kind you recognize as the one he makes to women he wants to sleep with.

in that moment you try really hard not to roll your eyes.

instead, you step slightly in front of her like a protective boyfriend or something even though you’d just met her. shaking your head when he catches your eye cause you know what roy is like. and in the little time you’d known donna, you know how he makes her feel with so little words.

“have you seen jason?” you say with a tilt of your head.

roy shrugs, “he’s probably still bringing the keg inside.”

you frown, “you let him bring a whole keg in alone?”

“have you seen the man?” asking with genuine confusion towards you, “he’s fucking ripped.”

as if you even have to think about it, you nod and turn to go find him. donna’s already making her way towards roy before you can tell her anything, so you continue your way toward the garage.

the music slowly gets quieter as you walk down the hall and into the laundry room. ignoring the people making out on top of the washer and dryer as you open the garage door and find it open and jason’s mustang still on. but he was nowhere to be found there. traces of ash on the ground as you circle the car and turn the corner to no avail. jason wasn’t there. you turn towards the front door and don’t find him. with an exasperated groan, you stomp towards the backyard door to try again at finding him because there’s no way he just left his car on right?

“you looking for something?” a husky voice calls out.

before you’d even touched the backyard door, you spin on your heel to find jason there. blunt burning between his fingers as he leaned against his car again.

“yeah actually.” as you approach him, “you.”

his face stays the same as he takes another drag. eyes not lifting from you and the same stoic look on them.

“so, you found me.” he says as he blows the smoke out. the grey clouding around him and the sour smell of marijuana radiating off of him. heady in the way that distracts you.

you nod like it means something and lean next to him. “you always smoke in the same spot so if you were trying to hide, you should try harder.”

jason sighs and stretches his shoulders, “i guess i’m getting predictable.”

the moment pauses as you try to decipher the meaning in his words. “i didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

his eyes meet yours as he pushes off the wall. “neither did i.”

making quick work to ash out his barely lit joint, he flicks it away as he pivots and moves to go back inside without even a glance towards your direction. something in your stomach twists. you frown to yourself before deciding to ask him.

“did i do something wrong?”

jason turns his head just enough to look at you. his hand still on the door as he pulls it open. the smile that he gives you barely reaches his eyes as that same exhaustion you’d seen earlier had returned.

“nah ma, you didn’t do anything.”

then the door follows behind him, leaving you in the cold air to think to yourself. just long enough to decide that you should go home and give the both of you some space.

space you knew would eat away at your sanity.

luckily, you’re not much of a drinker so waking up early wasn’t hard to do after last night.

getting to gordon’s presentation on his new paper was easier than your morning practicals, at least today. naturally as his assistant and amateur researcher, you’d been invited to attend the gala thrown by the sponsors.

by the time you arrived, the guests were set up and the audience was packed. gordon’s standing by the bar with some of the law professors, holding a darkened drink that was definitely bitter and pretentious. a select few men with their hair slicked back had gathered around where gordon stood. conversing and laughing in a pitch that exhibited more wealth than you’d ever known.

your heels were already killing you as you walked off the subway since they had to host this on the upper east side of town. you tug at your neatly arranged dress and step forward to mingle like you were supposed to. forced to talk to the people that funded gordon’s PhD and his years of research that every other person had found ridiculous.

the sound of your name being called made you turn towards it.

“when’d you get here sweetheart?” gordon smiled as he gestured you towards the rest of them.

he was always such a strong and respected figure that you saw him like a parent. since your first year, you’d taken classes with him and his years of extensive police work had drawn you in. gordon might’ve pushed you really hard like he wanted you to do well because he really did. in the back of his mind he knew you were brilliant and wanted to nourish it before you finally graduated.

that’s why you had a full year of research assistance under your belt thanks to him.

the men around him parted for you and you exchanged a gentle hello. “i just got here actually.”

he nods, “good. great timing. i’d like you to meet some people!” gesturing towards the people in crisp suits with swirling glasses. “this is clifford devoe.”

the name rang bells immediately from how poorly gordan talked about him in private to you. gordans eyes looked to you then to the man again, silently saying a thousand words. you fill in the blanks for him and offer your hand to clifford when he raises his to take yours.

“you must be the generous one the university appointed. it’s so nice to finally meet you.”

with your hand gently taken into his hand, the feeling of unease that radiated off of him was unmistakable. you hide the grimace that he caused when he repeats your name to you.

“hm, yes.” still holding your hand a moment too long. dragging his eyes over you before letting you pull away. “i’ve seen what you’d contributed to the study on adolescent rehabilitation and prison reform. truly sickening that we still debate the human nature of criminals.”

you’re sure you’re failing terribly at hiding your distaste now. “don’t you think it’s a little silly to attribute it all to human nature?”

from beside you gordan seems to purse his lips. though clifford scoffs and smiles small, “of course a young woman such as yourself would think so as if that’s some revolutionary thought.” laughing through his words.

the condescension was clear from his rude mouth. you could taste the bitterness he spewed.

you hum, “why of course a man such as yourself would believe no one is redeemable but him.”

from beside him, the black haired man in the suit catches your eye briefly before chuckling into his glass. narrowing your eyes at the shape of his eyebrows because they were just so familiar, the thick arches that mimicked wings. it reminded you of jason and his thick set brows that were studiously perfect without having touched them.

gordon clears his throat and nudges you softly before saying your name to change the subject.

“have you seen the completed poster with all the statistics? it looks really great, let me show you.”

before you can say anything else, he’s already been walking away, turning his head to look at you just to ensure you’re following him. with a polite and contrasting goodbye, you take your leave. feeling proud of yourself as

when you get to the poster, gordon’s standing there squinting like he’s got something bad to say. but he just shakes his head and points to the men you’d left at the bar, still conversing like no tension had ever raised.

“he pays for the damn project sweetheart, we can’t insult him no matter how much of an ass he may be.”

you shrug and sigh before mumbling. “at least not to his face right?”

despite the situation, gordan laughs. “yeah, at least not to his face.” patting your back and turning the both of you towards the poster. “now, did i tell you that they approved you as a peer-reviewed scholar once you’ve graduated?”

looking towards the statistics scattered across the large poster, you saw all the datasets you’d condensed. all the graphs and charts that you’d made and the spreadsheets that made you feel like you were losing brain cells. you didn’t think you’d get being a contributor to research paper on your record too. just being an assistant was enough. with a tilt of your head at the meticulous pie chart you made so long ago you forgot about, you hum.

“but i’m not gonna be here so how could i contribute anything anyway?”

“well if you stay at gotham for your masters,” he shakes your shoulder gently, the way the father would when he’s proud but doesn’t wanna say it with words aloud. “i won’t publish until october.”

that stopped your mind from thinking about anything else but what just came out of his mouth.

eyes widening as you turn to him. “wait, really?”

this would set you apart from other applicants in your graduate program and give you a better chance at getting into it.

he smiles with crinkles around his eyes and nods because you’d only been talking about this since you started. also because someone had already mentioned your interest to him.

“do i get any credit for that part of it?” a voice from behind you sound a d you turn to face it.

but you didn’t expect for it to be bruce wayne.

you blink at your friends dad that you’d only seen a handful of times before. now you recall how he was sat at the bar earlier, just his eyes visible and the realization of how they looked having distracted you enough. still you smile and lean forward to take his hand when he offers it.

“mr. wayne, it’s so nice to see you. i didn’t think you’d be here.”

his hand was firm and certain. righteous in a way that he radiated the energy even when you would just briefly see him.

“gordon invited me along with a couple business partners. it’s good to see you again. what’s it been? 2 years?” bruce gives a small smile while he places his drink on the table next to you. looking to gordon, bruce switches his gaze between him and the poster, “i’ve been thinking, you could go back as commissioner and implement these ideas yourself gordon.”

a snort escapes gordon as he shakes his head, “no way, and leave my cushiony tenure position?” laughing as he gestures to the poster. “you see the bridge in socioeconomic status and educational attainment? those positions don’t require degrees. they just need intelligence and compassion that comes naturally. you got a knack for those bruce.”

the two of them share a knowing glance before someone approaches gordon to ask about something with his focus group, taking away his attention. he excuses himself before he leaves you there with bruce. for a moment, it’s quiet while bruce watches the party, taking slow sips of his bourbon.

you watch with him, noticing how the people in this party were mostly the types who didn’t need to worry about these things. about the ones that are unfairly prosecuted or treated as villainous for trying to survive. no one in this room held that title the way you’d seen women and men alike being pressed. surveillance was created by them for them, to protect them.

that’s what made you want to get involved in gordon’s study. a chance to use theory and practice in a way that actually mattered.

“you think very loudly.” bruce suddenly says.

your head turns to his, still looking out at the people conversing and moving about. she’s trained over nothing and everything at once.

“my bad,” you laugh nervously.

he only shoots you another smile, “don’t be. your mind is brilliant and meant to think. don’t burn yourself out doing it too much. it’s a habit i’ve yet to get my sons to figure out too.”

sons. right.

nodding your head, you change the subject. “you know gordon pretty well?”

he nods too. “knew him back when he was still an officer. the man is a saint personified.”

distracted from the topic at hand, you try to stay focused, nodding along and silently staring at where bruce’s eyes were trained. though bruce is incredibly attentive, and he immediately notices how you’d been looking. fixing his watch that didn’t need any adjusting as he speaks.

“dick tells me jason misses you.”

nearly choking on your spit, you look to bruce again, forgetting to not look so surprised. “what?”

behind his professionalism, something turns warmer. “he’s taking academics more seriously. i’ve always told him he’s got the smarts when he puts his mind to it but i’m sure you’ve seen how shrugs it off.”

not knowing what to say, you nod him along.

“…he even applied for a couple graduate programs thanks to you and got into them all across the country.” lifting his glass and sipping.

“i didn’t know he applied.” you admit.

“it’s force of habit i guess,” he shrugs. “he didn’t even tell me when he got into gotham university. just started attending classes and brushed it off like it was no big deal which i assure you, it is.”

frowning at his fathers admission, “that’s kinda sad. he’s probably the smartest person i know.”

suddenly bruce smiles at you, his grin something more of fond remembrance. he adjusts his suit and sniffs just audible enough for you to notice. then his smile falls as he meets the eye of someone across from the room and they wave to one another.

“if you see my son, please let him know for me that his bike has been replaced. and that i need him to answer the phone when i call him.” touching your wrist softly and bidding you goodbye.

with nothing to say or actualize the fact with, you’d turned your attention back to the poster. the words swirling themselves until you’d forgotten what the last year collecting was about.

suddenly you’re glad there’s noone around to ask you about it, cause you’re not sure you’d know.

“dude just back that shit up on me.” grayson coos.

from in front of him, wally groans. “no dude, it’s not gonna fit in there anyways. just ask someone else to.”

“i’ll make it fit just shut up and do it.”

on the couch a phone rings. both of the boys ignore it and instead continuing muttering at the other. taking turns groaning as wally pushes the desk, hal shakes his head from the other side of the room.

“you guys know you could do this literally anywhere else.”

“and you could help, you know?” grayson sighs as he drops the horribly built ikea desk wally built. looking hal up and down, dick furrows his brow. “why are you even dressed like that?”

brushing off his shirt with absolutely no lint on it, hal smooths out the folds in his button up. grinning from ear to ear like a kid who’d won a prize. “I have a date.”

the boys all turn to look at him.

“oh,” wally lets the desk back on the ground, ignoring how grayson groans when it hits his foot. “a hot date huh? she got a friend?”

like perfectly horrible timing, jason’s walking into the living room. to grab his phone he’d forgotten that had unknowingly been ringing and buzzing. his eyes fall on hal on the chair immediately, trailing up his form with sharp eyes. dick clears his throat at the sight.

“your phones been ringing.” he simply says.

“yeah, i heard.” jason murmurs as he clears past hal wordlessly and heads straight to the kitchen as though he wanted nothing to do with him.

as though his very being annoyed him enough that he couldn’t spare him a glance right now. the sudden presence and departure of jason had thrown the energy of the room off for a moment, not because of him but how far hals discomfort radiated. wally takes a long look between grayson and hal before nodding towards where jason had disappeared behind the wall of.

“what’s his problem?” he sits next to hal on the couch, legs going up lazily on the coffee table.

hal opened his mouth to fill in the blanks, but grayson chimes in first, his eyes trained pointedly on hal as he answers wally. “his girl left him for some douchebag in a frat.”

awkwardly the air fills as wally nods. “right…”

“i’m gonna uh—” hal stands and leaves his cup on the table. “head out now. i’m picking her up and all.”

perched on the ikea desk, grayson nods with an expression that looks disapproving. “i expect you back around midnight cinderella. no hooking up on your first date.”

wally snorts, “hasn’t stopped him before.”

“shut up west.” effectively cutting through the tension again. “i’m serious, i’m putting the latch on after.”

the other two stay silent. hal nodding knowingly before grabbing his key and leaving them with a quiet goodbye. wally furrows his brows only minutes later as he contemplates. while the room drifts back into a silence and grayson leaves to check the kitchen only to find it empty, wally itches his chin.

“gray?” mumbling vaguely.

he hums in acknowledgment as he types away on his phone.

“is the girl he’s going out with jason’s girl?”

that gets him to look up from his phone and bring his hand out. hovering over wally’s forehead before flicking him with a sharp seething sound from his lips. grayson huffs.

“no shit sherlock. now stop straining yourself and get off your ass. move this desk out of my living room.”

this entire situation was so fucked.

the night had hardly started and hal already fucked up in ways you knew jason would never. when he messaged you about confirming the date, he wouldn’t say where it would be. so instead, you opted to ask what to wear.

big. fucking. mistake.

never ask a man what to where to any occasion because they will give you false, misleading information and clearly hal jordan was no exception.

he told you to dress casual, something everyday, he said. thankfully you chose to wear a simple black dress otherwise you’d be entirely underdressed for this fancy restaurant he took you to. now he’s sitting across from you, flipping through the menu gracefully like he’s a food connoisseur. occasionally humming as he reads out the name of the dish to you.

“would you like the house caviar? it’s genuinely the best thing you’ll find in the tri-state area.” eyes twinkling beautifully under the romantic ambience lighting.

if it were any other period of your life, you might really, truly like him. the way he took charge and pushed to ask you out was hot. he found a way to wiggle into your life and he took what he wanted. hal was good looking, smart, and he had a good head on his shoulders. but somehow you found yourself looking into his eyes like they were interesting. found yourself staring at the orange illuminating his skin like it were the most familiar thing, and watching the flames flicker in his eyes.

staring at the flames that reminded you of him.

the warmth grew on your skin as his face morphed everytime you blinked and the love ached. your heart ached at the thought of him.

he touches your hand, “you okay?”

“huh?” you shut your eyes and look back at him quickly, shaking the distraction off. “sorry i missed what you asked.”

his thumb strokes the back of your hand soothingly. the action grounds you from the thoughts the swirled. “if you’d like caviar to try. the mussels are delicious too.”

shooting him a reassuring smile, you shake your head. “oh um, sure. whatever you’d like.”

“but would you like it?” he counters.

“probably not.” you answer honestly. “sorry.”

he smiles, “don’t apologize. it’s good to know though, next time i’ll take you somewhere not fish related.”

vaguely you nod and try to smile though you’re sure it comes out insincere. hal only frowns and squeezes your hand like he’d known you’d needed some reassurance to guide your thoughts.

“we can still go home.” suddenly he says. “i mean i don’t want to, shit, i don’t care if jason keeps moping around and cries himself to sleep cause we’re here. i know what i want unlike him and that’s you.”

you blink slowly, letting his declaration find footing in your mind. technically he was right. you had these second thoughts because you weren’t even sure of this date would go ahead or if hal really did like you. it’s almost like he reads your mind when he tilts his head to look harder at you.

“—he doesn’t decide if we like eachother. i’d be damned if i let him get in the way of me and pretty girl just cause he fumbled her.”

the waiter comes by before you can speak through your parted lips and offers more wine. hal smiles and nods at the waiter, his warm hand still holding yours. it only occurred then that you were the one making this awkward, not him. the waiter pours your drinks and hal lifts his with his free hand, gesturing you to do the same. clinking the glasses, he swirls the cup and sips, his eyes trained on yours as you mirror him.

setting his drink back down and letting you take your hand back, hal orders for the both of you. part of you wasn’t sure how to feel, him taking that initiative to place an order of what you’d like to eat but also partially annoyed that he’d assumed what you’d like. or maybe he just did what he pleased. regardless, you were kind of glad he’d said something to the waiter cause the names of the dishes on this menu was absolutely insane. continually you look around the space, taking in the gorgeous lighting and the artwork that definitely costs thousands to maintain here. he watches your face while you stare at the tapestry behind him.

“do you like art then?”

you nod your head, still looking at the painting behind him. “i can appreciate it for sure.”

his eyes don’t falter, still staring at you while you’re looking around. “so can i.”

when you look to him, he’s got his head in one of his hands, smiling fainting with those dimples just deep enough to notice. he blinks at you, still giddy. “don’t mind me. i’m taking it in.”

you raise a brow at him. “taking in me or this place?”

“would it be wrong if i said both?”

heat rushes to his ears as soon as the words leave his mouth. it only makes you feel like imploding from how sweet he was being. fighting the urge to smile until he breaks into a soft laughter and you return the same. shaking your head and looking up the the chandelier hanging just next to you again. hal follows your gaze.

“you’ve looked at that chandelier at least eight times now.” this time looking with you like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

“sorry,” you laugh. “i haven’t been anywhere this nice before.”

he tops off your drinks and leans his elbows on the table in improper etiquette. “don’t worry about apologizing. i’m not much of fancy restaurant guy myself.”

pointedly, you eye him. his effortlessly handsome outfit and crisp button up shirt said otherwise.

with a smile, your narrow your eyes at him. “could’ve fooled me jordan.”

“i mean,” he raises his hands in surrender. “i don’t even know what these forks are for. i usually like eating with the little one at home.”

a genuine smile returns on your face as you lean closer just as he’s been. “i’m pretty sure that’s supposed to be a sign of neurodivergence.”

“a fork?” he challenges. “you know what, you’re smart and pretty, i believe anything you say.”

lightly you smack his arm and shake your head, calling him stupid with no malice as you sipped your drink. after a couple more minutes, the waiter comes out with your food. as soon as you take a bite, you look up at him wide eyed and make a sound of approval.

hal smiles like he’s won the lottery. “yeah? it’s good?”

with your eyes still closed now, you shake your head and chew. “very good.”

pushing your plate to him, he laughs and takes a forkful to try. only seconds later moaning egregiously enough that the older people in the tables next to you have dirty looks.

“this, is better than sex.” he admits more loudly than he needs to.

“really selling yourself short there,” you laughed.

blinking he laughs. “i mean, sex is objectively good right. but if the girls not feeling it then it’s never good. as a man, i’m objectively not as good as this pasta.”

this only makes you laugh harder. “that still didn’t make any sense.”

your mind eases off of jason for a moment as he presses you for information about school and your future. he listens so intently that it makes you feel respected and valued.

hal had ordered the caviar he was anxiously wanted you to try and reluctantly you’d made some excuse not to. hal shrugs and eats the rest while you’re not sure whether to be endeared or slightly horrified. but even this wasn’t an issue.

the problem was exactly that. hal jordan had no red flags for you to focus on. nothing for you to say so you could argue that you weren’t ready or that he was rude enough to warrant never seeing him again. he was quite the opposite of being crude. the date was far from terrible. he’d picked you up from your place and even came up to your floor to walk you down. flowers waited for you on the passenger seat once he got you there.

even after the dinner was over and hal had paid for the bill, he wrapped his coat around you and respectfully walked you of the building with a hovering hand. still unsure if he could touch you but not ready enough to ask to. he held the door open as he let you back into his car. drove you back to your apartment and walked you up the stairs all over again.

shamefully, all you could backtrack to was jason.

all you could imagine was the parallels to him at your front door, waiting for you to open it. now you were opening your heart to a boy you didn’t pay much mind to a month ago, no matter how physically attractive he was.

but hal had no problems to blame your inability to fall into to. no real issues to back up this feeling that he wasn’t yours because he isn’t jason.

you unlock your front door and push it open, standing in he doorway with the lillies he’d bought you. he stands behind you with his hands in his pocket and a sweet smile that should’ve made you melt, instead you felt like stone.

“thank you for tonight hal. i had a lot of fun.”

shrugging and nodding with that perfect, unfamiliar look on his face, he speaks. “i did too. i really hope i can take you out again soon, maybe something less fancy? this time i can cook for you?”

the thought only made you swirl further.

distant memories that felt closer than before reappeared. jason cooking in your kitchen with a soft hum coming from his throat as he chopped and stirred. him feeding you something saucy and cheesy before he kissed your lips to wipe the residue off. his hands travelling down your thighs while he pressed against you with his lame apron still on. his voice by your ear saying all the sweet things you’d ever wanted to hear.

now you wanted to vomit.

you nod, looking into each of hal’s eyes and letting him lean in closer as he stares at your lips. the intention was clear and you felt frozen in place, but it translates as permission. interpreted as want as you stare longingly not at him but through him and imagine the face of the boy you love so dearly.

he leans further in and presses his soft lips to yours, deepening it as his hand came up to hold your head. though you don’t move from your place. you didn’t reach out to touch his head back or let go of the flowers. instead your grip loosened a little and you let your head go a limp as he held you closer, though his lips somehow felt colder than the last ones you’d touched. then he pulls away, gasping slightly and smiling with his eyes closed in satisfaction.

“you’re so perfect.” whispering before he kisses your cheek and pulls away. “good night gorgeous.”

listening as his footsteps depart and you stand there with the flowers hanging low, petals facing the floor. after a minute you quietly slip into your house, a new sense of discomfort bubbling. you shut the door behind you and lean against it, flowers slipping from your fingers and hitting the floor with a soft thud.

a shudder runs though you.

you’re not sure how many minutes are spent like this, thoughts making you spin and taking root in your mind. the memories of jason and uneasy guilt that you didn’t believe you should even harbour but did.

somehow you felt angry, not with hal, and not even with jason, but with yourself.

frustration bloomed. slow, hot tears rush down your cheeks as you bury your head in your hands.

what the fuck were you doing?

the door shuts behind him with a thud, a soft groan on his lips as he slips his shoes off.

everyone should be asleep in the frat house now. it’s nearly one in the morning and he’s lucky grayson didn’t lock him out. but hal notices a light on in the kitchen, and something told him he wasn’t going to be let off so easily.

quietly hal creeps toward the kitchen, pulling off his belt as he approaches and leaves it on the table in the hall like he’d had a long day at work.

“how’s your date?” a voice grumbles.

hal nearly jumps, “jeez, fuck—jason? what’re you doing up?”

from the dining table jason grumbles again. dimly lit but just visible enough, hal spots a beer and a ashtray in front of him. “couldn’t sleep.”

stalking a little closer, hal turns on another light. “waiting up for me to get home i assume?”

“doesn’t matter,” he quickly answers. “whatever forget i asked.” getting up and throwing his beer out.

hal only stands there, watching him move and murmuring a quiet, “alright then…”

then jason turns around. he freezes in the doorway before he turns to hal, something on his face that meant he was serious. “just don’t… hurt her, alright?”

“you mean like you did?” crossing his arms across his chest as he blankly stares at jason.

“yeah,” jason agrees, his eyes shining with a soft sheen that told hal he was clearly emotional while he was out. then he resorts to threatening. “don’t do what i did cause i swear to god i’ll make you regret it jordan.”

though hal sees how he seemed defensive without any real malice. jason seems genuinely sad as though he’s realized what he done just as he was weeks ago, moping around the house. this time he only seemed defeated, and it didn’t seem worth it to keep dragging jason’s past along.

easing back toward the table, hal shrugs him off. “look man,” sighing quietly, “you don’t have anything to worry about.”

jason perks up as he looks back to hal again. “what do you mean?”

“i mean,” shuffling his feet as he mentally prepares himself to reassure jason. “she seemed distracted the whole night. like she’s in her own head thinking about something else. it wasn’t until we got to her apartment that she—”

before he knew it jason was in his face, dangerously close. “you went to her place?” anger in his tone.

“i didn’t go into her place, i just dropped her off to her front door. no big deal. it’s not like we fucked or anything.”

his mouth opens and closes again like he’s going to ask him something but he doesn’t. instead he takes a backwards step and nods slowly. “right. good. you should be seeing her get home. it’s uh, safer that way.”

squinting his eyes like jason was entirely transparent despite how he tried to make himself seem, hal shakes his head. the tension falls from its rising crescendo and hal leans onto the table as jason anxiously taps his foot. the two of them unsure how to proceed from here. then grayson walks into the kitchen, yawning and rubbing at his eyes.

“you idiots whisper yell very loudly.” turning his head to hal to hone in on him. “didn’t i say be back earlier?”

“well you didn’t lock the door.” shooting a cheeky smile that grayson doesn’t find amusing.

jason uses the opportunity to excuse himself and takes a bottle of water from the fridge. tugging on the drawstrings of his hoodie as he walks out. “night.”

the two boys return the sentiment and grayson turns back to hal, before jason is too far to miss their words. “how’d it go? you kiss her?”

from the staircase, jason stayed put there and held his breath. waiting for hal’s response to what he knew he had no right to be angry over. the milliseconds it takes him to respond felt like an eternity to jason.

hal chuckles quietly, “it went good. really good. i’m gonna take her out again next week.”

grayson nods expectantly. “you didn’t answer the second part.”

“yeah,” hal starts with a fond smile on his face, “i kissed her.”

letting out a slow, controlled breath from his nose, jason stares into the abyss ahead of him. at the dark unlit hallway that lead to his room and stalks towards it without thinking about it.

he doesn’t stay long enough to hear what his brother says and goes straight to his room.

your only lecture today was the most boring one to date.

students had fallen asleep on their desks across the lecture hall, theatre seating giving you great view to see exactly what everyone was up to. you were still distracted from the events that unfolded this the last week alone and how you’d gone a date with hal only two days prior.

the thing is, you hadn’t told anyone about it yet. you hadn’t seen cassandra or grayson. you hadn’t even heard roy’s loud mouth in a week let alone seen jason.

now you were finishing up your notes and cross referencing it to the readings to understand what concepts overlapped. highlighting the theories that worked in contemporary cases and found something to discredit it for your final paper coming up. the professor spoke quickly as he went through the importance of ethics as a researcher. how you’d need to inform the participant of their role in your work and how they play an important part in pinpointing change.

how it was your job to be honest and responsible. to ensure you’ve spoke nothing but the truth to the people you’d involved. all you wanted now was to talk to jason. not that you’re sure what you’d say, just that his voice could ease your mind from everything else.

once the lecture is over, you’re the first one to leave. a sweet treat and coffee was in order for the fruits of your labour today—getting out of bed and going to a lecture.

the cafe air is always warm and inviting. the scent of arabian beans and baked goods drawing you closer to the counter. it’s a blessing that it’s located right at the edge of campus too, so when the library was too packed, you’d head here.

you take your drink and a house made brownie to head to the booth seat by the window. watching the clear blue sky and listening to the chatter in the cafe. you pull out your laptop and notebook, cracking your knuckles in anticipation for what awaits you and how much studying you needed to catch up on. no matter how hard you prepared, there was always more to do in university. plus, being a research assistant meant you’d have to push your school work aside to aid in a project.

right as you open a new tab and click your pen—you see him.

jason walked into the store with his headphones on and his bag slung over his shoulder. he heads straight for the booth in front of you and you track his movements without making it obvious. though when he passes by your table, he slows down. his eyes fall over you as fast as he looked away, and you feel a sense of disappointment wash over you. then, he just slides into his seat and all you can see is his hair poking out the top of the booth from tall he is in comparison.

why were you disappointed that he didn’t really say hi, you’re the one who kinda ghosted him.

to yourself you blink. at the laptop you blink harder.

no, you’re not being crazy right? why didn’t he reach out anyway? is this all justified to him like he doesn’t really even care? you guys have been studying together for a while now, and he always joins you so boyfriend or not, why didn’t he? aren’t you guys friends?

you’re standing up before you know it, grabbing your things and roughly shoving it in your bag. the reasoning had convinced you enough that he was the one being weird because he totally was.

didn’t jason even say you did nothing wrong the other night?

“hey,” you say standing next to his booth.

he lifts his headphone from one ear, “uh hi.”

“why didn’t you sit with me?”

blinking as he pauses his music, jason slides his headphones off and gestures you to sit. quietly you do.

“i assumed you were busy.” he says as you sit.

“i wasn’t.” more timidly than you intended to.

he shrugs slightly, “it looked like you were.”

for a moment you still. maybe you were right. maybe he doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore. but why won’t he just say it out loud?

jason fiddles with his headphones for a second before he decides the grain of the wooden table was more interesting. you however, weren’t amused. in fact, you were quite confused as to why he’d been avoiding you entirely.

“was it something that i said?“ plainly, you ask.

jason sighs and looks you in the eyes fully for the first time since you sat down. “we haven’t talked in days, what could you have said?”

“exactly,” nodding his sentiment along, “you’ve been avoiding me and i can’t figure out why…”

“i’ve just been busy.” he lies.

“liar.” you call him out. “we have the same classes.”

with his hands, he gestures slyly. “look,” not realizing how his tone gave him away. “you didn’t say anything wrong.”

“so i did something then.” you correct.

jason grumbles and says your name. “no, now you’re putting words in my mouth. we, you and i, we’re good. you don’t owe me anything ma. i just want you to be happy.”

the nickname makes your stomach flutter regardless. jason looks to his phone to a message from roy and sighs before standing up again.

but you’re thinking over the meaning behind his words. i just want you to be happy. you don’t owe me anything. where the hell was that coming from?

“i gotta go.” shoving his headphones into his bag and getting out of the booth.

“oh, already?” you try and fail to hide your disappointment.

he only nods, “i’ll see you around princess.”

then he walks off.

the meaning behind his words only swirled you more confused. the thoughts filling your mind and sending mixed signals throughout. his sudden cold demeanour had you thinking and overthinking, letting them sink through the fabric of your clothes and onto your skin like a brand you felt shameful wearing as it clicked.

fuck, jason knew.

“you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

grayson has always been terrible at hiding his actual feelings with you. he could hardly even mask it as he stretches his legs out for his run and shakes his head.

“you’re still in love with him. of course you are! you guys are both playing racket ball with my last couple of brain cells.” pulling his leg behind him into a deep stretch.

burying your face in the pillow on his bed, you try not to scream.

lucky jason wasn’t home according to grayson. he had gone up to the cottage to grab his bike apparently and decided to spend the weekend there so he wouldn’t be back until monday.

folding to lay his palms flat in the ground, he effortlessly continues. “i never liked the hal thing for the record. i’d prefer keeping you in the family.”

“gray, you’re not helpful at all.” you murmur from his pillow.

sighing, he stands upright. “alright. fine. you tell me then.” striding closer and ruffling you hair obnoxiously. “do you really love him?”

from the pillows you lift your head and look up at his watchful eyes, a arch in his brow that demanded honesty. slowly you nod.

“i think he made me understand what it means and i’ll always want him.” you admit.

grayson shakes his head at your response as you sit upright. “that’s not what i asked though. do you love him? because if you’re using hal to move on, that’s a disservice to both of you. hal and yourself.”

“not jason?” you raise a brow.

“nope.” he quickly answers. “that boy made his bed the first time he messed with you. everything else is fair game in my mind.”

that pulls a genuine laugh out of you. his honesty only making his statement funnier to you.

“aye, i’m serious. jason hurt you once, so i’m not sweating you trying to move on, even if it’s a little fast for you.” patting your shoulder softly as he moves back towards the door.

though a sinking guilt still held you, he made you feel a little better. “thanks gray.”

“anytime,” he smiles. “now you have no excuse to miss the party i’m throwing you.”

everything in your face drops, both in disbelief and shock. “for me? what?”

this only makes him smile wider. “ha, perfect keep that surprised face when everyone shows up. it’s not everyday someone gets into grad school like haven’t been gushing over it since their first year.”

before you can grumble his name or protest another party after last weekends where jason vaguely told you, “you did nothing ma.” grayson is already out the door. stomping down the stairs as his open door lets the sound of his voice travel.

“wear something nice please!”

the walk over to the frat house was obnoxious as the campus was packed. people gathered across the field with drinks and blankets, music and loud students celebrating their final days on campus.

there was no choice for you but to attend since grayson practically forced you to go.

opening the door to the house was where you saw just how much bigger this party was than he told you. loud music and synthetic smoke mixed to create a barrier that could make you feel intoxicated just by being there.

by the stairs, there was a group of people lounging and smoking. a huge bong between them and a couple joints being passed between the group. then there was people just standing near the door, lingering and talking. mostly flirting. in the living room was a game of spin the bottle and another group dancing to dancehall.

you hear your name being called just seconds before someone hands you a drink and you gracefully accept. grayson approaches you and eyes the cup.

“what’re you doing accepting random drinks when i made you a special punch eh?” wrapping his arm around your shoulder and walking you both towards the kitchen.

you laugh as he spins you by your finger and whistles at your outfit. “you actually listened and wore a skirt.”

gushing beside him is donna, roy’s arm lazily around her waist. “oh my god. you look so hot!”

taking in her attire you admire her. her black dress with sparkles that looked stars in a night sky. she was so effortlessly gorgeous.

“thanks.” you smile. “so are you. that dress is made for you.”

donna laughs and picks up a solo cup, handing it to grayson to pour as roy nods his head at you. then he whispers in her ear and grayson steals your attention once again bu handing you a full cup of punch that you just knew was 90% alcohol and 10% punch.

“this, my beautiful friend, is made solely for you.”

clinking his plastic cup with yours before taking a swig. reluctantly you do the same, taking a long sip of the drink made to inebriate you clearly. the taste made you wince and shake your head, hanging your tongue out of your mouth as you grimace.

“what did you put in this grayson?” you wince.

he laughs and rubs your back as you cough. “oh you know, seltzer, lime, vodka, don’t worry about it. it’s mean to get you drunk and let loose before you’re in that stuck up institution without me.”

“you’re in an institution right now.” you blink.

for a moment he thinks, then he shrugs. “whatever, did you eat yet?”

“uh. not dinner if that’s what you mean.”

he tsks at you and opens the cabinet, tossing a protein bar at you. you catch it and eye the bar before his face like you’d asked, why without saying the words. he gets it of course.

“cause i don’t want you puking at a party meant for you. so eat it please.” he kisses the back of your head dramatically and you could already tell just how drunk he was.

humourlessly, you let out a small laugh and shake your head. but you don’t miss when grayson catches roy’s eye. he tilts his head and mouths something that you would’ve missed if his distraction had worked. roy looks to grayson and shrugs, and his words you can make out.

i don’t know.

“girl,” donna snaps you out of your trance. “you look too good to stand around.” dragging you out of the kitchen by your wrists.

you’re still sipping your drink as she pulls you over, needing the liquid courage as she brings you into the empty space. she’s already starting to dance a little while you rest your drink on the table. moving her hips next to yours and humming thoughtfully to the song. she bumps your hip with hers.

“come on!” she laughs and you can’t help but laugh too.

the liquid bringing you more confidence as you start to raise your hands in sync with her and let the beat thump through your body. slowly, you bring your arms up and down your body, swaying and letting your hair fall behind you. donna’s got her hands on your hips experimentally, moving you around and whooping. you play along and grind on her like she’s your man here. then you see stephanie and cassandra just lounging by the couches and you gesture them over.

they rise and dance with eachother, inching closer until all you could smell radiating off of everyone nearby was the intoxicating marijuana and alcohol that ruined you like no other. but the name didn’t stick, and the blunt from between cassandra’s fingers made its way to your lips as she placed it there. smiling at you and loudly saying.

“i’m glad you left your house smarty pants.”

you roll your eyes and blow out the smoke in her direction, the sensations intensifying as you grew more intoxicated. leaning closer to her face, you whisper yell, “why don’t you go dance with your girlfriend yeah?”

cassandra laughs and offers you another hit that you so gracefully accept, twirling as you take a long drag and pass it back over. she moves her way back towards stephanie and does the same in putting the blunt between her lips. you catch stephanie hollowing her cheeks and urging her closer, blowing the smoke right in her mouth.

you couldn’t help the pang of jealousy that rose inside you. what they had, you wanted so badly. you practically had it with jason, but now your here swirling in your thoughts because a smell and an action now attributed itself to him in your mind. slowly you sway over and slow your dancing, the thoughts filling you up in a way you hated.

a hand grazes your side and spins you to face them. a smile on his face that practically echoed his intentions.

“hey gorgeous.” hal greets you. “you look real good.”

you blink up at him, a little tipsy and definitely a little high. the cross fade making you open enough to lower your inhibitions. you smile back.

“hi hal, so do you.” letting his hands go around your waist so he could move with you slowly.

the people around you are grinding on eachother, but you knew well enough that that’s not why you wanted. instead, you move his hands that travelled lower and place them on your waist. he doesn’t even question it and lets you use him for support as you grabbed your cup and took another sip.

from the corner of your eye you see a girl touching up on a guy, his back turned so all you could see was the ripple of hard muscle under his shirt. but the way he moved was too familiar.

your breath hitched as you watched the scene unfold.

the redheaded girl dragged her hand down his chest as he turns to the side, one of his hands hovering over hers and the other flat at his side. she’s mouthing something close to his ear and he tilts his head to hear it. the air from the room felt like it was being sucked out as you saw his face. the girl giggles as jason whispers back, and you feel your heart pounding in your chest.

quickly you turn away and take a giant gulp. unknowingly you had been gripping at hal’s chest and he had just let you. his eyes followed where yours had led and he frowns slightly as you pull away to down your drink.

“you okay?” he suddenly asks.

you clear your throat. “yeah, i’m fine,” fake smiling to sell your words.

“don’t do that,” he rasps in your ear. “it’s okay to still love him.”

that takes you back and you look up to him, his hands still locked around your waist.

“what?” you quietly say.

he smiles like it’s the easiest thing. “you heard me. it’s not a crime to be in love. hell, he’s a lucky guy to have a woman as beautiful and driven as you.”

the implication made your face burn. he knew you’d been in love with jason all this time, but he didn’t want to make you feel bad about it.

your lips part as you rasp his name as though in apology. though hal just shakes his head.

“it’s okay, i’m fine. i knew you liked him all this time, i kinda assumed so when you declined the second date. i thought i could get you to see there was more out there. more than him but part of me just always knew, it would always be jason.” smiling sweetly.

taking a moment to look into his eyes, you gauge his sincerity. hal only mirrors everything he said because he meant it deeply, and that somehow made it worse. you feel your heart twist.

“i’m sorry,” voice breathy as you purse your lips.

he just smiles and shakes his head, looking up to where jason was before he spins you around. “let’s dance over there yeah?”

feeling his energy shift, you frown and turn around anyway.

big mistake.

you could feel your heart breaking into couple dozen pieces. the girl had her hands in his hair as though they’d just kissed, and you’re standing here feeling like an idiot as she runs her fingers through jason’s hair.

suddenly this party didn’t feel so fun anymore. a small sigh escapes you as you abruptly turn back around to hal, hand touching his chest like you needed it to keep you sane. he clasps his hand over yours and tilts your head up at him.

“it’s okay,” he whispers close by your ear. “you can show him what he’s missing.”

before you could ask what he’d met, he lowers his face to yours and presses his lips against you. a gentle peck meant to prove something that you weren’t even sure you wanted to show. a muffled sound of surprise gets swallowed by his as he deepens the kiss, opening one of his eyes just to see if jason was looking. you feel him smile against your lips as your wide eyes watch his, looking past you to ensure that jason knew exactly what he meant by what he’d been missing.

jason never wanted to come to this party. he’d told grayson as much when called him and told him to stay longer at the cottage because he didn’t want him to bother you.

he was happy for you of course. the fact that you’d gotten into the school of your choice and got what you’d deserve was everything he could have ever hoped for. you were the one person he was sure deserved every part of this.

though jason couldn’t stay in those four walls any longer and not think about how close he was to having you again.

the memories rang like church bells on a sunday morning. there was no escaping it.

now he’s come back to the frat house to go rot in his room when he found that someone already made their way up here and stole his bong. entirely annoyed and grumpy over many different reasons, he made his way downstairs, still in his black tee and grey sweatpants like he didn’t belong there.

as soon as he’s met with the scent of alcohol, jason grimaces from the last time he’d been drinking and recalled the events. he moves his way towards the living room to get away from all the things mixed in the punch that’s was in the kitchen.

though only two steps into the living room, he sees you—dancing. a slight wick of sweat on your brow as you moved carefree, hands on your friends shoulders while her hands were in the air. the way you moved was intoxicating enough for him. the air tightened and the room quieted as he saw you there and jason felt himself moving closer without even realizing, just magnetized to you especially now.

he made it a point to see who else was nearby, watching stephanie take cassandra’s hand and dance closer. then he averted his gaze to the men by the wall and saw the one person he definitely didn’t want to see.

hal fucking jordan.

the blood in his veins boiled for reasons he didn’t want to voice. something tore through his skin like it wanted to break free and grab him by the collar. part of jason wanted to physically fight him, no reason than for how close he’d gotten to you. but you kissed him. or maybe hal kissed you. either way jason knew you well enough to know you wouldn’t kiss him if you didn’t like him or at least didn’t see it heading that way.

jason sighs lowly as he sees hal down the rest of his cup and make his way over to you.

maybe he should get to you first, he thought.

no, you’re happy. at least you looked happy.

he talks himself out of it just as hal touches your hip. still halfway through lunging at him, someone touches jason’s shoulder and he turns to see roy standing next to a redheaded girl.

“jason, my friend here said she thinks you’re good looking.” straight to the point, roy says.

the girl smiles sheepishly, “hi.” her voice hoarse like she’d drank too much already. inebriated enough to have no social awareness.

roy smiles and steps behind her, shooting a wink at jason before leaving them to it. jason cusses under his breath before she drags her hand down his chest.

“woah, you’re like really fit.” giggling as she traces her hands down his pecks.

laughing uncomfortably, he takes her hands gently off his chest. “uh, thanks. did you come here with your friends?”

she hums and leans closer to him, the heady scent of alcohol on her breath as she gets closer. “they don’t mind though. do you mind?”

he looks over her shoulder to see hal with his hands around your waist, speaking in your ear too intimately for his comfort. he tenses at the action but watches as you do the same, your hand at your side clenching and your nails digging into your palms. watching as you bite your lip, not in the way he loved when you wanted him to touch you, but as though you were uncomfortable.

jason turns his attention back to her as she hooks her fingers in his waistband and quickly grabs her hands.

“woah, woah.” still uncomfortably laughing as he presses her hands to her stomach trying hard to keep her away. then he lets her go. “easy.”

“what?” she giggles, running her hands up his back and through his hair. “you got a girlfriend or something?”

immediately he nods, “yeah actually i’m supposed to go meet her so.” he backs up and takes her hands off him once again.

jason looks left and right and spots roy watching from afar. a stupid grin on his face as he waves at jason. giving him an annoyed look, jason gestures him closer and he reluctantly comes. feet slow as he approaches like jason’s an animal that could pounce on him at any moment.

“hey you two,” he points. “you guys alright?”

jason’s scoffs, “yeah asshole. can you make sure she gets to her friends? i don’t think she should be alone this drunk.”

the girl scoffs too, “i don’t need a babysitter.”

he shoots her a look before looking back to roy. the girl waves him off annoyed and moves behind roy to text on her phone. though roy puts his hand over his shoulder and sighs.

“look man, i was just trying to help. i mean she’s moved on, i feel like you should too. get laid and get over her y’know?” gripping his shoulder tight with one hand.

“no,” jason shakes his head. “i’m perfectly fine how i am, thanks.”

“i don’t know dude. i feel like all this yearning isn’t healthy.” roy shrugs and sips his beer.

jason pulls his arm off of him and sideeyes roy like he’s personally offended him. “hal said they kissed once, sure, but i don’t think she really likes him like that.”

“really?” roy says with a grimace on his face, pointing ahead as he stares. “are you sure about that?”

“what do you mean?”

heart pounding in his chest as he follows roy’s gaze to where you stood. reality felt like it had sped through fast and time was slipping from between his fingers. the music faded like a dramatic movie as he watched hal, kissing you.

his lips parted as he watched, mouth gape and his hands balled into fists.

his filthy hands touched your chin and pulled you closer while the other rested on your waist. he watched as he deepened the kiss and leaned closer into you, back arching slightly as your hand unclenched and opened in the air.

jason scoffs loudly, “you have my car keys no?” suddenly asking roy.

roy stammers, pulling the keys from his pocket, “yeah but, are you good? i mean, considering what you just saw—”

jason grabs the keys and walks away quickly. making his way through the crowd and out to the garage, shutting the door behind him shut.

it was clear to him now—you were happier without him around.

only the loud bass and the thumping in your chest could be heard from between you. parting from hal, your hand immediately went up to your mouth. cupping your lips and wiping them unintentionally as you blinked up at him.

“what was that for?” huffing as you stared at him.

“what? i thought you wanted him to know you’re okay without him too.” he furrows his brows.

horrified, you turn around to where jason stood and find him nowhere to be seen. you flicker your gaze over the crowd, over the people, over the dancing bodies and the smoke filled air—but nothing.

jason wasn’t here anymore and that girl wasn’t around either. he was leaving again and now he had absolutely no reason to stay for you.

you push slightly as hal’s chest. “i know you mean well but, i didn’t want him to think—”

“shit,” hal interrupts, his hand at the back of his own neck rubbing soothingly. “i just assumed. fuck, i’m really sorry, i thought… i should’ve asked.”

you were sure you had tears in your eyes now. the thought of jason having to see you with someone else made you feel like your blood had frozen over. the thought of him with that girl, it made you want chewing through your own arm.

you stammer as you back away from him. “i have to find him.”

in recognition, he nods. “yeah, of course. i can explain it to him if anything.”

but you’ve already run from the living room, storming through the crowd like a madwoman. pushing past the drunk people in the hallway and storming up the stairs to his room.

you push the door open and jason isn’t there. just as fast as you went up, you ran back down, heart pounding in your ears as you caught a glimpse of roy sitting on the couch with the same girl as earlier in his lap. you stride right over to them.

“roy,” you gasp. “where’s jason?”

immediately he sees the raw emotion on your face. the way the colour seemed to drain from it and how you seemed like you were about to throw up from the looks of it. his expression shifts from the flirty front he puts on into the friendly, caring one he only recently exposed to you.

he nods slowly. “he took his car keys from me and left. he didn’t say where though i’m sorry.”

the girl in his lap tilts her head at you, clearing sizing you up. “isn’t that the grumpy tall guy? girl don’t even bother, he said he’s got a girlfriend.”

the pang in your chest only tightens as you realized he didn’t even kiss this girl. he told her he had a girlfriend and you knew there was no one else. he was talking about you. and now he’s seen you seemingly making out with hal in his brothers frat and everything fell into place. like pieces of a puzzle that was horribly mixed up.

roy snaps you out of it when he speaks up.

“i parked in the garage if that helps.” his lips in a small frown like he were sorry.

you nod as you back away and head straight for the garage door. feeling tears welling in your eyes and a pit in your stomach as you inch closer.

what if he left already?

what if he’s come to the conclusion that this was all too hard to deal with and he was better off just finding someone new when he got one of those grad schools across the country?

part of you felt guilty now for ever even trying with hal when you don’t feel the spark you desperately craved from one person. but you kept telling yourself you should try. that jason was ignoring you because he had already decided for the both of you.

by the time you get to the door and push it open, you feel entirely sober.

the mustang is still parked there.

you sigh in relief as you get to the passenger seat and yank it open. sitting in the chair quickly and shutting the door behind you just to find jason sitting there gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing grounding him right now.

your name on his tongue was sweeter than it should’ve been on these circumstances.

“what’re you doing here?” he sighs. “shouldn’t you be in there?”

steadying yourself you purse your lips and bite your tongue. jason furrows his brows and tilts his head at you.

“hey,” making you turn to him still unable to entirely meet your gaze. “are you okay?”

you nod as your lip trembles. how do you tell him that you’re madly in love with him and even with a new, perfect guy, all you can imagine is jason.

his demeanor shifts at your inability to respond.

“did he,” jason starts. “did hal hurt you?”

“no, jason.” picking at your nails and sighing. “he didn’t do anything wrong.”

then, slowly, he nods as if in realization. face slipping back to the same blank compliance as before. “right. he’s your boyfriend, sorry.”

“he’s not my boyfriend jason.” you snap. “god, you ignore me all week and then you make think you’re making out with some random girl.”

projecting like you weren’t the one kissing someone else. though that’s besides the point.

“hey, i wasn’t kissing anyone.” flickering his eyes over your face, taking in the way your skin paled. “i swear, i didn’t.”

“you could’ve,” unable to hide the way your voice broke. “i hurt you, so i wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to write me off.”

that makes him scoff more harshly than he intended. “why would i do that when i have…” stopping himself. “when i don’t want them?”

his response only makes you feel worse though the way he was holding himself back from admitting the truth, it only makes you want it more.

“why not?” the words come out small.

jason furrows his brows. “why?”

“yeah,” you look at him, tears still glazing over your eyes. “why not?”

“because,” he stammers. “there’s no timeline on moving on. you can do whatever you want so i can also take my time no?”

“please, you’ve been avoiding me like a sickness and staring at hal like he kicked your dog.”

clenching his jaw, jason sighs heavily. “that’s not true.”

“isn’t it?” scoffing as you watch the side of his face. “you hate me and him and it’s my fault.”

groaning out your name like it hurt to say, “i don’t hate you. i could never hate you.”

“then why are you ignoring me?” you ask, interrupting him before he can do it to you. “and why aren’t you coming to class? you’re never here when i come to see grayson or hal—”

but that clearly pushed a button and jason snaps, raising his voice suddenly.

“because i can’t fucking stand him!”

the sound taking you aback and a small scoff escapes past your lips as you watch him breathe heavier. nodding your head, you turn completely towards him in your seat and tuck a foot under your knee just to look directly at his face.

“you could stand him perfectly fine a couple weeks ago when he wasn’t going out with me.” crossing your arms as you stare at him.

his head shakes as he grips the steering wheel tightly. “it’s not that simple and you know it.”

“oh please, enlighten me then jason.” you press on, entirely over this situation and needing him just as badly as you wanted to hate him.

“you—” he starts and stops again.

you’re watching him as he shuts his eyes and lets out a deep exhale. suddenly he looks up to your side and trails his gaze over your face, lifting his fingers towards you like he’s twitching just to touch you.

in his eyes, you find the same adoration you’ve always loved, but now it’s accompanied by a bitter taste.

“when i see you with him,” jason starts, “it feels like i’m suffocating. the air around me has been sucked away and i can’t do anything about it cause i did it to myself.”

parting your lips as you watch him confess what he’s hidden for weeks, you listen. brows upturning as he shakily breathes out your name and presses on.

“it’s selfish, i know. you’re your own person and i ruined us with all the lies. so you’re more than allowed to date other people. i just can’t… i can’t be around it. i won’t.” gulping as he looks at your hands in your lap now, wanting badly to hold them in his. “i know there’s too much baggage between us and i hurt you. i’m just so sorry. so fucking sorry i couldn’t fix it.”

his tone upturned at the end as though he’d contemplated within himself before voicing it.

“—is that why you’re leaving?” interrupting his thoughts and barely concealing the emotions that threatened to spill over. “because of me?”

something in his eyes seem to soften then, flickering and fanning out like all hope had dissipated.

his voice is quiet and unsure as he rasps. “what?”

“you don’t have to lie jason and you sure as shit don’t have to avoid me like the plague. i just wanted to feel wanted like a person and not a fucking prize.” slow tears slipping down your warm cheeks. “you never told me you were going to leave.”

taking a large gulp, he shakes his head. “i was never going to leave you.”

but you’re shaking your head. “i know you applied to grad schools across the country and i know you got in. i just can’t understand why you hid that part from me.”

furrowing his brows like he’s trying to understand where you got to that conclusion, he looks deep in thought. then recognition flickers behind his eyes and he leans closer, clasping your hands in his. staring into your eyes like he were sorry. you sniffle as he takes your hands and try not to sob at how royally you’d felt like you’d fucked this up.

“bruce told you at gordon’s event didn’t he? fuck, i wanted to be the one to do it.” he searches your face when you look down into your lap. though jason follows your gaze. “i’m sorry. i said no more lies and i hid this unintentionally ma.”

he leans even closer, enough to smell your perfume and the slight intoxicating scent of lingering weed illuminating between you. jason sighs and holds back his own emotions. “i feel like i’m always apologizing to you like an idiot.”

between quiet sniffles you find yourself leaning closer to him, searching unconsciously for comfort. you lean your head onto his shoulder.

“you’re not an idiot. i just can’t stand to lose you jay.” the quiet admission slips.

immediately he cradles your head there, leaning his own head on top of yours and gently touching your cheek. he whispers a small shaky noise that sounded to your name before he takes a shallow breath.

“you’re allowed to be happy. if he’s making you happy then i want that for you.”

you pull away to look at him, the emotion evident all over your face now that he could see it again.

“damn it jason, i’m not fucking happy! i didn’t move on,” elevating your voice like you were speaking to yourself more than him. probably still more intoxicated than you felt. “i don’t love hal. i don’t, love anyone else but—” you cut yourself off.

the car suddenly feels a lot smaller. the doors seemingly doing nothing to make you feel closer to jason despite how close you sat next to another. the silence stretched for what felt like minutes but was only seconds.

though jason, his eyes were glued to yours.

“you love someone else?” voice small as he carefully watches you. waiting patiently for you to fill in blanks he desperately wanted to be right about.

slowly, you nod as a tear slips down your face. “you jason. it’s you.”

then he moves. his hands touch your face delicately. thumb grazing over the warm tear as he held you close. from how close you sat now, you could see the tears welling in his eyes and the relief that flooded as he watched you in awe.

“you love me?” breathlessly, he said.

unable to say anything through your broken tears, a sob breaks out as you nod. jason presses his forehead to yours and whispers your name, over and over like he’s counting his blessings.

“please,” he rasps, “please say it. i want to hear it ma, please.”

between sobs, you melt against him. tears wetting your lashes and landing on his skin.

“i love you jason todd. i love you so much that it’s ruining my life.” laughing at yourself a little at the end when he joins in and smiles.

“yeah baby? well, the feeling is mutual and i love you more than i’ve ever loved anything or anyone.” gazing into your eyes like it held the key to all of his prayers.

pulling you closer as though there wasn’t a dashboard between you, all resolve crumbs as you climb over it and into his lap, straddling him tight. his hand grazes over you hair and pushes it back as he makes you face him, wiping the tear streaks from your skin. he shushes you as you sniffle.

“don’t cry baby, i’m not leaving. i’m never leaving you again. you hear me?” kissing your cheeks as you pull at his shirt. “i didn’t pick a school yet. i haven’t chosen one because i can’t breathe if you’re not close.”

you hum as you pull at his shirt again, tugging him closer and letting him lean you against the steering wheel. pulling his hair back to watch his handsome face smile up at you. your eyes flicker to his lips and he smiles brightly as he drops his hands to your thighs, kneading the plush there.

“you want something princess?” teasing despite the circumstances.

you can’t help but laugh and roll your eyes. “just kiss me already jason.”

“for you? anything.”

then he’s on you, pressing his perfect lips to yours. it feels like you’re floating over yourself as he deepens it, holding you tight against him as he pushes his tongue down your throat. you moan into his mouth as your hips mindlessly shift against him. jason groans and bucks his hips slightly, biting your lip to make the sweet sound slip past your lips and to his ears.

“baby,” rasping against your mouth.

though you don’t part, instead you tug at his shirt and pull up the hem. jason gets the message immediately, letting you pull it up enough for him to take it off all the way. his shirt is tossed to the side when you trail your fingers down his abs, touching the hard muscle that you missed desperately. you graze your fingers up and down while you kiss down his jaw, eliciting a gorgeous moan from him that was music to your ears.

fumbling with your skirt while you undid his belt, you could feel how hard he was beneath you, pressing into your inner thigh.

“are you sure?” breathlessly he says while you nip up by his ear.

nodding, you moan against his skin, biting the love and kneading it with your teeth.

“yeah jay.” you rasp. “i need you.”

it’s enough to spur him further, hiking up your skirt as you push his jeans down with his boxers. you feel his hard length against your bare inner thigh, painfully hard and leaking in your need.

he’s moving to pull your panties down when you stop him, taking his hand and guiding him to push them to the side instead. urgency in your movements as you watch the realization in his eyes. jason only smiles as you guide his length to press against you. the message is clear as he nods and kisses you again, pecking your lips in little movements as though savouring you.

then you’re pressing down against him, mouth parting as you take him. seating yourself down as he holds you, guiding your hips when you try to take him at once. jason stops you before you try to let him all the way in. he sighs like he’s straining himself.

“breathe baby,” gulping as sweat wicks his forehead. “no rush. breathe. it’s all yours yeah? i’m all yours.”

you nod as you lean forward again, capturing his lips and lapping at him. he tightens his hold on you as you tilt your head, pressing him further into his seat as you begin to shift your hips. sinking further down against him, jason guides you there.

he doesn’t thrust up into you when you take him completely. instead, he parts from your lips, letting you breathe with a line of spit between you from how desperately you both needed eachother. jason groans lowly as you continue to shift your hips, dropping his head against the seat as praises escape from your lips.

“so good jay,” whining as you bounce against him. “you’re so perfect baby.”

jason returns the whine and bites his lip. this only excites you further, knowing how it pushes his buttons and turns him on. you know your man. grinding against him harder, you moan as he kneads your ass in his palms. little moans and words of affirmation as the signs of him losing himself made you want it more.

“i love you,” he moans helplessly, saying your name over and over. “god, i love you so much.”

“i love you too baby.” you whisper against his lips. “you’re so good. fuck, you’re so big.”

he makes another whimpering sound, his hips stuttering against yours as your movements only grew wilder.

“shit baby, don’t say that. i’m gonna lose it.” groaning as he throws his head back again, entirely lost in the feeling of you.

the peak was creeping over on you too. you could feel yourself there, sensitive enough to let go, but not enough to get him there first. hips moving in tandem with yours as he bucked up into you.

“good,” you sighed dreamily, smiling down at jason who’s just barely keeping it together. “i want you to let go.”

“oh fuck,” he moans.

he bites his lip so hard you think he’s gonna make it bleed. fingers digging into your thighs like an anchor. another whimpering sound that grew into a moan as he dropped his head to your chest. lazily grinding against you as he held you tight against him.

“please jay,” knowing exactly what you were doing. voice breathy and seductive. “i wanna feel it inside me.”

the response is immediately as he sputter and loses all semblance of himself. his hips buck up, once, twice, kissing your cervix when he holds it deep. letting go and painting you white as he made swallow thrusts. he doesn’t slow his hips when he comes, he wants you to feel it all.

the feeling crashes over you as soon as you feel his, crying out as he held you through it and guiding your hips even as he borders on overstimulation. he makes sure to rock you through your peak, lazily grinding as you gasped for air and moaned into his neck.

melting into him while he caught his breath and slowed his hips to let you come down. keeping you close, he pulls you further to collapse against his chest, sucking in a sharp breath and sighs. his spent leaking onto his lap and he couldn’t be bothered.

the only sound in the car was heavy panting and the sweet musk of sex. blissfully you find yourself grinning faintly, feeling his chest rising and falling and his hands running soothing paths on your skin.

“i meant it.” he admits while you’re still reeling.

you hum quietly to tell him to continue.

“that i love you. that i’m never leaving you.” already kissing your dampened hair as he remained seated inside you.

“i meant it too,” you croaked, entirely spent. “i love you jason todd.”

the smile on his face could be felt through your hair, and he laughed as he tightened his hold around you. almost crushing but you couldn’t care less if you tried.

“so,” his voice still sounded unsure like he was gauging your opinion and didn’t want to overstep. “does this mean i can call you my girlfriend now?”

putting a hand to his chest to lift yourself, you look him in the eyes. squinting as you smack his chest lightly.

“i’ll kill you if you don’t.”

a slow smile creeps over his handsome face. the expression only makes you want to jump his bones like he wasn’t hardening inside of you all over again. jason cups your cheek and pulls you in for another sloppy, wet kiss. slipping his tongue past your lips and biting your lip as you try to part. humming along as he speaks with his eyes half lidded.

“good. cause i’m gotham u offers a good criminology masters program and i’m thinking of accepting it.” pressing his lips to your nose and to your forehead. the sensation makes you giggle.

it takes a moment for the implication of his words to fully register. with barely concealed excitement,“gotham u?”

he nods dreamily with his eyes half lidded, watching you. “well if my girlfriend is still going there then—”

“yes!” you shove him further into his seat, taking the turn to kiss all over his face. “a million times yes. don’t you dare,” speaking between kisses, “change your mind.”

he pinches your side to lean his forehead against yours again, hand traveling up to cup your cheeks. the look in his eyes felt like he was trying to memorize how you felt and brand it to his skin, the longing stare he always harboured around you.

the way he held you close to his heart was reminiscent to worship. for the first time in months, you felt love unconditionally and unapologetically reciprocated.

in his gaze, you could drown.

“i wouldn’t dream of it ma.” eyes twinkling as he stared at you.

looking into his eyes, the future didn’t feel so scary anymore.

If anyone knew how to ruin something good, it was you.

All that you had to do was get inside and make friends with some of the people in the Avengers tower. But the mighty Avengers were a group of saps, and that made your plans so much harder to carry out.

They practically melted for you.

Against your better judgment, you let yourself into their lives. Everyone there loved you, and you let them think you did too. Even though deep down a part of you wanted to let it be real, you remind yourself of what they lacked, and what you'd lost in the face of these so-called “heroes." 

At first, Steve was the one who felt the most for you. He took pity and empathized with you like a kindhearted moron, thinking he'd made a grave discovery and recognized the potential you posed for the team. As if you didn't plan for that to happen all along and planted that seed in his mind the moment he met you.

You were trained for this kind of manipulation, and you weren't going to feel bad for it, not when you had something to achieve and no one to fall back on.

With nothing to lose, what's a little heartbreak?

You told them of your parents' passing when you were young, leaving you with no family other than the immediate ones who were already dead. What you didn't tell them was how they were killed, just brushing it off as something that happened too young for you to remember. Though you knew it all too well, and you were there for a reason. 

You let Steve take credit for your idea of becoming an Avenger, and they all fell perfectly for your little plan. 

It was Steve who introduced you to Tony—the man you were there to kill. 

You put on a fake smile and tucked your hands behind you, keeping yourself from inching forward and carrying out your mission. You'd spent so many years of your life having Tony's image drilled into your mind as the villain who was posing himself as a hero, telling yourself that he was utterly deserving of the smear campaign you originally planned to put him through. That was before you got close to the team. Before you landed on the idea of killing him, because you were finally close enough. The proximity that joining the team allowed you, it tempted you regularly, but you had to wait for the right moment. Pretending like you didn't hate Tony's guts was probably the hardest part. 

You infiltrated their trust and broke into their space. You took root inside their lives from the inside, and they welcomed you in with open arms. Like the perfect orchestration of a gorgeous tune, you drew the trap and they all fell inside, letting the kindness you showed them translate into trust and love. But you? You played the greatest trick on yourself. 

The grandest part of the scheme was the relationships you formed and the love you pretended to have for too long. Until that became real, because the truth was, you were never faking.

Bruce offered up his friendship and Clint his home like you were one of their own. Far too trusting for people who were meant to be protectors and careful assessors of danger. It was hard to pretend like the warmth you felt wasn't real when Clint baked cookies with his family and brought you some, or when Natasha would peel an orange and hand you half quietly. Natasha made it infinitely harder to hate her when she'd train with you endlessly as though she wanted to prepare you for when she wouldn't be around. She became your closest thing to a best friend you were sure you ever had— until she died.

They were all family that you loved despite it all. You let yourself believe that maybe you could have some sense of normalcy, that you could let your guard down even a little bit, and you let too many people in. 

Some people more than most— like Bucky. 

You didn't plan on falling for Bucky; you didn't even want to pretend like you loved him until you really did. But you had your own plans, your own mission, and your own vengeance to achieve, so stepping on some toes and hurting some feelings didn't mean shit to you. Even if it was the man that you didn't mean to fall for, who was carrying the brunt of the bargain. 

Bucky made it so hard to ignore him, with his soft smiles and his hand on your hip when you'd spar. His warm palm on your shoulder when you were out gazing on the balcony too long, and calling you to come inside for a cup of tea that he knew you would like. When your guard would fall, just for him, and he wouldn't push you for information, sitting in your silence with you. Because Bucky knew what it was like to get lost in your thoughts, and your mind is a war in itself.

Bucky watched you and knew you had your demons; he just hoped that in time you'd tell him about them. Slowly, you stopped calling him Barnes. You didn't know it yet, but you helped him take back his name, calling him James when others would call him Bucky.

Just being around him made you feel more human—more alive.

And damn him for making you care.

You hated how he made your heart flutter around him and your stomach drop when you'd worry for him. You shoved him into a wall once after he returned from mission, when he wouldn't answer you because he was occupied with disarming someone. One gruelling hour of him not responding over the comms on a mission you took as partners.

He came back to the jet with a few scratches on his face, but nothing major, and you still felt like you couldn't breathe at the thought of him not coming back. His chest heaved as you put a finger in his face, and his gaze seemed to soften in recognition that you were afraid, that you were scared of losing him.

It didn't take long for you to push him again and for him to catch your wrists, pulling you in, flush against him.

That was the first time he kissed you, swallowing your whimpered protest when you’d fisted his shirt and drawn him further into you. Desperately, you couldn’t even pretend like you didn’t want him once you’d touched. The two of you moved in unison toward the jet's couch as he walked you backwards, stripping you from your clothes without breaking the kiss. He lay you down like a careful art, taking his time while you calmed from the bottled-up emotions you refused to express out loud.

He loved you gently and softened the rough ends of his exterior so you could let yourself sit in the feelings that he also struggled to outwardly express. When you finally let him in and stopped pushing him away, he didn't just sleep with you, but he made love to someone for the first time since Hydra took him away. Truthfully, it was the first time he ever loved someone so deeply, and it scared him, but he knew it scared you too, so he let it consume him whole— for both of you. He did it again, and again, and he would've kept doing it if you'd let him. 

Bucky took you apart and put you back together as though you were his favourite mystery, caressing you like a Goddess on Earth.

Every touch felt like a blessing and in his mind leaving any part of you untouched was a sin.

Leaving bites over the scars on your skin, buried under layers of clothes that no one else had touched this delicately. You were completely and undeniably his. Neither of you ever told anyone about it, and how he held you after missions went wrong or how you sat with him when his nightmares wouldn’t let him sleep. Bucky never pushed you for anything more. He was afraid of you losing interest, so he tried to build your relationship silently.

When you wouldn't come out of your room for dinner, he'd bring it to you, cooking things he knew were your comfort food. He'd knock silently and linger there just to make sure you really did eat it. He made quiet dinners for just the two of you, leaving specks of food on his shirt or his brow as evidence of his labour.

After going to the bar with the team one night, and you drank too much, and he offered to take you home. You, however, were entirely wasted and couldn’t give proper directions.

Bucky took you to an apartment that no one else knew he had and let you sleep it off there. Except you cried like a wounded, inconsolable child, and he felt the heaviness of your sorrow like it was resting on his chest. He gave you a key to keep going there the next day, and you never gave it back. 

Part of you knows you'll always be his, even after you have to break his heart. He would unwrap you over and over again like a gift he was grateful to receive. He held you after it all, and you knew it wouldn't be the last time because of how safe you'd felt in his embrace. And Bucky knew from the moment Steve introduced you that he wouldn't be able to let you go. That you were and are the reason he'd wake up in the morning despite his nightmares and demons. You made it all worthwhile for him.

You fell hard for him, head over heels and disgustingly in love. But Bucky fell so much harder, unravelling for you after years of conditioning and trauma that ran deep. You chipped away at his walls by letting him love you and letting yourself love him back.

It wasn't because of your mission that you did it. You truly did care for him and you wanted to tend to his wounds that cut through his mind like a plague. It all happened so fast that you couldn't stop it. You couldn't help the way you loved him so deeply that you wanted any part of him you could have, even if it was for a little while. Even if the love was built on lies and deceit.

You knew that once he found out, nothing would be the same, and the two of you would never be able to go back. So you settled for now, stealing kisses between missions and meeting him in his bedroom when everyone else fell asleep. He settled for holding your hand under the briefing table and bringing you snacks that he knew you loved, even when you'd push him away.

Despite your reluctance, he wanted you the same way you wanted him. He would take any bits you offered him because, in his mind, he wasn't worthy of anything else — and you helped him break that barrier of self-deprication by loving his scars like your own. 

It was Bucky Barnes who had to stop you when you cornered Tony in the lab. It was Bucky who caught you in the grand act of your plan and had to witness everything about your relationship crash and burn in front of him. You didn't want to do it like this, but you had no choice now. 

After the annual Gala that Tony threw in honour of his father, Howard Stark, the sack of shit who mindlessly supplied weapons to the most immoral people across the country, and even larger weapons of destruction overseas. It didn't fucking matter that Tony didn't do it himself, but he was aware, and that was more than enough. Tony worked with his father, did demonstrations of his destructive weapons, and had years of experience helping with the supplies before he was abducted.

It took seeing the destruction, feeling the pain that had been felt for decades through his own suffering, for him to understand the gravity of the shit he was part of. The fact that he couldn't come to that conclusion without all of that unnecessary suffering that made your blood boil.

After he praised his father and Stark Industries' history at the Gala, you couldn't take it anymore. 

You were getting too emotional. 

So you followed him into the lab, using your stealth training to sneak in behind him, just before the doors would have locked. Using the training the team had helped teach you against him, you made your move. Your hand on your holster, you silently pulled it out and pointed it towards the back of his head, mind full of doubt and unsteady conviction that told you this was what you had to do. 

His voice startled you as he was still facing the computers, "You've finally come to finish the job, huh?" 

You scoff, gripping your gun a little tighter, "You knew that I was going to do this, and still you let me join."

Tony turns to face you, his hand still holding his glass of whiskey he'd been coddling all night. You were watching him while everyone else conversed— while Steve asked if you were alright, and Bucky tried meeting your gaze. This anger was bright and intense, and it was all his fault. Maybe if he weren't alive, it might calm your thoughts— 

"Well, it's taken you what? Over a year to muster up the courage to kill me. You really think I don't do intensive background checks, sweetheart? Go on then, take your shot." He brought his glass to his lips and drank, testing you. "But you know this is quite ironic, right?" 

Tony was always skilled at this type of thing, riling people up and seeking a reaction. 

Shoving the magazine into place fully, your finger danced over the trigger, "Don't tempt me, Stark. I’ve wanted to do this for a long time."

He steps closer to you, "then why the hell didn't you? You could have, hell, you probably should have done it before you got the rest of the team attached to you."

You didn't let your expression fall, remaining as stoic as you could as you spoke, "I'm only here for you." 

Despite your differences and wanting him dead, you'd grown fond of Tony.

Tony says your name, the sound slightly slurred from drinking too much all night, which you were banking on. A hint of tenderness behind his voice, as though speaking to an old friend. Having him not entirely lucid would've made this easier, but alas, Tony was always even more talkative than usual when he was drunk.

"I know what Stark Industries did to your family and what they," he pauses to correct himself, "what we took. I know I'm not perfect, but you have to acknowledge that what you've done is evil just as the rest." Though his words felt harsh, he spoke as though he wanted you to know it was okay. That he understood. "Just tell me, is revenge what you truly want?"

You didn't trust your voice, so instead you nodded. He continues with the soft scoff, "Did you ever even really care?"

Your breath hitched as the words sank in. You did care, you cared so deeply that it hurt. Still, you let your hurt evolve and eventually involve the people you'd gotten to love. The people you were supposed to hate. But that didn't matter now; you knew you were too far gone. The only thing that should have been on your mind was killing the man in front of you for the crimes of his company. The crimes of his father and his father's father, even if you knew your judgment was bordering on playing God. 

Taking on the role of judge, jury, and executioner, because someone had to, right? If you had to be somebody's villain, then fine, as long as you finally felt like you'd done something. Done anything to ease the pain of the younger version of yourself that lost so much and vowed to do something about it. You shift the weight of the gun in your hand and look back up into Tony's eyes, unrelenting on you. 

You're about to answer him when the door slides open, shifting your focus from Tony and taking in the two men storming in. Bucky and Steve emerged in the midst of a conversation as they took in the scene before them and froze. Bucky's eyes immediately fell on you — gun in your hand, cocked and pointed at Tony. It was unmistakable that you had been playing them, but Bucky didn't want to believe it, not even when Steve put a hand to his shoulder and tried to keep him from moving closer to you. 

He says your name, his voice careful and soft, "What are you doing?" 

You take a shaky breath, trying not to meet his gaze and feigning unamusement, "What does it look like, Barnes?"

The sharpness of your tone made his brows knit into a pained expression. The use of his last name and not calling him James, like you usually would, punched him in the gut. You weren't here to coddle him or anyone else, including yourself. He says your name like he's pleading for you, and you shut your eyes, masking your emotions and swiftly swiping a forming tear away. 

"Don't do this," his voice a pleading whisper as he inches closer to you, but you don't let him.

You ignore him and kick Tony in the back of the knee, knocking him over. You turn to face Bucky, just as he's about to touch you.

The gun turns to him, and he inhales sharply, his resolve crumbling, "baby."

"Don't," you try to hide the shakiness in your voice as Steve also inches closer, "don't call me that and just stay right fucking there. I'm not here for either of you, just Tony."

Bucky's face drops further, a bitterness forming in his mouth as he repeats your harsh words back, "you were never here for me," repeating after you like each word was ripping his throat raw as he said it, "you're here for Stark."

Reluctantly, you nod. This was your mission, this was the vengeance you needed since you were a child, and you'd gone and made it a hell of a lot harder. He nods back, the gears in his mind turning, and his breathing uneven. You knew his tells when he was nervous or in pain, or on the verge of an anxiety attack. This was the ladder, and you were fighting the urge to run to him and explain yourself, but there was no time. There was no point now. 

You bite back the words; I love you, James. I'm so sorry. But you never say it. 

You fire a single round next to where Steve was, making him flinch. Warning him to stop inching closer when he thought you were distracted. Tony looks up to Steve, and they both look at each other like they were asking the other what to do. But Bucky, his gaze never falters from yours. He watches you like he knew this would be the last time, and you swore you could hear his heart breaking. You lower your gaze from his. 

"Both of you need to leave," taking cautious steps away from them and pointing the gun back at Tony. 

"Like hell we are," Steve says as Buckys voice fails to find him. 

Tony looks up at them, "Yeah, guys, listen to the lady. Save yourselves and leave. This is my fight. I made my bed, didn't I, sweetheart?" 

"Shut up, Stark, we aren't leaving." Steve stands, and this time you let him. He says your name like he's reprimanding you, "You need to think about what you're doing, think about the team."

You say nothing, and Steve's eyes catch Buckys briefly. The frustration inside you boils over when Steve speaks again, "Think of how you're hurting Bucky." 

"This isn't about him or us." The sharpness is heavily evident in your tone. 

Bucky's voice seems to find him as your gaze meets accidentally his, his eyes glazed over like he was on the verge of tears, "Isn't it always about us?" 

You don't respond, you can't. 

His big, beautiful, blue eyes were blown out despite how little you seemed to care in this moment for his feelings, or how little you chose to show.

He sees your internal turmoil and inches closer, "Please, I love you. Don't do this."

You bite your lip to stop it from quivering. He hadn't ever admitted his feelings so raw to you, just shown it in a lack of the words he couldn't find just yet. You ignore the loud pattering of your heart as you press the barrel of the gun to his chest, and he just lets you, leaning into it and wrapping his hand around yours— not believing that you'd really shoot him. 

You knew that after this, after killing Tony, Bucky would be far from loving you for what you had done. You weren't sure if you could even blame him for it. If you were in his shoes, you'd assume the same, that you had used him; his time, empathy, and courage to love again. If you were him, you'd hate yourself for making him love like this, and for what? Revenge? Peace of mind? 

You made him feel utterly used all over again, even after he had exposed all his scars to you and told you about his past. You listened with open arms and welcomed him into your embrace, kissing his hands, both metal and flesh, and whispering to him that he was worthy. Breaking his walls down just to make him build them up even higher. 

This is why you weren't supposed to let yourself get too close and too attached to the life you could've had with him and not the one for your own preservation. Vengeance had consumed you whole since the night your parents had died from a senseless attack carrying weapons etched with an Stark Industries on the barrel. How easily accessible these weapons became for people in your neighbourhood to find and purchase, and for worse individuals to buy in mass. All because the Stark family name had to be the top weapons manufacturer, no matter the cost and no matter the lives lost. 

You thought of the bloodshed, of the killings and the destruction that they caused and your blood boiled again. All because Stark Industries didn't do background checks on who they sold their weapons to. Bloomed bright with intentful retribution, you had convinced yourself; this was the only way. 

You let him lean in close, one last time. The familiar scent of him filled your lungs as he gazed into your eyes as though he were begging for you to snap out of it. But you were more yourself now than you had ever been, and you swallowed down the lump in your throat, inching a little closer to him.

"Then you're an idiot for loving me." You pulled your head back just enough to slam into his forehead and send him staggering a few feet backward, and he let your hand go. Before you knew it, he was focused on you again, whispering your name like a call to prayer.

Your hand moved too quickly for him to catch you, and you shot at Tony, striking him between the shoulder blades. Before Tony even falls over and grunts in pain, and Bucky grabs you. He knocks the gun from your hand and topples you over to the ground. 

"Get off of me!" you thrash but he doesn't relent.

He hovers over you, his legs on either side of your body. He thinks he's successfully disarmed you, leaning over and giving you an emphatic look despite how harsh your words and tone was. Despite how you had just shot Tony right in front of him, proving your lack of loyalty to the team.

Desperately clinging onto the hope that you still love him, or that the love was ever real. You buck your hips up high, trying to get him off of you, but he was far heavier than you. You're thrashing beneath him, and he holds your left arm with his flesh one, the metal one caressing your face—an action you helped him learn to do to prove every part of him was worthy to you. 

Steve was holding Tony's wound tight to keep him from bleeding out, but the crimson was spreading fast. The blood is pooling and reaching where you and Bucky were.

Bucky's eyes were glazed over and teary, threatening to fall down his face. The same face that you had become so enamoured with. 

"Please, baby, I don't wanna hurt you," he pleads. 

But you do the one thing you knew would hurt him most. You reach up with your free hand, grazing over his metal arm like you used to, soft and tender with your gaze still on his, a reminder of your intimacy before ruining the trust between you. 

"But I have to hurt you, James," you admit before a mechanical click shifts from beneath your fingertips and his arm dismounts his body, clattering to the floor. 

He leans back off of you, his gaze falling to the vibranium arm before up to your face. Shocked and pained. His expression was beyond broken now, and you wanted so badly to take it back just as you did it, but this was how you made him hate you. A tear slips from his face and lands on your cheek as he stares down at you, never blinking, just staring in utter disbelief. 

Your heart aches and hate yourself for what you were doing, but you seize the opportunity while he is distracted. Shoving Bucky off of you fully, and he doesn't do anything to stop you, his eyes remaining on where you were just lying beneath him. The warmth of your cheek lingering under his phantom arm as he looks to it. 

You don't look back, you don't grab your gun off the ground, and you don't wish to meet anyone's gaze—especially not Buckys. 

You ignore whatever Steve was shouting to Bucky and stride your legs forward. Panting hard, you push yourself toward the glass windows, throwing a chair and causing it to shatter. You were prepared to jump when a bullet flies and grazes you in the side, coaxing a pained shriek from you as your legs work mindlessly, pumping and continuing to push you forward. Adrenaline fuels you as you glance briefly over your shoulder, just in time to see Bucky, with your gun in his hand and his expression utterly shattered like you'd never seen. 

This couldn't be love, because love shouldn't hurt like this. Love shouldn't bleed like this. 

He has to hate you now.

You turn back and leap through the broken glass, Buckys face the last thing on your mind as you descend from the tower. When Bucky ran to look over the edge of the shattered window, looking to where you had landed, you were already gone. The only thing you left behind was the pool of blood Tony was rasping in and a trail of yours, from the wound Bucky had given you.

New York quickly became the place you hated most, so you left the busy streets behind. 

The following weeks left you on a manhunt, from the Avengers, law enforcement, and Bucky Barnes. 

For the next several months, you avoided all places they frequented. After betraying all your friends, you didn't feel the most enthusiastic to return to any place they might be or risk incarceration. Especially not after attempting to kill Tony and finding out through news channels that he had died in a way that you hated— because it was honourable. He did the one thing you never thought he could, and was a hero in the very end. 

This sent you into a spiral that felt endless, and you became a mess of yourself. You started to get sloppy and started seeking old comforts. Natasha's voice would play in your head, nagging you to watch your six and mind the corners of buildings when you crossed the street. She would be the voice of reason in your head when you reached for the phone with no SIM card in your bedroom drawer and contemplated using it to call Bucky. 

She would play in your mind when you went to the deli with the sandwiches Bucky loved and bought his order just to imagine how it would feel to be him. How would it feel to be defiled by the woman you loved? To relearn love just to be used to get to someone else?

You would ruin your own appetite often, and you weren't sure if it was cause of your spiralling thoughts or the fact that you were hallucinating the voice of your dead best friend. 

One winter night, you wore an old jacket that still smelled faintly like Bucky, missing his touch more than usual. Your hands shoved into your pockets, and the jacket zipped up high, covering your nose. You felt the cold metal of something in your pocket. With peaked interest, you pulled your hand out and stared at the key in your hand, the one to the apartment Bucky had. The one he hardly went to. In your mind, it felt like a sign to go there, to feel the air that you both once breathed together in and memorize the smells. You couldn't help it; your legs carried you there without considering the consequences. 

Carefully, you unlocked the door with a swallow creak that echoed in the dark and nearly empty space. Bucky was never one for much decoration, so the apartment only had the necessary furniture and appliances and throw pillows you lent him that never went back home with you. Kicking your shoes off, you walked over to the kitchen, drawn by the hum of the refrigerator. Once you walked close enough, you froze. The fridge was open, the light still on.

Fuck, someone was here. 

Your name is said so softly, so gently, spoken as though afraid it might scare you away. Like he wasn't sure if it was you or a dream. You already knew who it was without even seeing his face.

You turn slowly to meet his eyes—evaluating. 

"James," you breathe, hands clenched inside your jacket pockets. 

The look on his face made you feel all the more worse. His eyes were sunken in like he hadn't slept, red and rimmed. In his hand was a case file with your name on it. 

"I thought you were really gone," the file drops to the floor as he reaches for your face, "I thought you were dead." 

Not expecting him to touch you, you take his hand off of you, "I shouldn't have come here," you sputtered, moving out of the kitchen. 

Bucky followed you out of the room, hot on your tail. You could feel the sharp daggers of his gaze prickling at your back.

He calls out after you, "Hey," you keep walking, ignoring him. he says your name, footsteps heavy after you, "I am talking to you, dammit!" 

Still, you pretended not to feel his presence behind you, walking fast through the hallway. But he wouldn't let you get away from this conversation, not again, and he grabs you by your arm, pulling roughly. "Stop ignoring me," he spat out, glaring at you, "quit shutting me out, you left for months,"

"I can't do this right now, Bucky." you hiss

He flinches at that use of his name, grip tightening, "You can't do this right now, huh? You came here to what, then? Torment me further? Kill me like you tried with Stark? You leave me in the dark for seven months, and you're the one who can't do this right now?" 

You pretend like his tone wasn't puncturing your heart and pull your arm, but he doesn't relent.

His eyes were piercing with intensity and frustration, "Do you have any idea what it's been like, wondering why you pretended to love me? Wondering why you left me like that when I would've given anything you wanted?" his voice rose quickly. 

You try to interrupt him, "You don't understand—"

"You're damn right, I don't understand! Fuck, why did you even come back here if you want to leave so badly? You wanted to disappear, so why come back?" His emotions rose in his tone.

You try again, mumbling his name, but he stops you, yanking you closer, "Shut up and fucking listen! For once in your life, listen to me!" his chest rises and falls, "You could've talked to me and told me what was going on, but instead you just ran!"

"You shot at me!" you counter. 

"You took my arm off of me!" he practically screams your name at you, "If I wanted to fucking shoot you, we both know I wouldn’t have missed.”

You gulp at the realization; he presses closer.

“You used me to get to him, and you knew," his voice breaks, "you knew what that was going to do to me, and you did it anyway."

Everything in his face looked sunken in, like he wasn't taking care of himself since you disappeared. Suddenly, your surroundings overwhelmed you like skeletons in the closet. Dozens of empty cans of beer and bottles of whiskey. Even though he couldn't get drunk, it looked like he had desperately tried. Packages next to the front door, labelled in Sam's handwriting, urging him to eat something inside them. Cardboard boxes full of cases, papers etched over the ground from when he had been frantically rummaging through for any kind of clue.

You hadn't gotten to see just how affected he was until now, and it was eating you alive more than you had already been doing to yourself. 

"You've ruined me. I'm ruined and you're here just to leave me, again." His thumb stroked your cheek lovingly and tenderly, while his words came out broken.

"The worst part is I would let you use me so long as you came back. Why wouldn't you come back for me?" his words sounding utterly broken and more of a statement than a question.

"I should have, James. I didn't mean for it to happen like that—" 

He pushes you against the door to the bedroom, your back hitting it with a thud. Arms on either side as his hips press against yours, pinning you there.

"Don't. Just don't lie to me anymore," he rasps, "you did what you had to, right? You had to use me like a pawn, and I just rolled over for you."

You can't help how your words get lost on you, and you drown in the intensity of his sharp gaze. The tenderness in those blue eyes that you grew to love was gone, but still you desired him more than anything else, and you couldn't help how your eyes flickered over his perfect, plump lips. Even in this moment, you burned for him and only him. His gaze turns into something deeper, something between hurt and lust that you barely recognized. Everything about his body language screamed that he was restraining himself from you. 

He catches your gaze, and his hand mindlessly lifts, caressing the side of your face. 

"God, if you wanted to hurt me, shooting me in the head would have hurt less." chest heaving against yours. 

Tears prickled at your eyes, "I am so sorry, Bucky, I really am."

He shakes his head slowly, "You don't get to apologize, not when you still have me undone for you." His eyes are boring into yours, but his words contrast with his actions: "I fucking hate you, and I want you just as broken by this as I am."

You gulp, "I am broken by this," his hand finds the doorknob and pushes it open, pulling you inside with him. 

"No, you wanted to use me," he walks you backwards and shoves you onto the mattress, and you let him. "I'll show you what it's like to be used."

"James—" you try as he flips you over onto your stomach.

"You want me to stop? You tell me now. Otherwise, I don't wanna hear anymore lies from you."

But you can't tell him to stop. You want him, you'll always want him.

When you turn your head to look at him and nod, he pulls at your hips and keeps you on the edge of the bed as he practically rips your pants off you. Gasping as his metal knuckles grazed up your spine, pulling the fabric up with it and sending shivers like he knew it would.

The way he feels makes your core ache for him despite it all. You missed this— you missed all of him like an addict to his touch. Arching as he presses into you from behind, fisting your hair as he ruts himself against you, reminding you of what could have been.

Bucky was more than just a means to an end, and you wanted him to know that, but how could you? That you are capable of using him despite knowing his past? How do you convince him that you loved him when you'd shown him that you didn't want him? That he shouldn't want you?You've already shown your care to him, and he's well aware of how you'd used him, so maybe hating you was the only answer. Love might not be in your cards, but in this moment, your resilience was pouring through the cracks. If he hated you, then he would be okay, and the damaged parts of you couldn't reach him anymore. 

He leans over your back and shifts his hand from your hair to your throat; tight enough to threaten.

"You wanted this all along, didn't you?" breaths hot against your ear as his belt clinks open, "I've just been a bit of fun for you? An easy, broken man you could use over and over? A quick fuck?" 

Your lip quivers, "You were always more than that."

He releases your throat. Reaching over and down your chest to rip your shirt open easily. The fabric is thin—the buttons pop open and scatter across the room. With one quick, practiced move, he unhooks your bra without even looking at it. You gasp despite yourself and let him pull you up, bare back flush against his.

Your heart crumbles for him, and the damage you'd done that seems to follow you everywhere you go. In his mind, he already had his answer as to why you wouldn't come back, but he still didn't want to believe it. He still wanted you, even if it really were one last time before you left him again. 

Warm, soft tears roll down your cheek and onto his fingers, "James, I really am sorry, you didn't deserve this." 

His heavy length is pressed against your back as he grips your hair roughly, just enough to see your face. Bucky's gaze softens despite how tense he was, but you could still see the uncertainty in his eyes. 

"I told you, I don't want your apologies," tears threaten to spill from his eyes. He runs his fingers up your core, testing the wetness pooling there before he pulls your panties off, "I just want this."

You swallow your tears and the urge to try convincing him again. You nod—needing him just as badly, "Okay." 

The feeling of him alone makes you throb for him, aching for him like you have been for months.

Running his thick and angry red tip through your folds once, he collects the slick and watches your face contort in pleasure. He’s watching as you shut your eyes—savouring the feeling like you were deprived and storing the image in the back of his mind. He aligns himself and pushes the tip inside, making you writhe into the pillow.

But he doesn't coo at you like he normally would, he doesn't praise you the way he knows you like, and he doesn't try to make it slow and passionate. 

This was pure take and desire that consumed you both.

The stretch of him was as glorious as always, but fuck, you wanted to see him. He doesn't give a warning before thrusting in to the hilt, bottoming out and coaxing a sharp gasp from you. His lips close the distance to your neck, leaving wet, sloppy kisses that quickly become rougher as he sucked purple marks—marking you in a physical manifestation of what you'd done to him.

Leaving something behind for you to be reminded of in the morning. 

Gripping your hips tight enough that it would leave bruises, and you didn't care. His hips sank hard, movements meant to reach a peak that could prove something to him or to you somehow. Punishing in his thrusts, rocking the headboard against the wall in every movement.

The soft exterior of the man you loved so badly was gone. He was taking you apart in every way he knew how, because Bucky knew how to make you sing for him and had your body memorized like the back of his hand. 

The sounds he made were between a whimper and a groan, as though everything about this was ripping him apart. You knew him so well, studied him like a roadmap you could never forget. You knew his body like it was tattooed inside your eyelids, never escaping the softness. 

Being rough wasn't something Bucky liked to do with you, unless you asked for it. So this? This was tearing him to shreds. After months without feeling the sweet plush of your skin, Bucky so desperately wanted to take his time, but he couldn't trust himself with being able to leave you alone afterwards.

If he took any more time, he knew he wouldn't be able to let you go. 

You whined his name, wanting to touch him. Reaching back for him, grazing your fingernails over his forearms, and he takes your hands, kissing them like he was sorry. You cry out for him again, but he shoves your face into the pillow, shutting you up and muffling your helpless moans. Putting down his full weight and your hands over your head, whispering breathlessly into your ear. 

"You wanted to use me, so take it. Take all of it." 

Puncuating his words by snapping his hips even deeper into yours and reaching the spongy spot that made you see stars. You push back into him to meet his thrusts, he moans so beautifully for you—and he hated it.

He hated how you had him undone for him and could hurt him so deeply.

Holding both of your hands with his flesh arm so you couldn’t touch him, the metal one comes between you and circles over the sensitive bud, making you jolt. But he won't let you escape the way he made you feel, so he plants a knee on either side of you to cage you under him. He urges you on while keeping his punishing thrusts, snapping even harder, faster. 

Overstimulating all at once; the rigorous pace brings you there faster than you began, and you scream his name as you fall apart. He groans like it hurts as your walls flutter around him and the slickness urges him on. He doesn't relent, pushing deeper into you again and again, chasing his high as you writhe beneath him, cooing at him that it was too much to no avail. He grunts in your ear, and you swear you could've came again just at the rasp of his voice. 

“James please,” you whimper.

Suddenly, he hooks an arm under your knee and flips you onto your back. When you meet his gaze, you see the tears in his eyes just before he crashes his quivering lips into yours. His tongue swipes over your lip before he tangles the muscle with yours, sweeping every crevice of your mouth in a desperately possessive manner. He swallows your whimpered moans and ruts himself in short, deep movements, reaching into you like he could understand you like this. Like he could finally reach your mind and unravel you in this bed.

In his bed. 

The taste of salty tears touches your tongue as he devours your lips. His pace becomes uneven and sloppy as you feel yourself reaching that peak again. He pulls back just to attach his lips to your neck, sucking and biting to leave his mark purposefully. His teeth sink in, and you moan his name loudly as you came again, grabbing at him now that you could. Hissing at your nails against his back, his moans are broken and he twitches and sputters your name quietly, spilling hot inside.

Still thrusting slow and deep like he just couldn’t help himself, he keeps his spend inside, not letting a drop escape as he remains sheathed in between your slick walls. He looks back down, taking in the deep marks he left there, a hint of apology in his eyes. He seems like he wants to say something, but he stops himself, leaning down and kissing you again—softer this time.

He swipes his tongue along your lips to coax you into opening your mouth for him again. He pulls back just enough to spit into your mouth. You swallow it for him, digging your fingers into the nape of his neck and pulling him back down like you couldn't let him go.

This time, Bucky whimpers at the contact you make, biting your bottom lip enough to coax another gasp and then pulling away entirely. He gets off of you, running his hand through his hair and dragging it over his face. He stands up fast and pulls his jeans back on.

"Where are you going?" you ask, but he doesn't look at you. 

"This doesn't change anything," he adjusts his belt through the loops, the sound clinking through the quiet air, besides the sound of both of your heavy breathing. 

You sit up, the evidence of the sanguine and desolate encounter dripping onto his sheets, "James, please, if you would just let me explain." 

He turns quickly, eyes red as he says your name like it physically pains him, "I told you, I fucking despise you. Loathe isn't strong enough to describe how I feel about you." 

You stop breathing for a moment, stuck in place. 

He continues, watching the pained expression on your face grow, "You're like a fucking plague on my mind, and I can't stand you anymore."

He takes backwards steps to the door, turning away from you, "I don't ever want to see you again, so you better be long gone by the time I come back here." 

You can't help the soft scoff that escapes you, gripping the sheet tighter, "and if I don't go?" 

He looks at you for a moment, his eyes trailing over your face and studying each feature. After a beat, he looks back into your eyes. The look he gives you is colder than anything you'd ever seen before from him. 

"Then I will kill you myself." 

He slams the door shut behind him, the sound deafening—making you flinch as you close your eyes. 

You were right before; this wasn't love. Love doesn't hurt like this.

Tony Stark became a name that would send a shiver down your spine, but your fists didn't clench like before. 

You refused to acknowledge it with the same fierceness you had before, since your oversight had blinded you. Now, you could see how partial you were and how you'd let anger cloud your judgment and nearly kill a man for the crimes of people before he was born. You still had hate in your heart for him— how could you forget it? But at least now, that sharp pain shifted to an ache dulled that you only felt in your bones when it was cold and you thought of Manhattan.

Nearly half a decade after you last saw Bucky, your life is much different now. Half the Avengers are either dead or retired. Somehow, you still felt some responsibility for what you'd done back then, and how you could never explain yourself, but you were convinced that you were worthy of it anymore. Apologizing to anyone would be selfish because you knew it was for yourself. 

The apartment you lived in—if you could even call it that—was cluttered with clothes and takeout from weeks prior. You hardly left your place now, even after Tony Stark sacrificed his life for the world and died.

An honourable death, for someone you thought to be the opposite of it entirely.

You didn't know how to deal with that or how to take back the things you'd done on your vengeful path. So instead, you stayed home and watched bad television. You were on your couch, licking ice cream off your spoon, when you saw the face that could've killed you on sight.

The bewitching face of the man you dreamt of more often than you'd ever admit, the piercing blue eyes of his unmistakable face above his scruffy appearance, and neatly tucked hair. He wore a crisp suit that you'd never seen him in before, besides a borrowed one from Steve at the many Galas you'd attended. He walked across wearing his stoic expression, the hint of sadness only you'd recognize behind his brief smile, before he spoke to an audience about a bill you didn't know anything about. 

James Buchanan Barnes was now a Congressman. 

You couldn't help the laugh that rippled through you at the thought that your James, your grumpy and impatient James, was now working a job that required him to not only talk to people often but also attend meetings regularly. The livestream of the video captured him shaking hands with people as he walked down the hall with other politicians, and then stopped. There you saw a short-haired woman, hair cut at her shoulders and a polished smile as Bucky bent down for her to whisper in his ear.

You felt an unfamiliar jealousy bubble in your stomach as you put the pint of ice cream on the table, spoon clattering on the coffee table, muttering to yourself from weeks of having no social interaction. Crossing your arms over your chest just as Bucky leaves the frame, and the woman does too. You throw your remote at the screen in an annoyed groan, hurling it harder than you intended. Wincing as you hear a soft crack and realize you've broken your television. 

When you got restless, you went on runs—always alone. 

That was how Yelena found you, cornering you at an intersection and somehow knowing who you were beneath the layers you wore to conceal your identity. She ran next to you, matching your speed, and you didn't have to turn your head to know it was her. 

"Yelena, long time no see, Sestra," peering over at her as you pull your headphones off.

Yelena smiles at you, "You remembered."

You don't smile back, but give her something in between, "Of course I do."

Yelena was an old friend, a person you knew through her sister Natasha and kept in touch with just barely. After Natasha died, you spoke to Yelena only once, to check on her and for your own peace of mind. You sought her out and cried with her for your fallen friend. You never got to explain yourself to Natasha, but Yelena still trusted you. You pulled her out of a low she didn't know how to navigate while you were going through one of your own. Yelena was the only person you told about what you had done to Tony. She listened carefully when you explained your true intentions for joining the Avengers, to see if she was truly empathizing with you. If anyone knew what it was like to face-to-face with someone who was the reason for your solace, it was her.

Clint was her Tony, and Tony was your Clint.

Though at least Yelena got to talk to him about it and found comfort and closure through it, you didn't even get to say goodbye.

She didn't judge you, not even when you brushed off more personal questions, mentioning the rest of the team, and purposefully glossing over Buckys' part in your story. She knew there was more missing, but she didn't push. You gave her general answers, and you told her of your vengeance and reasoning for doing what you did. You told her she wouldn't be hearing from you, and she did not protest.

But she told you she would come looking for you one day and apparently, today, was that day. 

She says your name, guiding you towards an alleyway. You oblige because you knew that Yelena wouldn't ask for anything from you if it wasn't serious. Yelena and you didn't have to see each other often for the two of you to converse like normal all over again, and you appreciated her for it.

"Are you alright?" you ask her, shoving your phone into your pocket.

"Oh, me? Fine, great. Working with idiots, but I dealt with worse before," she points at your pocket, "give me that."

"What? My phone?" but she's already reaching in your pocket, wiggling her fingers and pulling it out, "oh pfft, sure, yeah, go ahead." 

She types in the password without you having to tell her, saying your name when you're about to protest again, "Oh, shush, I have seen you naked. And you are too sloppy, too predictable," shaking your phone in your face, "you have not changed your password in 5 years."

You pout slightly.

Okay, maybe you have been getting sloppy.

She returns to going through your phone and reading over something aloud to herself before staring up at you. Shaking her head, she continues, swiping and swiping. 

"You have not texted or called anyone in, what the fuck, 6 months?" She pulls the phone case off and takes one of her earrings out, "What happened to having a life?" 

Popping out the SIM card and dropping to the floor before smashing it beneath her boot.

You exclaim, "Yelena!"

"What? You didn't have much on it anyway. Although I guess that means breaking it was useless," she tosses your phone into the bin as well. "I need your help, and we cannot be followed." 

You look entirely annoyed and wide-eyed at her, "You basically just called me a loser and broke my phone. You are going to be followed, whether you like it or not, Lena." 

She smiles then, putting her earring back into her earlobe. "Great, follow me then." 

Grumpily, you take one last look at your poor phone, cracked and at the bottom of the grimy garbage bin, before following after her. Taking a heavy footstep after the other as you follow behind her, just before she turns the corner out of the alleyway and onto the streets again. The familiar presence of her allowed you to roll your tensed shoulders back just a bit, still holding up some of the walls you'd built up high and mighty. You stared down at her shoes as she walked and noted how polished her clothes were, her suit brand new and tailored perfectly to fit her like she was ready for a fight right now. 

She walks across the street, and you suddenly realize where she was taking you, "Why are we going to my place?" 

"You have to change. I cannot take you looking like a teenage boy to meet Valentina," her eyes trailing over your outfit and then back to your face. 

You squint at her as you enter the courtyard—her movements too aware of an apartment building you’d never taken her too. She walks with too familiar a practice and holds the door open for you with a knowing smile, but you don't question it. Not yet at least.

Yelena plops on your couch and picks up a sock from the corner, staring at it, then you. "You live like this? Like slob?" 

You roll your eyes, walking over to her and taking the sock from her hand, tossing it into the laundry basket that you said you were gonna put away two weeks ago,

"I live alone, so who gives a shit." 

She hums at you like she knows something you don't, putting her hand under her chin and watching you, "You used to care how you lived. I don't get how nearly killing Stark made you this depressed."

You say nothing, pulling your hair back from your face and padding back toward the hallway, stripping off your hoodie. You make your way to your room to change, and Yelena stood and followed after you, replacing the couch with your bed. You try changing the subject,

"So, Valentina, huh? You still work for her?" you say as you rummage through your closet, struggling to find something that wasn't a hoodie or a shirt younger than ten years.

"She is the lady who's been giving me jobs, she’s reliable that much and she knows you’re still alive.” twirling her thumbs on the edge of your bed.

You stop moving and turn to face her. "Yelena, I don't do that shit anymore,"

Yelena sits up, "You don't just give that life up, don't kid yourself."

Rubbing the bridge of your nose, "Last time we worked together, neither of us had eyebrows."

She shrugs, "Eh, they came back." When you sigh, exasperated, she continues, "Come on, just this once. Come with me. I just do my job, clock in and clock out. Anyway, you are clearly not busy, so don't tell me you are because I know when you are lying." 

You mentally noted the exhaustion on her face and the bags forming under her smudged eyeliner. Yelena always got through her shit through humour, but something told you to go through with her ask and go anyway. 

Plus, you were bored out of your mind in your apartment.

You nod, "Yeah, sure, will you just come tell me what to wear then? I'm at a loss here."

Yelena stands and stretches her arms, making her way over to you. When she looks into your closet, she snort, "Your closet looks like mine. Lack of fulfillment and desperation."

Yelena purposefully ignores the men’s jacket sitting there, several sizes too big for you. She pulls out an old mission suit from the back of your closet, hidden behind a pile of boxes.

When she turns to hand it to you and sees the look on your face, she rolls her eyes, "I said my closet looks like this too. Jeez, you really don't get out much, can't even take jokes now." 

As you approached the bunker with Yelena, she began briefing you on her target. She explained, very poorly, who the Ghost was and how Valentina had sent you both to take her down by any means necessary. 

Yelena spoke just as you approached the hall. 

"She's stealing the files that Ghost lady. I need you to find them while I take her down, or you take her down, whatever floats your boat or whatever."

With quiet footsteps, the two of you crept into the bunker. The room was filled with boxes you assumed had documents and gadgets you hardly understood. Filing in after Yelena, you followed her to a packet of documents on top of a box, frowning at the symbols etched on the paper. Multiple designs for a suit and the letter S in different fonts stared back at you as you turned your head to her in bewilderment. Just as you looked at her, you caught a glimpse of a gun pointed at her by a tall man in a suit in dirty tones of blue and red. 

"Lena!" You shouted before grabbing her by her shoulders and rolling just in time for the bullets to fly past you.

Both of you huff as you land behind a box, still over Yelena. Getting off of her, you peer over the box, and the man shoots again, making you duck.

Still, you recognize him— John Walker.

While you don't know Walker personally, you know of his history and how he didn't even make it a month as Captain America before killing someone and having his shield revoked. Mentally, you noted how his replica shield wasn't made of vibranium, the same indestructible metal of Buckys arm. 

He says your name as though he knew you, and you snap your eyes up to his. You don't miss the frown on his face as he says your name again. 

"You were in the Avengers. I thought you were dead," clipping his gun into his holster, "Everyone does." 

Yelena peeks out, "You know him?"

You shake your head and step out, also leaving yourself exposed for Walker to establish some kind of connection. Yelena stands behind you when you hear a shadow. She yelps as someone new joins the three of you, flipping her over on her ass. Ghost, you recognized her from Yelenas brief description when another person emerges from the shadows, flipping a gun in their hand. When you turn, the Ghost is gone, and Walker is in your face. 

"Why the hell are you here? All official records say you're dead." His hand was on his holster, close to drawing it out again. 

Stepping backward, you scoff softly, "As you can see, I am very much alive, Walker." 

His eyes widen slightly at your use of his name, partly impressed that you even knew him and half-wary of you. The two of you remain staring at each other as Yelena dusts herself off and starts towards you, pointing at the Ghost who was fighting another person out of your line of sight. Walker draws his gun quickly to point at Yelena. 

"An ex-Avengers death isn't on my conscience," tilting his head at Yelena, and she looks unfazed, "but I am here for you," he says just as a sudden, deafening gunshot snaps the attention of all three of you.

Instinctively, you also draw your weapon, keeping the pistol pointed at Ghost. The three of you focused on the gunshot behind you and the hard thud hitting the ground.

Then you gasp when you see it.

The Taskmaster, someone you did know before and worked with after leaving the Avengers, is dead. Blood pooled over her mask and began spilling on the floor.

In your line of work, this was a common occurrence, bound to happen. But it has been a while since you’d seen a body of someone you knew, even vaguely. Your eyes shift up to the Ghosts as her mask cyphers off. 

"Well, my job is complete," she announces, stepping over the body.

John scoffs, disregarding the body like he were used to the sight, gun still in his hand, "mine isn't. Valentina was clear about needing you gone, Yelena." 

Just then, the sound of retching and dry heaving catches everyone's attention. You'll turn in unison, guns drawn and pointed at the new found voice when you see a man in blue scrubs, hair dishevelled and looking utterly afraid.

He keeps his hands up, a dry nervous laughter leaving him before he speaks, "um, is she, are they really dead?"

John ignores his question and walks towards him, boots heavy with practiced military precision in each step, "Just who in the fuck are you, guy?" 

"Bob, I'm Bob," he gulps as John waves his gun to urge him to continue explaining himself, "I just woke up in here. One minute I was doing a medical study, the next I'm here.”

You all exchanged glances, uncertain and confused.

Bob stammers as he racks his brain, trying to convince the menacing group in front of him of his innocence, “Please, you gotta believe me." 

You look over to the capsule behind him, the mould of a body in a high-tech casing that makes your thoughts race. If he were telling the truth, then he was a definitive experiment for Valentina just as you suspected John Walker to be. His enhanced strength only something you’d seen from your former Avengers—Steve Rogers and Bucky.

You thought back to when Bucky told you about the super soldier serum and how people continued to test in cruel ways to see just how far they could push the human body and create the perfect human.

The perfect experiment and weapon.

Your brows knit together, and you met Yelenas gaze. She's frowning like the gears of her mind have clicked into place and made the same realization as you. Of course, Valentina was playing you, she was always playing both of you. 

Valentina was killing people she had working for her previously—this was cleanup and you were doing the fucking dirty work for her.

"Okay," Yelena says finally, her gun going into her waistband and her other hand reaching to yours, lowering the weapon, "it's clear we have all been played here and all worked for Valentina in some capacity."

John grumbles, lowering his gun too, "What are you saying?" 

The Ghost rolls her eyes, "Are you a dense, dime-store Captain America? Valentina clearly sent us here to die," gesturing around the room. 

John stares at her, evaluating and intense, "I didn't know that Ghosts could speak." 

She smiles, a small hum of a laugh that was entirely humourless, "It's Ava, actually."

John scoffs again just as alarms blare and the bunker goes into lockdown. Bob scurries closer, and no one stops him. 

Yelena breathes out heavily, "We don't have time for this, you guys," staring at the elevator shaft, then at Ava, "We have to get out of here." 

Then they're all moving.

Without really telling anyone what to do, they were working in unison, as though this was what they were meant to be doing. John breaks open the power source, Ava unlocks the door, and Bob has the bright idea to get out of the Bunker by climbing. After listening to them bickering and scraping your knees against the elevator shaft a couple of times, you eventually do get out. 

In the car, Yelena shot an apologetic look at you from the front seat.

You gave her a tight, slightly annoyed smile back. You were sitting next to John Walker and the Ghost lady you now identified as Ava, and the loud man driving the car kept nudging Yelena and asking her questions, whispering about her having found her calling. You smirk to yourself a little when you see Yelenas' look of annoyance, not missing the silent acceptance there that she had found something worth fighting for. Ava adjusts something on her suit, while you stare out the window over John's head to watch the landscape. But he catches your eye, staring at you.

You frown, "What?" 

"You're Bucky Barnes's ex," he announces, and the pair in the front stop talking. 

"What does he say? Winter Soldier has a girlfriend?" Alexei catches your eye in the rear-view mirror, "You are Winter Soldier's girlfriend?"

You stammer, "No, I'm not."

"She is right technically, she's not his girlfriend." John says again, never shifting his gaze from you, "She's the one who backstabbed the Avengers." 

You wince, and Alexei gasps. Yelena doesn't even move because she already knew about this, even without you telling her about the part about Bucky. Ava doesn't budge either, unfazed by the declaration of your disloyalty as though she had anticipated it or had known somehow. 

Alexei suddenly laughs, "You are badass, like Lena, like Tasha!" he looks to Yelena, then you in the mirror again, "No mercy like the Soviet Union!" 

Yelena cuts him off, "Okay, Dad, please just stop. Let's just get out of here and go home." 

"Go home?" Alexei says, looking personally offended by her declaration, "No, no, no, this is a beautiful group, a new friendship and family to have and cherish. You cannot go home and forget all about this, Lena." 

"There is no point, they took Bob already," she says, looking out the side mirrors. 

"This is a glorious team! Just like when Natasha was Avenger!" Alexei gleams. Yelena shakes her head and groans at him. 

John snorts from next to you, "Yeah, go Thunderbolts." 

Alexei gasps dramatically, "You tell them of your little league team? Oh my, you already bonded." he snaps his head to look at you all, making the car jerk, "You know, one time someone pooped in the middle of the game, right there, on the field. It was so funny, they were so bad." Yelena grabs the steering wheel, steadying them. 

Ava suddenly announces that; "someone is following us."

Without waiting for anyone to say anything, she puts her mask back on and geo-leaps to the trunk of the car, facing the vehicle chasing you. 

Everyone quiets to look.

Yelena glances out her window, spotting three bulletproof vehicles roaring behind Alexlei's shitty taxi car. Despite his claim that it was bulletproof earlier, the shells whizzing past you now and shattering the windows proved otherwise.

A deafening screeching sound is played over the speakers of the truck behind you, and Ava nearly falls out of the car when you and John yank her back in through the broken window. She's disoriented over your lap as the shooting ensues.

In a swift move, Yelena peels out of the car, shooting out one of the tires and sending the vehicle crashing. Amongst the fiery crash, the other two roar closer to Alexei's terribly slow car.

Yelena sits back inside, fiddling with her gun, "That was my only bullet." 

John reaches for his gun, the magazine missing, "shit, I'm out too."

He glances back through the broken window, a roaring motorcycle appearing from the smoke of the crash, chasing behind the last of the three.

The name he utters makes the colour drain from your face, "Bucky?" 

You turn with him, and there he was. You feel your body run cold again, blood freezing in your veins. Bucky suddenly stops his motorcycle, grabbing the hitch of the other vehicle and pulling it to a taut. Anyone else would’ve been ripped in half but the sheer strength of him, Bucky yanked the enormous tank backward, punch the chain hard into the concrete below him. The car is then flying away from you and rolling into another fiery crash before you knew it.

John and Alexei laugh in relief as Bucky launches something beneath the other car, causing it to explode. Alexei hits the steering wheel, hollering something about ‘the Winter Soldier never retiring.’

The cheering dies down as Bucky turns his focus on Alexeis' car, pointing his weapon at it. 

But it felt like he was pointing right at you.

Suddenly, something is launched beneath Alexei's car and John curses. The explosion booms white as the car is airborne. Then you're sliding from the backseat, gasping as the car begins to flip. Ava and John hold onto the grab handles of the car, but you don't grab anything in time. 

You groan awake, wanting to rub your head.

Cuffs digging into your wrists as your eyelids flutter open.

Chatter makes your ears perk up, recalling what had happened, turning your disoriented head around and taking in the faces around you. You glance to your left, looking at John as he notices you lucid again, shooting you a reassuring smile— something you weren't sure about just yet. He mouths, asking if you were alright, and you nod, giving him a tight smile before turning your attention to a loud Yelena and Ava. 

"Yes, Bob!" Yelena exclaims as Ava continues for her, "We have been trying to tell you that!" 

But you feel eyes on you, piercing and intense. The hairs on your neck stick up. Looking into his eyes, you felt like all of your old emotions were back in full force, like they had never even left. His hands were on his hips, listening but not really hearing them as he watched you. Looking past all the other obstacles and through you like he knew what you were thinking. Probably because he knew you better than anyone else—and it felt like you were alone in the room when you looked up into his eyes. 

Shamefully, you looked back down, not wanting to meet his gaze. It was too hard, and you didn't know if you could take it. The last time you'd seen him, he said he never wanted to see you again. Said that if he saw you ever again, he would kill you. You betrayed him, broke his heart and made him feel like he was when controlled by Hydra; used and weaponized.

After a beat, he speaks, interrupting the rest of the group's bickering, “we have to move then.”

To your surprise, he walks over and uncuffs Yelena, breaking off the cuffs swiftly then Ava’s. "Valentina won't expect us to go together, let alone work together." 

Ava narrows her eyes, "You're letting us go?"

He moves to uncuff Alexei and Walker. 

"No, not exactly. But I'm trusting you guys won't betray me," he says, and you bite back a wince at his words.

Still, you avoid looking at him, staring down at your shoes as though it could get you out of this situation. John leads them outside as they’re too focused on their own quiet discussion to notice the tension between you and Bucky. 

Finally, Bucky stops behind you as everyone else regroups. He bends close to your ear, hands undoing your wrists, taking more time than you knew he needed.

He says your name, "So, will you?" 

"W—what?" you rasp, rubbing your unbound wrists together and trying not to look into his piercing blue eyes.

Watching you intently, he tilts his head ever so slightly, as though he were studying you. Looking over just enough to catch your eyes.

"Betray me again. Can I trust that you won't do that?"

You couldn't stop staring at the facial hair on his face and how his scruff had grown fuller. You wanted to badly to lean into him again, feel the touch of the one you'd been aching for and finally force him to listen to you, even if you knew it was self-serving to do it now that he'd clearly gotten over you.

You nod your head at him, biting the inside of your cheek. The sound of Yelena calling you guys to hurry up and come out from outside doesn't make him flinch, and he leans in a little closer.

The familiar scent of him—cedarwood and rich suede—engulfs your senses. 

An unexpected tug at the corners of his lips makes your skin bloom bright as he eyes the features of your face, stopping over the curve of your lips. He steps away enough to give you space to move. Reluctantly, you stand and walk over to the door, needing a breath of fresh air from his sudden proximity—when you catch something he says something just before you walk outside. A foot out the door and you still hear him with the smirk in his voice evident.

"You're so beautiful, even when you lie to me."

A familiar sense of bitterness filled your mouth when you entered the Watchtower. 

You probably should've been more specific about when asking Yelena about where she was leading you up to, because she failed to mention that the Watchtower was just the Avengers tower—renamed.

As you got out of the elevator, you couldn't help but notice the same features in the building you once resided in. Your eyes trailed over to the kitchen, where you'd cook with Natasha and Steve. Where you'd walk in at an ungodly hour for a snack, and Bucky would find you. The place Bucky cooked the meal for your first not-date, setting out wine, pasta and salad— before Sam and Steve had crashed it and ate more than either of you. It was once domestic and safe, but you could never fully let yourself simmer in it. Nagging in the back of your head like a virus that had no cure, you would never relax entirely. 

Distant discussion grabs your attention as you emerge from the elevator. 

"We are taking you in Val," John crosses his arms, staring over at Valentina, who had shifted her attention to you as you walked in with Yelena.

"Hmm, I don't think so, Junior varsity, Captain America." She smiled wickedly as John angrily pulled his gun out of his holster. 

A familiar velvety smooth voice called out to John to stop—Buckys.

"Walker," Bucky warned, and John let his gun fall back into his side. 

Valentina giggled, swirling her drink in her hand and looked to Ava, "Ah, Ava, it's nice to see you again," she shifted her focus over to Yelena, "Yelena, you look awful."

Before turning back to you and saying your name slowly, "I knew you wouldn't stay dead."

You give her a tight, unamused smile, "Still a cunt then, Valentina?" 

She smiles right back, turning to Bucky, "One betrayal wasn't enough, Congressmen? You want her to actually kill someone from your adorable little team this time?" and his jaw tightens uncomfortably. She continues, looking back to Yelena, "And you, are you sure you're still ready for that public-facing role?"

Yelena steps forward, "Hmm, eat shit, Valentina. Where is Bob?"

"You mean Sentry?" She tilts her head, and you turn to Yelena again, the documents you saw at the bunker filling in the blanks, "come on out." 

You all turn to see Bob walking down the stairs, clad in bright yellow and gold attire, looking entirely imperfect. His hair is now blonde and slicked back neatly. Yelena breathes out his name, but he avoids her gaze. His smile was uncertain and nervous as he stood next to Valentina. 

"Sentry is my protection plan, and my reason to sway the committee. I will be unimpeachable," she smugly glances around for your reactions. 

Bucky scoffs, "That is never going to happen."

"Enough talk, nobody messes with the West Chesapeake Valley," Alexei charges forward, towards Bob, "Thunderbolts!" 

Without breaking a sweat, Bob punches Alexei once, sending him flying backward into the wall.

Everyone is suddenly on edge as Bob becomes a bigger threat than anyone had expected. Your fists clench as you feel the tension rise above anything you could ever contain, snapping as the unsheathing of weapons filled the air around you.

Bucky points his gun, Ava geo-leaps and reappears behind him before he sends her staggering back again. John launches his shield, and Bob easily sends it back to him like a Frisbee. Yelena begs them to stop, both of you running towards him when Bob sends a current of energy, sending all four of you flying backwards again.

You groan as you hit the hard wall next to Alexei, distant thoughts of CTE rummaged as you daze at the concrete. Alexei is up before you and warily he helps you stand again. 

Bucky looks back towards you, sending you an evaluative look that borders on concern, before turning his attention to Bob and firing straight at him. You gasp when Bob stops the bullets midair and pushes them full force back towards Bucky, moving too fast for him to dodge them. Pushing yourself forward, his name name slips from between your lips. Everything swirls, it happens so fast, but John is there faster, blocking the bullets with his shield and staggering backwards. Ava and Alexei get there in time again for Bob to disarm them both effortlessly and throw them to the corner of the room. 

Yelena pleads again, jumping onto Bob's back, electricity flowing from her gloves to his neck, "Bob, you don't have to do this, you have a choice."

You feel your face heat; the situation Bob was in was all too familiar to your own, and Buckys ' gaze prickled at your back. You knew it was useless, but you grabbed Buckys disgraced gun off the floor and pointed it up at Bob since Yelena clearly didn't believe that he would disarm her like the rest of them. Suddenly, the metal of the gun is burning your skin and slipping through your fingers. You yelp at the seering sensation, dropping it to the ground, watching as the gun melts into a mush.

John reapproaches him as Bob throws Yelena over to the elevator and grabs John's shield, bending it in half. John eyes widen in shock as Bob grabs you both by your necks. You’re thrashing, clawing with the remains of metal flicking off your gloves as you try to get him off before he’s flinging you over to where the rest of the team was lying. 

Then Bucky flips his knife in his hand, launching it before John pulls him forward with just his mind. The knife uselessly clattering next to Bob. He holds him in the air for a moment before letting him crash to the ground again. But Bucky was headstrong, and you knew he wouldn't give up so easily.

He strips off his jacket, horrifically seductive in a time like this, and strides back for Bob, punching at him hard with his vibranium arm. But Bob was too strong, beyond anything any of you had ever seen and he catches Buckys hand, gripping tight. Bucky groans, trying to free himself when Bob yanks his arm out from his body, and you gasp sharply. Swaying a little, Bob hits Bucky hard over the head with his arm and knocks him out as he's sent back over to the five of you. 

You crawl over to his unconscious form and cradle his head in your lap, frantic.

"James, hey, wake up," lightly grazing his cheek as you shook him slightly.

The rest of the team is up quickly, Ava grabbing Bucky's arm off the ground and Alexei and John moving towards Bucky. You let them hold him up and drag him out of the room, into the elevator. Bob lets you all leave, the look of regret evident on his face, which made your heart pang for him, because you knew that look.

You’d basked in that feeling for too long, the emptiness and the loneliness that devoured you whole; you could see it all on his face even as the elevator doors closed. 

Staring at the Buckys' arm in Ava's hand, you couldn't help but think about when you had done the same to him. You gulp as you step away from him, hand clutched over your mouth with effort, just as the doors opened and Bucky began to stir awake.

Stomach twisting in knots as his detached arm brings you back. You look to Yelena, stepping out of the elevator before anyone else,

"I shouldn't be here when he's awake again." 

She briefly met your eyes, her own teetering on the edge of disdain for herself and for Valentina for turning Bob into this. But she knew what you meant and gave you a tight nod. 

You brush past the rest of them, walking fast and panting harder, memories flooding back in full force. Unable to stop yourself from dry heaving into your palm, anxiety peaked and caused you to breathe harder. Once you were far enough, you turned into an alleyway and threw up, clutching the brick wall for something, anything to ground you. Hacking up the shame and the guilt, despite not knowing when you had last eaten.

Bucky slips out of John's grip and mutters a quiet thanks as his eyes immediately begin scanning around— for you. 

He walks over to Ava, taking his arm from her and clicking it back into place, swinging his arm and recalibrating it. He says your name, "Where did she go?"

Ava shrugged, "Not sure, but she seemed kind of out of it before she walked off." Bucky frowns, and she continues, "She said something to Yelena before leaving, maybe ask her?" 

"Right, thanks," but Ava stops him from leaving too quickly.

"You two used to date, right?" she asks softly, like she wanted to coax the answer from him. But Bucky didn't need any coaxing. 

He nods and smiles fondly, "Yeah, we used to be together. Why do you ask?" 

She smiles at his admission, as though she knew something he didn't, "Oh, no reason." Bucky narrows his eyes but drops it, giving her another thanks before starting after Yelena and Alexei. 

He jogs into the street, finding civilians running around aimlessly. He ushers some of them quickly, yelling to get inside. He moves further into the crowds to find you and Yelena, helping a family up and inside another building. Multiple crashes shift his focus again. A helicopter strikes a nearby apartment building and sends debris flying towards a young girl. Alexei runs fast, getting to her and shielding her with his body. Alexei crouched over, standing once the debris broke over his broad shoulders. Alexei helps the girl up just as a dark shadow looms over the streets of New York and people begin disappearing. The little girl next to Alexei also disappears. The thought of you also getting engulfed in the darkness suddenly sends him into a panic, and he runs toward you and Yelena, yelling your names. 

"We need to get inside, come on," he rasps, urging you both. You nod at him, pulling Yelenas arm along, but she stays standing there, staring up at Bob. 

Your eyes shift to Alexei, dangerously close to being in the darkness as well, "Okay, look, you get him, Bucky, I will bring her," letting out a shaky breath, he doesn't move yet, so you try again, "I will be right behind you." 

He hesitates and then reluctantly nods because you were right and you were more than capable, he knew that. He starts towards Alexei and from the corner of his eye, Ava hauls John up onto his feet, and sprints towards the nearest building where the darkness hadn't reached quite yet.

In seconds, Bucky is pulling Alexei up, who was still trying to wrap his head around the little girl flickering out as well. They reach the arch of the building, panting and overexerted. Ava and John are already there, hands holding the wall as they try to catch their breath.

Bucky glances around, turning over, scanning and searching for you.

But you still weren't there yet. 

Alexei pipes up from next to him, glancing over to John, then to Bucky, "Where is Yelena?"

Ava points toward the dark shadows looming beneath the Void—Bob.

There was Yelena, walking closer and closer to it, and you, inches behind her. It looks like you’re saying something to her, but she doesn’t run. You keep following. Moments later, Yelena disappears, shifting from physical form into a shadow. Milliseconds later, you follow her, drowned out and turned into a shadow of yourself.

Alexei screams, moving out of the arch to get to her, but John holds him back tightly, not letting him go.

And Bucky nearly folds in on himself, breathlessly leaning forwards like the sight of you disappearing had punched him in the gut. He had just gotten you back, even if it was glimpses. He was breathing the same air as you just like before, and he refused to lose it again. You didn’t have enough time yet—he had to right his wrongs this time.

Bucky's body moves before his mind does, starting after you when John calls his name, "Bucky, you can't!" 

His chest heaves, "Why the hell not?" 

"It makes you relive things,” giving Bucky a solemn, knowing look, “it’s like a shame room that loops your worst mistakes. It's gonna make you— wait!, Bucky, hold on!” 

Bucky knew you must've been eating yourself alive for what happened back then. He knew you already had demons before he even met you, that kept you from being entirely honest with him, and that was enough for him. He doesn’t wait for another reason, running into the shadows of his past life and aching for his future to emerge—you.

Bucky crashes through mirrors and drowns in baths of blood in his shame rooms. He relives the worst things he'd ever done and has to feel the weight of the lives he'd taken as the Winter Soldier. Memories of the training he had done in the Red Room, where he had trained countless Widows and ultimately led them to their demise. 

He gets out of it, out of all of it, because he had made his peace and found the closure he needed years ago, because of you. 

While it hurt and he hated himself for those things he had done, he shook the you had already helped him through all of this and brought him to the conclusion that it was not his fault. This was forced onto him, and he was weaponized for this. 

That's what gets him through his shame rooms. 

In a blink, Bucky finds himself in the old Avengers tower in an all too familiar room — your old bedroom. Under the morning light, shining and glittering against your soft, bare skin, there you were, smiling at a past version of him. The two of you were lying under the sheets, naked and tangled together. He was asleep there, which was rare for him until he had met you. He watched as your eyes scanned over his sleeping form, running your fingers softly through his dishevelled hair and grazing his scalp, pulling a soft hum from him. he didn't understand why this was part of your shame room. He didn't understand why this moment could have been so shameful for you if this was all it was, since it felt domestic. 

That was until you kissed his cheek lightly, like waking him was a sin. Your expression shifted to a pained one as you scanned over his sleeping face, burning it into your memory. You spoke softly, careful not to startle him awake,

"I love you, James," tears prickling your pretty eyes as you lay your head on his chest, "I am so sorry that I love you because this is gonna hurt so much more. And it's my fault." Wet droplets touch his sleeping form as he stirs and grips you tighter amid his dreams. 

He furrows his brows at the scene before him. The thought that you loved him enough to be ashamed of it, confusing him all over again. His stomach backflips when he recounts your words. It dawns on him that you really did care for him and didn't mean to fall in love with him. At least it was real to both of you. He steps closer to the bed to watch you there, resting on his chest, eyes closed and eyelashes wet, when the memory reloops itself. 

You weren't in this memory, so that meant you got out of it.

This wasn't your worst. 

He leaves the bedroom and that memory behind, starting down the hallway of the tower. The sound of distant yelling pulls him in that direction, and he jogs faster, reaching the lab and pushing the door open. There you were, the past version of you that he had been pained over for so long that it started to numb itself. You were beneath the past version of him, wide-eyed as Steve held Tony's gunshot wound to keep him from bleeding out. 

You writhe from under his weight, bucking your hips up to get him off of you. He watched you closer, not missing the desperation in your attempts and the pain in your eyes this time. He watches as a single tear slips down your face, as though in preparation for what you had to do, while the past Bucky adjusted himself over you, gripping one of your hands tight to stop your pounding at his chest.

"Please, baby, I don't wanna hurt you," he pleads. 

He watches as regret begins to flood your face and you reach up his arm, grazing up it like practiced movements. because you had done it dozens of times before, showing him that you loved him despite all of the odds and all of the things he had been forced to do. Showing him that you loved him, despite his past. He knows what's going to come next, and he hears your voice crack like it wounded you to say it this time around.

"But I need to hurt you, James," you admit before a mechanical click shifts from beneath your fingertips and his arm dismounts his body, clattering to the floor. 

The past version of him backs off from you and stares at the metal, hitting the ground, not taking in the look on your face. The past version of him didn't see the immediate regret plastered on your expression and the way you shut your eyes before moving and getting up. 

Then the memory loops. 

The pieces he had missed years ago were falling into place, and he was understanding you better now. With a heavier heart, Bucky looks around the room, looking for the next memory you might be stuck in. He stops at a reflective surface beneath a computer when he sees a glimpse of you—the real you.

The room was dark and only illuminated by the dark street lights. But there you were, sitting on the twin-sized bed, hunched over and looking towards another person. A younger girl with the same colour of hair and skin sat by the window, still, looking outside. The girl was maybe ten or eleven years old, and her back was facing him. Bucky couldn't shake the feeling that he knew her. He calls your name, and nothing happens. He tries again, and the lab darkens, mimicking the memory you were stuck in. He turns around to find you closer and himself in the room with you. He hesitates to reach out and touch you when a distant gunshot rips through the air, and he sees you flinch, retracting his hands. Deciding to watch and try to understand what you could never tell him, he sits next to you quietly, your eyes still trained on the younger version of you.

He watches the scene before him just as the memory reloops itself. 

A ten-year-old version of you sat by your window, reading from a book: The Giver. The spine was cracked, and you had a finger in your mouth, biting your nail like the story was keeping you on the edge of your seat. Before his brows could furrow, the doorbell rang, and you perked up. You called out your parents' names—no response. Placing your book carefully upside down to keep your page open, you stood up and walked out of your room and past your father's study. He was on the phone, looking angry and completely busy, your mother asleep in her bedroom after a long day at work. You thought you were being helpful. 

The young you rubbed at her eyes and walked to the front door, undoing the latch and unlocking it. When you opened the door, a tall man wearing a suit and tie peered down at the young you, grinning wickedly. 

"Are your parents home, sweetheart?" the man asked, taking his hands out of his pockets. 

"Yeah, who are you?" you asked. 

He said your father's full name and his workplace, easing the tension on your face. You thought you could trust him.

"I have a meeting with him, hmm? Would you let me inside to see him?" his eyes were dark with malicious intentions that a child would never understand.

You nodded and let him inside, pointing him toward his study. You were so young, so naive. You thought you were doing them a favour by allowing him inside the house. You thought that this was your father's friend, or his business partner or something. A horrible gut feeling pulled at Bucky as he was forced to watch what he already felt was coming. 

"Dad?" you called out, pushing your father's study open, the man inches behind you. 

Your father looked up at you, his expression quickly falling at the man standing there, holding a gun just low enough that you couldn't even see, but your father could.

"Be a dear, go get your mother too," the man said. 

You turned to ask him why when you saw it, the weapon in his hands. The white gun aimed towards you, bearing the symbol of the enormous building situated in New York.

The unmistakable name etched on the barrel of the gun—Stark Industries. 

You stared at it a moment too long, focused on the name and sealing it in your core memories. Encoding the name and wondering where you recognized it from, when the man nudged you.

"Get your mother. Now." 

Panic set in, and you turned to your father, a similar look painted over his. He nodded for you to listen and gave you a smile that was meant to soothe you. Even the young version of you understood, something was wrong.

You left the room, walking as quickly as your little legs could take you to the master bedroom and pushing the door open. 

She sat up, calling your name and asking if everything was alright. You told her everything, stuttering at parts because it was happening so fast. She calmed you down, sat you in her lap. She asked you to describe the man, and when you did, you saw the colour drain from her face. Now you knew you really had messed up, and you started to cry. She sat you on the bed alone, moving to her closet to the safe you were never allowed to touch and unlocked it. 

When she came back to you, she pressed a heavy gun to your hand and whispered your name, hurried in her actions. 

"I want you to lock the door after we leave. When you do that, go to your room and stay there. Do not open the door for anyone," you were crying as you listened to her. You protested, trying to put the gun down, but she held it in your hands, "If someone comes upstairs, you use this." 

You were shaking with fear and guilt for letting the man into the house, crying for your mother not to leave when she stood up. She kissed and hugged you tightly, and you knew what it meant. She left the room and walked towards your father's study. After a minute, you heard arguing about money, about a debt. The man laughed while you heard your mother cry. Suddenly, the study door opened, and hurried footsteps went through the front door. You ran after them, doing as your mother said and closing the door, locking both bolts. 

You sprinted back up to your room, sitting by the window still and knocking the book you had been reading earlier to the ground, letting it shut. Distant pleading bled through the glass of your bedroom window as the man dragged them out back, exactly where your room was facing. He lined them up, facing towards the house, on their knees. The man held the gun to the back of your father's head first, before turning it on your mother's. The gunshot rang through the air and through Bucky's ears, and instinctively, his eyes shut. The man in the suit left them there, bloodied and horrific, just below where you were, and purposefully met your eyes. The bastard knew you were watching, giving you the same wicked smile as before as he waved his gun at you and walked away. 

The young you watched the whole scene, hand pressed over your mouth to muffle your cries, as the real you remained slumped next to him, letting the scene replay all over again. Bucky didn't even realize his face was wet with tears until he looked back at you, watching your expression. He says your name softly, touching your shoulder. 

A shudder leaves you at the contact, finally looking up into his eyes, 

"I killed them, Bucky. Not Tony, not his fucking father. It was me."

He shook his head, turning you to look at him, "No, you didn't kill them. That man did. He pulled the damn trigger." When you shook your head and tears rolled faster, he cupped your cheek, concern etched over his face, "You can't blame yourself for this, sweetheart."

The distant chatter of the younger you leading the man up the stairs, letting him go to your dad's study, it was all too much. You had been in this room for so long, you couldn't recall when you weren't anymore. You gasped for air through your tears, trying to inflate your lungs fully but you couldn't do it. 

The air felt thicker—it felt wrong. 

It felt like the air that was filling your lungs was solidifying as it sat there, weighing you down. Bucky saw it; he always caught it. He says your name again, but it dilutes itself between your ears, echoing off the thumping of your heart. The sound is an echo in the cave between your chest cavity. 

You rasped through your tears, "Their blood is on me, James. I let him inside," pulse pounding through your ears. You're ripping at your chest as breaths come too short and words too fast, "It was me all along and I blamed Tony, and now he's dead and I can't take it back—"

Bucky recognizes the signs of a panic attack, having had many himself. 

His face shifts and his eyes grow warmer, "Hey, don't do that," pulling your hand off your chest and taking it in his, "You gotta breathe for me." 

He takes deep breaths, encouraging you to copy him. You do, but are continually unable to calm yourself down. He kneels on the ground, his hands still holding yours as he situates himself between your knees. For a few minutes, he just stays there, breathing with you. The warmth of his hands grounded you amidst the cold storm that threatened to pull you under again. Wiping the tears as they flowed down your face. You couldn't help but lean into his familiar touch, seeking his reassurance.

He spoke softly, squeezing your hand gently, "You were a child then, sweetheart. You couldn't have known." You couldn't tell where reality began and the past ended, but his voice, his grip, grounded you. You began breathing more evenly. He waited for you to calm down enough to squeeze his hands back before pulling them to his lips and kissing them softly, "It's not your fault, you hear me? You did what you thought you had to."

Your breath still stuttered, but your stomach twists, "Why are you in here, Buck?" 

Bucky doesn't look at you for a moment, and he doesn't answer right away. Then he looks up with his gaze of something too raw to name, "you. I came for you." 

You feel your throat tighten at his confession; you want to say something, but you're at a loss. The gunshot echoes through the air again, and you squeezed your eyes shut before the memory started to loop once again. 

He stands, pulling you up with him and steadying you next to him with a hand around your waist, "We gotta go, okay?" 

You nod. He lets you stay silent, giving you time to gather it all and find your peace in the quiet. Without disturbing your sobered tranquillity, he leads the way out. 

Back at the Watchtower, you were bundled up in an old blanket you found in the closet. Thickly knit and cozy, it faintly smelled of antiseptics. You knew it must have been one of Bruce's he'd kept in the lab for when he would work too late in the evening and sleep there. Vaguely, you wondered if Bruce came by this tower anymore or if he and Clint even spoke. 

The television was on and snapped your attention just as it showed a rerun of an important announcement. Valentina had announced the New Avengers, featuring you, Yelena, Alexei, Ava, John, and Bucky. The crowd oohs and ahs as the group of you steps forward. You watch as Yelena leans forward to whisper in Valentina's ear, and her face pales. 

Bucky walks in, holding a stack of paper in his hands and reading it like he had a personal vendetta. He was focused muttering to himself about his distaste for the people he works with. You sit up straighter, pulling the blanket off you slightly,

"Hey."

His eyes meet yours and he gives a slow, warm smile, "Hey."

You catch his eyes scanning over you, fondly like he remembered something.

Bucky crosses the room, setting his paperwork down on the table. He glances over at the television, "You were there, remember? What are you watching this for?" 

Glad that he didn't start with unpacking the heaviness in the room, you shrug, "I just turned it on, and I don't mind watching Valentina realize she's fucked herself over with us."

Bucky snorts, scooching himself closer to you. You're not sure how well you hid your surprise when he lifted the blanket and situated himself underneath with you, the domestication of the action making your heart skip. The warmth of his skin radiated off the shell of his thin shirt, even though he isn't touching you, just hovering close enough. You sigh softly, shifting your back against the couch to create some distance. 

"Thank you," and his eyes snap to yours, expression turning more serious. 

"Don't thank me," shifting in his seat and tugging the blanket, "I did what I had to." 

You frown a little, brows knitting as you turn your head back at the television. He was being serious, or he was just flat out lying to you now, right? 

You murmur your words, "You didn't have to come in after me. Especially not after everything I put you through." 

From the corner of your eye, you see his lips curl into a smile. 

"I think if you did try to kill me, I might thank you at this point," he turns to face you fully, tulting his head so he could see your whole face, "I mean, as long as you don't leave again. Or try to kill someone on the team. Actually, forget that last part, I can excuse it.”

You shake your head in disbelief, "You don't mean that." 

Squinting at you, he takes your hands off your lap and leans over, closing the distance between you, dropping his head in your lap. You freeze with your hands lingering just over his head as he situates himself, ocean eyes staring up at you like you'd hung the stars. The feelings, the memories, the love, all of it came flooding back like a dam that had been straining against itself, the current overwhelming. 

"You need to stop telling me what I do and don't mean." his hand comes up to tuck your hair behind your ear, "This would've all been solved a lot quicker if you would quit doing that, sweetheart." 

His fingers linger a moment longer than necessary over your ear, moving over to cup your cheek. Alleviated from his touch alone—you don't know how to trust it or yourself not to ruin things again. His eyes shone as they looked into yours and through you, as though he alone could grasp your thoughts. 

"If you told me you wanted Stark dead, I would've listened to you." Bucky quietly admits, his head still in your lap. 

"W—what?" You look down at him, not sure you heard him right. 

"I would've followed you anywhere, I would've loved you even after you did all of that." he slowly sits up, "You and Steve were the only ones who saw me beyond the things I’ve done. I know it’s wrong and I know it wasn’t his fault but for you…” he trails off before finding other words, “you just had to say the word.”

The sincerity in his tone felt like it had seized time, and you swore you could hear a pin drop.

How do you even respond to that?

Here you were thinking he hated you for all of this, and he's telling you he just wanted the truth from you. Mindlessly, your hands ran through his hair, calming your nerves and earning a soft hum from him.

With Bucky, you had been the one who first uncovered the mush of a man he always was behind that hardened armor—but he did the same to you.

Your guard was always down at his touch. He says your name like honey on his tongue, the sound familiar to your starved ears.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks, but you can't tear your gaze from wanting to smooth the lines around his eyes when he’s deep in thought or touching the stubble he’d grown in your absence. 

"I'm thinking of how to apologize," your voice soft, hands even softer as you massaged his scalp for what felt the first time in an eternity, "and I don't know where to begin with it, and you're being too nice about it, like I didn't treat you badly." 

He laughs, hands dropping in surrender, "Being nice is a problem now?" 

"It is when you've fucked up and hurt the people you care about as many times as I have, James," and he laughs again but you can’t help but crack a smile back, "what the hell is so funny?" 

"I just realized you only call me James when you get worked up about something," you sigh, and he continues, "and you know I am not exactly the most innocent person in the world. I have definitely fucked up plenty more than you, and I will continue to fuck up cause that's just life." 

"You make it sound so simple," 

"And you make it harder than it needs to be. Redemption isn't erasing the blood that's been spilt to stop the bleeding; that's just counterintuitive. You're the one who helped me come to terms with that.” He touches your hand, “Let me help you do the same, hmm?"

You ponder it, not sure what to say. With a heavy sigh, you let it soak in the self-doubt and confusion that deluded you. When the weight feels like it has condensed, he sits up next to you. 

"When did you get so wise, Mr. Barnes?" 

"Oof," clutching his chest dramatically, "I was born in the 40's, pretty girl. I know a thing or two about life and having regrets.”

You laugh a little and he smiles at the victory, "But really, I am sorry for, you know, taking your arm and not telling you what I was really feeling."

He coos, "Yeah, that was a low blow, babe, hitting a man while he's already broken-hearted by taking his metal arm? You're a menace.”

His expression shifts into something more serious as he is more intentional with his words. Running a hand through his hair he sighs,

“Truthfully, you have haunted me for years. And that version of myself. What I said to you…” he trails off.

You let the air fill with uncertainty and unease as he tries to find the words; you didn’t have anything to say and ease the quiet with. When he sighs deeply, your eyes briefly meet his and his brows lift as the words finally find him.

“—When I told you to leave that day, I didn’t mean it. I wanted you to stay, and I have nightmares of the last time we spoke often. Every waking moment we have been apart has felt like I couldn't breathe freely."

"James," you breathe like the rug might get pulled from under you. You don’t miss the quiver of his lips as his gaze falters.

"—I thought you might've been the bane of my existence, but after I saw you again, that weight was lifted and I could breathe. I can't sleep without you near me. No, I haven't slept without you. I went to morgues, I called hospitals, I became a fucking Congressman to get access to more government documents, just in case you were mentioned in something, anything—"

The gasp that left you was soft and surprised. You couldn't help how your hands trailed up his arms while he continued pouring his heart out as though he just couldn't stop. 

"—I knew I’d fucked up as soon as I closed that door behind me. I should've let you explain, and I shouldn't have told you to go," but you're moving over him, starting to straddle him as he spirals in his own doubt, "I wanted you to stay so badly but you seemed so hellbent on leaving, I thought saying that might've made you stay, or helped me cope with it—" 

"James, I love you too," snapping his attention to you, holding his face in your palms.

He lets out a shaky breath, hands resting on your thighs in uncertainty and barely concealed restraint, “you do?”

You nod as his hands wrap around your torso, finally. Holding you tightly like he needed you to ground him in this moment to believe it. The feeling familiar but something still felt far away. You sigh deeply, trying to revel in the feelings of him, trying to hide the exasperation in your tone.

"You don't have to say it back, but you said it in the lab, and I should've said it back then." 

He shakes his head quickly, "but I do. Fuck, I do. I love you, I—I, God, I have always loved you, and it has been consuming me." 

You pull back just to look at him, and he immediately closes the distance, crushing his lips into yours. It was hurried, exhausted and hungry all at once. it was the kind of kiss you’d wanted from him for so long, the press of his soft lips threatened inhibitions. The taste of him could get you addicted all over, like a drug you’d long forgotten. You craved him and he was already here. You couldn’t have enough of him and you just got it back.

This feeling could drowned you with ecstasy but it be worth every second, as long as you felt it this vividly. The promise of his permanence could make you a religious person. The threat of not touching him like this again, it could end your sanity.

He breathes you in as you scrape your nails up into the nape of his neck, laughing into his mouth as he moans into yours. 

"You have no idea how long I have been dreaming of this," pressing quick, wet kisses, “of you.”

His hands tangling softly through your hair as though he couldn't possibly let go. Pecking sweet kisses as if he couldn't believe this were real and he needed to touch you just to know it was really happening.

He drops his hands to trail down your sides and graze the curves he had memorized so fondly. Trailing to your hips and gripping them tight, he bucks his instinctively up into yours, coaxing a moan to let his tongue slide inside. He sucks on your tongue, persuading another gasp and making you say his name. you try to pull away for some semblance but he follows your candied lips, entirely feral. 

“Down boy,” You say as you try to pull away again, putting a hand on his chest in between you. But he won’t let you, chest pressed flush against yours like he couldn’t bear being further.

"I'm not letting you go again," your back arches as you lean backward, laughing as you try to create space.

Bucky has that same charm, smiling against your lips to make all reason disappear as you kiss him with the same reverence. You whimper into him as he drags your hips back and forth, just the way he knows you always liked.

He moans as you give in, almost whining when you follow his hips, "missed you baby. I’m never leaving you alone now yeah? Better get used to this sweetheart." 

You’re about to say something when a voice from the doorway startles both of you, "I don't think I'm ever going to get used to this, ugh."

You nearly jump out of his lap as you turn to face John, looking at you in disgust. Ava, Yelena, and Bob snickering next to him, Alexei striding in past them, headed straight for the fridge. Yelena walks past the couch to get to the kitchen, Bob and Ava following behind her and shooting you smiles like they knew this was coming. You mutter quiet apologies as Bucky rolls his eyes, not sorry at all.

They stop at the kitchen island just as Bucky reluctantly lets you hop off of his lap to sit next to him, adjusting your top and dishevelled hair. You reach over to fix Buckys, and he smiles at you almost drunkenly, his lips swollen from ferociously attacking yours. 

You don't have to look at Bob to hear the smile in his voice, "I think you guys are perfect for each other." 

Yelena snorts, "Yes, both are broody and try to kill people, so perfect."

"That is what all good relationships have, Lena, passion! That means they love each other, eh?" Alexei winks at you. 

Heat prickles at your cheeks as you look over to Bucky, who's already staring at you, smiling sheepishly when you catch him. He can't help the need to be closer to you, and he tugs you closer to his chest. You let him, humming in content as he pulls the blanket over both of you once again.

Everyone else is already lost in their own conversations, the sounds of utensils and pans clanking—you're distracted by the sounds that prove Bucky is alive.

Drowning out everything that isn't the sound of his heart thumping under your ear and the rumble in his voice when he talks. You're shutting your eyes and smiling when he catches you basking in the feeling of him. He kisses the top of your head as he changes the news channel to something else that you couldn’t care less about.

The weight of the world rolled off your shoulders like raindrops and everything that had been done felt fleeting and utterly unimportant. You drift asleep for the first time in a long time and, with photo evidence that Yelena showed you the next day, so does he.

In his strong arms, forgiveness came easy and adoration could’ve consumed you whole. You were smitten but he was infatuated.

Unconditionally, undeniably, and terribly in love.

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