I don't like a gold rush

You spot him before anyone has a chance to warn you—your heart giving a traitorous flip and your eyes welling up with tears involuntarily.

Steve’s heart leaps into his throat when he spots you.

Suddenly, he has no idea why he’s come here.

“Hi.”

You bite down on your lip to stop it from wobbling.

“Hi. What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to talk, to see you. Can we—” He tries to guide you to the side of the room, but you don’t budge.

“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m working.” You need him to leave, need the lump in your throat to stop rising before you completely fall apart.

“I just— sweetheart please— I miss you— just five minutes please, m’begging.”

“What do you want Steve?”

“I don’t— I don’t know— I want— I wanted you to…” He trails off, his stupid puppy dog eyes meeting yours and it takes everything in you to not cradle his face in your hands and wipe the tears about to fall.

“I know. I know you wanted me to stay, but you don’t get it Steve, I needed to move.”

You loved him. You love him. Of course you do. How could you not? Steve was everything you could’ve dreamed of — attentive, protective, and loyal to a fault.

But you needed more from your life than being Captain America’s girlfriend. And being in New York meant you’d always be just that.

So you left.

And Steve — well Steve would always put his duty above everything else. His duty to the city, to the Avengers — never mind his duty to you.

So he watched you leave—taking his heart with you, dripping all the love you’d poured into it right onto the floor of your shared apartment.

JJ was in the middle of a story, mouth full of the pancakes you had made him, the smell of burnt butter lingering in the hot morning air, sitting across from you at the old kitchen table, when you look up suddenly – raising your hand for JJ to stop talking – listening closely to the sounds outside, thinking you hear a car pulling into the driveway. You're so focused, straining to differentiate between the sounds of cars driving past and your mom's car, your ears almost ringing with the sheer intensity of it. JJ's leaning towards you, looking between you and the kitchen window, chewing slowly, waiting for your go ahead. No car. You breathe again, not even realizing you had been holding it.  

“Hey, it's okay, she's not coming back today, right?” JJ questions, finishing off his plate a little faster, knowing you'd probably want to go to your room, just in case.   

“Yeah, but you never know with her, she could just show up randomly.” You pick up both plates hurriedly, JJ still taking his last bite as you pull his fork away from him, putting the dishes in the sink.  

“You wanna go to your room?” JJ presses himself close to you, washing his hands after you. 

“Yeah, what time do we need to leave at?” You pull him down the short hallway to your room, giving a quick glance into your mom's room as you passed, a nervous habit.  

He shrugs “about 10 minutes.” 

“Okay, come on, I'll get my stuff and change.”  

───♡─── 

"Mm, you taste so good, what is that?” JJ's voice comes out low, rough, mumbling against your lips. You giggle softly “I don't know, just me?”  

JJ had flopped down onto your bed, flicking his lighter on and off when he saw you pulling your pink pyjama shorts down from the corner of his eye. One thing led to another, and now here you were, wrapped up in each other, laughing against each other's lips, kissing slow and soft for the last 10 mins – JJ humming low into your mouth every now and then. He tastes like salt air and maple syrup – his hands pulling you closer and closer to him, and you swear you've never felt safer than in his arms.  

JJ's phone goes off for the third time, and you glance sideways to see a message pop up from John B. JJ gently pulls your chin back towards him, kissing you again.  

“JJ, *kiss* what did *kiss* they say? *kiss* They're *kiss* probably waiting *kiss* for us.” He swallows your words, not being able to get enough of you.  

“Doesn't matter, there's more important things going on here,” he mumbles against your lips. 

“JJ.” you laugh against his lips. 

“Shh, I'm kissing my girlfriend.” He moves to lay on top of you, lips still chasing yours, when you hear a car pulling into the driveway. You're sure this time. You push JJ off you, eyes wide, heart pounding, scrambling to get off the bed, tuning in to the noises outside in that way only you could.  

"Wha-” JJ hadn't heard anything, brows furrowing at your sudden shift.  

You put your finger to your lips, signaling him to be quiet. You hear keys going into the front door lock a second before the front door slams open. You feel it in your chest, as if the door had slammed against your heart.  

"Shit shit shit,” you mouth, your eyes furiously searching the floor for your pyjama shorts, quickly pulling them back on.  

Your eyes flick to JJ, scared, "She wasn't supposed to be home today, fuck.” 

He's standing up now, eyes frantic, searching yours as you rush to your room door, locking it. Your mother yells out to you, sending your heart into your throat, your whole body hot. Your hand hovers over the doorknob – bracing yourself – when you hear her throw something, the sound of it breaking making you and JJ wince. You turn to JJ, warning. 

“JJ whatever you do, do not come out of my room, okay, promise me?” 

Your eyes are boring into his, willing him to understand, as if you could make him stay with the sheer intensity of your look. 

“No, baby, I'm not letting you go out there by yourself, are you crazy?” He shakes his head, not getting it, as he moves towards you, ready to follow you out.  

"Maybe if she sees I'm here, she won't do anything,” he whispers to you, almost begging. 

“Listen to me, please, you can't come out, no matter what, whatever you hear, I don't care if I'm screaming for you, do not come out, if you do, it'll make it so much worse for me. She'll actually kill me if she thinks I'm trying to get my boyfriend to stand between us.” 

JJ's eyes fill with fear at your words. “But – ”  

“JJ, if you care for me at all, you won't come out until you hear her leaving.” 

She's yelling your name louder now. Angrier. You look at JJ, desperate. 

“Promise me?” 

“I promise.” It kills him to agree to that, wanting nothing more than to argue that he could protect you, he could get you both out before anything happens – but deep down, he knows you're right, he knows there's no way around this, knows it'll be worse – almost irreversible, if he tries anything – all too familiar with the violence that comes from hands meant to love you.  

Dread fills you, weighing you down as you drag yourself out of your room – are your feet even moving? Yes, you're in front of her now, can see her feet.  

“Yeah, mom? You were calling me?” Your heart is beating so hard in your ears, that you don't even know if you said it aloud.  

“Can you not hear me from your room? Why did you have the door closed, huh? You can't even hear me calling you.” She's almost spitting the words at you – eyes filled with a hatred she reserves just for you. Your eyes burn – threats of doors being removed from hinges, ‘why do you need privacy? You trying to hide things from me?’ – filling your head, you don't even know if she's saying it now, or if you were remembering a time before.  

“I was just about to change my clothes.” You hear yourself say, God, you sound so shaky, get it together.  

“It's 11:30 in the fucking morning and you're just getting up now? Don't you have school today?” 

“It's the summer break mom, there's no school today.” Your words come out soft, mumbled. You can't look at her, you know you should, know it makes her angrier when you don't, but you can't, it's as if your head weighs 30 pounds, impossible to lift your eyes to meet hers. 

You prided yourself on knowing the exact combination of words to not set her off, you know her, you tell yourself, you can control it. You can't of course, it never really followed a pattern, didn't matter what you said or did – because for it to change based on your actions, it would've had to start with you, be caused by you – and it never did, it wasn't your fault, but it was harder to believe than say. You'd say it to JJ, believe it even, when it came to his dad – knowing that the abuse started with them – the abusers, and the way they took their position of power, your deep desire to be loved, to be cared for as any child should be – and warped it into something ugly.  

"So where were you off to? Going to hang with those stupid, no-good friends of yours, your low-life boyfriend, wasting your life away?” 

You're suddenly very aware of JJ being in your room, eyes stinging with embarrassment, not wanting him to hear these words, feeling protective of him. He'd heard worse, his dad being who he was – Luke; all talk of laziness and good for nothing children who do nothing but smoke weed and hang on the southside, all the while sinking further into the couch, making his home there, surrounded by empty beer bottles and trash, snoring, dead to the world, talks of I could've been something great, if it wasn't for you, “sacrifice” – adding layers and layers to the piles of debt, landing a punch here, a kick there, keeping JJ down like a well-trained dog, ready to hand Luke the world, or maybe just another beer bottle or the tv remote that was right fucking next to him – laziness indeed.     

"Look at these fucking dishes, were you going to leave the kitchen like this, huh? Leave it for me to clean up after you?”  

“No, no mom, I swear, I was going to do them before I – ”  

She slaps you across the face, hard, your face burns, your ears ring, a metallic taste filling your mouth as your body seizes up, eyes brimming with tears as you hold your cheek in your hand, the adrenaline coursing through your veins giving you enough strength to finally look up at her.  

You regret it immediately, she's suddenly 20 feet tall and you're 8 years old again, crying, begging her not to throw out the bracelets John B had made you because you had left them in the living room – a space she had warned you to never leave your things.  

“Mom, please, JJ is here,” you beg, the hope burning bright in your chest, threatening to go out any second. Maybe if she sees I'm here, she won't do anything – JJ's words playing through your mind.  

JJ's listening through the door, fists clenched, pacing, fire running through his veins. He heard the slap, felt it, but he promised you, he promised you. He breathes deep, closing his eyes, tears threatening to fall, chest heaving. 

“I don't give a fuck who's here, I'll slap you in front of him. You trying to threaten me now, huh? With your little boyfriend. I don't give a fuck about him. He better not come out here, you got that? He comes out here, and I'll kill him.”  

You know she means it, know she'd do it, the hope that had been burning in your chest extinguishing quickly, gone. You nod, breathing out, taking a slight step back. I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here. 

"Get the fuck out of my face, I can't stand to look at you,” she spits out, turning away from you. You walk away, sighing, relief flooding your body, the hope reigniting, thinking that was the end of it. 

JJ's sigh mirrors yours – you could feel it from outside the door, he's starting to open the door, just the tiniest bit, ready to take you in his arms, when his heart drops – he spots your mom coming up behind you, yelling – ‘you think you can threaten me with your boyfriend, huh, let's see.’ – before she grabs you by the shirt and slams you against the wall. JJ hears it, feels it, flinching hard, his body shaking with rage, with fear, with pure terror. No. No. NO. Please, God, no, this can't be happening. JJ shit, MOVE. do something. go to her. HELP HER.  

He's frozen in place, watching as your mom's fist connects with your face – you stumble, glaring at her, blood filling your mouth. All you can feel is heat, heat, heat – the pain rushing through your skull like wildfire. You hear her yelling, ‘You lazy piece of shit.’ Your body is shaking, you want to hit her, want to scream, you want to get out and never come back. You feel the blood drip down from your nose, hot, you're so hot, so angry, so. fucking. done. Your mom hits you again as you try to dodge her, you can't tell where her fist lands, your body has stopped registering pain – you're starting to shut down, starting to go to that place in your mind where everything's quiet.  

She'd lost her temper like this a few times, less often now that you were older – you were well-trained now – no talking back, wash the dishes before she gets home, don't go out with friends when she's in a bad mood. There'd be days where you'd come home and she'd have cooked, cleaned even, sitting on the couch, asked quickly how your day was. ‘Good,’ you'd mumble, confused, a little hopeful. She'd probe further, asking where you went, ‘how's JJ? He good? What about your other friends?’ She never remembered their names. You'd sit down next to her, warily, before recounting your day, your voice getting more sure as you went, telling her with a laugh how John B had gotten in trouble for bringing a bucket full of water balloons to class, how Kiara had a crush on this new boy at school, ‘he's from California, very into the environment’. You didn't know when, but at some point, she had stopped listening – maybe she hadn't been listening at all – interrupting you, yelling about why you had got in trouble at school, ‘you ungrateful shit’, before dragging you to the kitchen – ‘you better have this clean before I get back.’ – and disappearing to god knows where. You didn't tell her about your day anymore.  

You would dream of someone swooping in and saving you, maybe your dad – whom you had never known – would just come in one day and put up a big shield as you packed all your things and walked away, into safety, into kindness, into a place you'd never have to worry about anything. JJ had the same dream, of course he did – it was the same dream all abused kids had, someone to save them – his mom would come back and hold up that imaginary shield, fierce and protective, daring Luke to lay his hands on her son again. He knew she wasn't coming, knew that if she was to, she would have taken him with her in the first place. You knew the same; no one was coming. No one. 

When you were younger and fantasy novels had become your escape, you'd tell JJ the stories (he was never one for reading), eyes full of wonder, whispers of magic, adventure, all the things the two of you could do, if you could just get out of here. ‘You know, once we turn 11, we could get our letters to Hogwarts and go together?’ you'd say, hopeful. JJ dreamed with you – ‘maybe Hagrid will show up on a boat and burst through the front door and take us away’.  

One day, you had caught JJ crying in his wardrobe, lip busted after Luke had lost a bet he'd made down at the pub – crawling in next to him, closing the door behind you, wishing, hoping, for hours – ‘maybe if we stay long enough, Narnia will show itself to us, Aslan will take us on an adventure, he'll make us king and queen’. JJ's eyes lit up at king; he could be a king and you, his queen. He smiled at that, placing his hand next to yours on the back wall, fingers brushing – wishing, hoping. Maybe there was a place for you somewhere. Two kids who just wanted to be loved, be safe – kids who looked at John B, whose mom left, and dad neglected him and thought – he's living the dream – what they wouldn't give to have a piece of his life, because when all you've known is violence – neglect and invisibility felt like safety. 

No one was coming, JJ knew that, you knew that, you could feel it in the back of your throat as your mother's fist connected with your body once again. It takes everything in you not to call out for JJ, his name sitting on the tip of your tongue, knowing that if you say his name, he’ll be there, no matter what he had promised you earlier. 

JJ's body drops to the floor against the other side of the wall, looking away, he can't bear it, feels like he's going to die, using every ounce of strength he has not to come out and pull your mom off you, throw her to the ground – shoot her in the fucking face for ever daring to even look at you wrong, let alone hurt you in this way. Come on. Come on. Fucking coward. Get up, get the fuck up, go to her. Right. Now. But you promised her. FUCK the promise, go to her. No, you know you can't, her mum will kill her if you go out. FUCK.  

He's still frozen, his body won't move, his mind warring with himself. JJ was never one to back down from a fight, always ready to throw the first punch, to defend his friends, but this – this was different. He'd known your mom since you were kids, almost as afraid of her as he was of Luke. He knew just how crazy she could get, had seen it. He could risk you – the person he loved most in the world – dying. You were going to come back here, to this house, to her, by yourself next time, and there's no telling what she would do if JJ dared intervene.  

You feel your hair being pulled, your mom slapping you again, spitting profanities at you as you move to get away from her, tripping over something as your head hits the wall, hard. No. No. She didn't mean to do that. She wouldn't, right? She had done a lot, but she had never knocked you out cold before. Your body's on fire, blistering, burning, you're drowning, running out of air. You feel your vision go spotty, your head throbbing so loud, you barely hear the words coming from your mom's mouth. You blink up at her. You're on the floor now. You think you see a hint of guilt in her eyes, remorse on her face. A trick of the light, your eyes not seeing clearly, it has to be. She's shrinking now, getting smaller and smaller as you try to move, your head screaming at you when you do. You feel a hand come to your cheek and you flinch ever so slightly, before seeing JJ, your JJ.  

In the distance, you hear the door closing, your mom's car driving away, your body going limp as relief washes over you. I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here. 

“Baby, baby, look at me, hey look at me, I need you to stay awake.” JJ's talking to you, you know his voice, know his blonde, messy hair and his infuriatingly beautiful blue eyes, but he's so far, so so far. Why is he so far away? JJ. JJ. Come here, come closer, I need you, I can't hear you, I can't see you. His hands are on you, you can feel him, you know his touch, still so far. How is he touching me from so far?  

“Baby, please answer me, fuck, baby, I'm so sorry, so sorry.” You feel yourself being lifted off the ground.  

“JJ”  

“Yes, baby, I'm here, I'm here, fuck, I'm so sorry baby, stay awake for me, look at me.” 

He's moving now, you're moving, you see the front door to your house closing, blurry, so blurry. Are you inside or out? I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here. You had said it out loud that time, without realizing.  

“I know baby, I know, we're going, you're going to be okay.” He's so far again, why does he keep moving so far? ‘JJ’, you sob his name, hands reaching for him. It pierces his heart, floods his brain until it's the only sound he hears. He's right there, you can feel the warmth of him, the hard curves of his muscles, his scent, so him, so warm, so familiar, he's right there. Why does he sound so far? He breathes out, hands shaking as he pulls open the door to the twinkie, sitting you in. As he starts to move to the driver's seat, you grab his arm.  

"JJ, where are you going? We're going to be late, we're going to be – for the beach.” 

He blinks at you, face filled with worry. Your eyes are barely open, you're not looking at him, your body is shaking, and your grip on his arm is so tight, he can't move. He lets out a shaky breath, taking you in, there's blood dripping down your face, handprint across your right cheek, shirt torn, marks already forming across your skin. His beautiful girl, falling apart. This is your fault; you could've stopped this. He places his hands on either side of your face, “Baby, hey look at me, I'm going to take you to the hospital, I need you to let go just for a second while I start the van, okay? Then you can hold my hand again.”  

"Promise?”  

“I promise.” His heart stutters, remembering his last promise to you, never wanting to promise you anything ever again. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.  

JJ goes to start the engine, hands shaking. The key won't turn.  

“Fuck, come on, not now, this stupid piece of shit.” His hand slams against the dashboard, his face burning, he's frantic, looking to you slowly losing consciousness and grabs your hand.  

“Baby, baby, hey please keep your eyes open, I'm getting you out, look at me, look at me, we're going to go to the hospital.” He was pleading with you, pleading with the universe, please, no, this can't be fucking happening. 

“No, no hospital, please, please JJ, I can't go to the hospital, she'll find out, or they'll find out,” you let out before slipping away again.  

He doesn't know what you mean, but he listens anyway, not knowing what else to do, desperately trying to get the twinkie to start – he takes a deep breath, holding the steering wheel as he turns the key slowly, it works this time, engine coming to life as he breathes a sigh of relief, speeding down the road. His phone's ringing again, he had put it on silent when your mom got home, looking to see 10 missed calls from John B and Kiara. He calls John B back, hands shaking.  

“JJ, what the fuck, dude? You can't just take the twinkie and then not answer – ” 

“John B, John B, shut the fuck up, is Pope there?” John B hearing the fear in JJ's voice, sits up, shushing the others around him, the worry on his face signaling the others to stop mucking around. They had assumed you and JJ were taking advantage of your time alone and had forgotten about the plans you had made earlier.  

“Yeah, yeah man he's here, everyone's here, what's going on?” 

“I'll be there in 5 minutes, okay? Tell Pope to stay there.” 

“JJ, what's going on?” Pope's voice comes through the speaker. 

“Just stay there, fuck, I'm nearly there, okay?” 

He hangs up, throwing his phone to the side, seeing it light up again with Pope calling. He ignores it, reaching out for you again.  

“Baby, baby, hey you gotta stay awake, hey, look at me.” JJ doesn't think he's ever been this scared in his life, he feels bile rising in his throat, his whole body burning, heart pounding through his chest.  

“JJ, it hurts.” Your hand comes to your lip, a sob slipping from your lips.  

You're awake, you're awake. JJ's hand comes to your face, then moves to your hand, pulling it to his lips, holding it there, proof of you being alive, being awake, being here, with him.  

“I know baby, I know, it's okay, I promise you're going to be okay.” Third promise today. He means it, you will be okay, you have to be.  

His voice is closer now, loud, almost too loud, pain searing through every part of you – the dips in the road making you cry out when your body bumps gently against the door. You're pulling up to the chateau, JJ putting the van in park, not bothering to turn it off, before running to your door, carrying you out – your head falls limp against his shoulder, blood smearing across his white t-shirt, adding to the stains that had been left there earlier. 

You see Sarah first, running up to you both, the others still inside, her hands coming to her face as she gasps loudly, tears filling her eyes immediately.  

“JJ, oh my god, what the fuck happened? Oh my god, oh my god.” She's panicking now, reaching for you when JJ pushes her out of the way. 

“Get the fuck out of my way Sarah. Pope! Come on man I need your help.” JJ's voice cracks, rushing you inside as Kiara holds the door open, staring in pure shock at the sight of you, Sarah following closely behind, cheeks wet with tears. He places you on the couch gently, "shh, shh, baby, it's okay, you're safe now.” 

“I'm here man, I'm here, what the fuck happened?” Pope pushes JJ out of the way, coming to hold your face as you smile weakly at him. John B and Cleo are behind him, everyone talking at the same time. It's chaos, ‘what the fuck happened?’ And ‘oh my god’, and your name over and over again. Sarah's crying. Cleo's rummaging through drawers for a first aid kit, Kiara's yelling at her, ‘it's in the bathroom, it's not there, fuck, fuck, fuck’. A first aid kit drops into Pope's lap, not sure where he got it, but he unzips the bag quickly and gets to work silently as the chaos continues. John B's quiet, still – he knows what happened, has known your mom the longest. He grits his teeth, moving to Sarah to hold her. She crumbles in his arms, letting out a loud sob.  

“Everybody, shut the fuck up!” JJ yells, his hands in his hair, pulling, dried blood on his face, his neck, his shirt, eyes wide – they all stop in their tracks, looking at him, waiting. He moves to your side, holding your hand gently. He's shaking. 

“Baby, hey you're going to be okay, yeah? Pope's going to fix you up, okay?” 

You nod a little to show you understand, not having the energy to speak, hand coming to cup his cheek, comforting. His hand covers yours as he tilts his face slightly, kissing your palm. Even now, bruised, bleeding, your eyes are filled with concern for the boy you love – you care about him so deeply; it makes JJ feel nauseous. You didn't protect her, you could've stopped this, it's all your fault, why didn't you do anything? Pope is pulling out antiseptic and bandages. The voice in JJ's head gets louder. It's all your fault, all your fault, all. my. fault. He's going to vomit.  

“You guys, can you give me some space?” Pope rips open the alcohol wipes, gesturing to the group to move aside.  

JJ's the first to move, eyes stinging, the lump in his throat getting bigger, he's so nauseous now, the smell of blood lingering in his senses. He knows he should say something, comfort you, but he can't think – he needs to get out – he gives Pope a frantic look, questioning, as Pope nods at him, a silent I've got it from here, take the time you need.   

JJ moves outside, door slamming behind him, he hadn't meant to open it that hard – John B follows, the girls stopping at the weathered couch on the porch. JJ takes a deep breath, placing his hands on his knees as he swallows the bile threatening to come up, the fresh air soothing him for just a second before he feels the anger rise – hot and heavy. He grabs the nearest object he can find – a crushed beer can from the many nights spent drinking around the fire – and throws it as far as he can, yelling, "Fuckkk.” 

John B walks over to JJ, throwing his arms around him, pulling him in. John B had seen him like this only once before – you were 10 years old and your mom had pulled you off a trampoline, your arm breaking, JJ witnessing the whole horrific thing, him and John B sitting next to you in a hospital room, confirming your lie to the nurse of falling off the trampoline on your own as your mom sat in the corner, watching. There were other times, when Luke had beat him black and blue, caused JJ to fracture bones, a rib, his wrist – but this was different, seeing it, seeing someone else be hurt that way right in front of you, by a parent, no less, it left him broken in a way that couldn't be laughed off, couldn't be waved away with a quick joke.  

JJ collapses into his arms and finally breaks, letting out a sob, heavy and messy as his hands grip the back of John B's shirt fiercely, anchoring himself.  

“It's okay, it's okay, I've got you, man, hey, hey, you're safe, she's safe.” 

“I didn't – I couldn't – fuck, I just – ” JJ cries harder, his body wracking with sobs.  

“It's okay, hey, hey, look at me.” John B holds the back of JJ's neck, pulling him in, pressing their foreheads together, grounding him.  

"You did the right thing, you did the right thing.” 

JJ's lip quivers, tears falling as his body shakes, pulling away from John B, hands running through his hair, “No man, I didn't, I did nothing, I just stood there and fucking watched, I let it happen, I didn't fucking protect her, I could've stopped it, I could've...” he trails off, voice cracking as the lump in his throat returns.  

“Hey, no man, you did the right thing, you knew you couldn't do anything because what happens next time, huh? What if she goes back, then what? You did the right thing, you brought her here, she's safe.” John B pulls him in again, holding him as he cries.  

“You did the right thing, okay, you did the right thing,” he whispers softly to JJ as his body shakes – Cleo, Sarah and Kiara coming up behind them, wrapping their arms around the boys. They stay like that for a few minutes, holding each other until JJ slowly pulls away, wiping his face with the back of his hand.  

JJ's recounting what happened now, talking softly as the others gather around him on the porch. Sarah's tearing up, Cleo's pacing back and forth, kicking things, throwing things, muttering to herself, while John B sits silently, head in his hands. Kiara's holding Sarah – never having felt angrier than in this moment, the only other time being when JJ had showed up to the chateau in a very similar condition to you. Her jaw's clenched, heart tugging hard as she remembers just how small and scared you looked as JJ carried you to the couch. She lets go of Sarah before going inside to check on you and Pope.  

JJ goes on to explain how this used to happen when you were kids, mostly for Sarah and Cleo's sake – them having only known you for a few years. Sarah had always heard of you, as kids who live in a small place tend to, but Cleo wasn't from here, she hadn't grown up hearing the whispered rumors of JJ's dad or your mom, hadn't seen you with a cast on your arm at The Wreck, or JJ with a black eye at the beach when you were both 13. John B tells them about the trampoline – Sarah letting out a sob, Cleo standing again, pacing back and forth, knife in hand, anger coursing through her, "Fucking shit man, I kill her.”  

John B pulls Sarah into his side, wiping her tears gently, kissing her forehead. Sarah lets out a shaky breath, "Shit, I'm sorry, I don't want you guys to have to comfort me as well, it's just – fuck, I don't even know what to say.”  

“It's okay Sarah, and hey I uh – I'm sorry about earlier when I – ” JJ's hand moves to the back of his neck, rubbing nervously. 

Sarah interrupts, “It's okay JJ, I was in the way, I get it, I would've yelled at me too.”  

JJ nods at her, a quiet truce – he's about to continue when he spots Pope and jumps to his feet – Cleo, John B and Sarah turning their attention to him as well. Pope's already putting a hand up, placing it on JJ's shoulder, silencing him. 

“It's okay, Kie's with her, she's okay, she wanted Kie to help her shower and change, told me, and I quote 'tell JJ he better have burned my clothes by the time I get out of the shower because I never want to see those again’, and then very dramatically threw them out the bathroom door once she was in.”  

JJ shook his head and laughed, a real laugh, almost disbelieving – your ability to comfort him – lighten his mood – even from afar, even when you yourself were hurting so much, left him in awe – warmth spreading through his chest, dimple appearing on his cheek as the others chuckled softly behind him. My girl. “Alright, give ‘em here then.” 

“She was asking for you two as well.” Pope gestures towards Cleo and Sarah, picking up your clothes and throwing them over to JJ. He hands him a clean t-shirt and a wet washcloth, JJ muttering a thanks before cleaning the dried blood and changing his shirt. Sarah readies herself, exhaling slowly with her hands on her hips and wipes her face. Cleo's still twirling her knife, face hard, as she kicks a stray beer can. Pope takes her hand in his, “hey, hey, I know you're angry. I am too, but she needs you to be calm right now, okay?” 

Cleo clenches her jaw, Pope presses a kiss to her cheek as her face softens, before following Sarah inside. Behind them, Pope and JJ are locked in a hug, Pope holding JJ's head as he buries his face in Pope's shoulder, mumbling, ‘Thanks man, you have no idea’, as Pope whispers back, ‘It's okay, it's okay’. 

───♡─── 

“Have you eaten?” Kie questions softly, eyes filled with a quiet concern as she watches you, sitting cross-legged on the bed, staring into the distance, barely moving, unblinking.  

You don't respond, eyes trained on the wall across from you, JJ's surfboard propped against it, next to a pair of your sneakers. A picture of all of you sits in an old wooden frame on the bedside table, next to a few tattered bracelets and a half-empty can of beer. There's hints of each of you around the room – a ukelele of Kiara's sits on the table in the corner, next to a pile of textbooks that could only be Pope's, hand-sketched drawings of turtles that you and Kiara had done, stuck to the walls with sticky tape. Pasted across the mirror were little post-it notes of messages you had left JJ – mostly notes of where you were gone that you'd stick to his forehead when you had spent the night with him, not trusting in him to have charged his phone – kept for the dirty jokes you'd scribble at the end, the rest of the Pogues scowling at the two of you upon seeing them. Various dirty t-shirts were strewn across the floor, JJ's most likely – the room having quietly become his refuge over the years – yours too, in more recent years. You had pulled one of them on after your shower, a blue kildare island t-shirt that still smelled like JJ – cheap cologne, salt air, the faintest hint of weed and something you couldn't quite place, something so uniquely him that you couldn't help inhaling it. 

The soft ends of your braid drip onto your back, dampening the shirt and bringing you back to the room. Kie had said something, you furrow your brows, shaking your head almost indiscernibly before turning to her and offering her a too big smile, “Sorry, what'd you say?” 

“I was just asking if you'd eaten, before we...,” she trails off, gesturing to the joint she was rolling, a knowing look on her face – you tended to get sick if you smoked on an empty stomach. You're itching for a smoke, wanting to take the edge off the pain still hammering through you.  

“Yeah, JJ and I had pancakes this morning.” You frown, a thought occurring to you before continuing. “Shit, that was only this morning, like literally a few hours ago, it feels like a lifetime ago now...,” you trail off as Cleo and Sarah walk in, Sarah immediately flopping onto the bed, and wrapping her arms around you as you wince. She pulls back, horrified. 

"Shit, shit, I'm sorry,” Sarah apologizes profusely, hands coming to your face, just barely, almost afraid you'd break under her touch. Cleo's leaning against the wall, one leg up as she takes the joint from Kie wordlessly, placing her knife down on the table. You lean slightly into Sarah's touch, biting your bottom lip to stop from crying when you feel the lump rise to the back of your throat. There was something about Sarah's softness, perhaps her own willingness to show vulnerability that had you almost breaking. She traced your bruises with her thumb before dropping her hands, whispering, “What happened?” 

You break eye contact with Sarah, looking around the room, “Oh this, you know, courtesy of mommy dearest,” you let out a humorless laugh, fading when you see your friends looking back at you, unamused. JJ would've laughed at that.  

“It's fine, you should've seen her,” you joke, knowing damn well you hadn’t dared place a hand on your mother. Cleo sits in front of you now, holding out the lit joint to you. You take a long drag, exhaling, eyes focused on the smoke dissipating in front of you. 

“You want me to kill her? I'll do it.” She looks you dead in the eye as you laugh, knowing full well she was not kidding. Kiara's hand comes to your forehead, moving the pieces of hair that had fallen from the braid before taking the joint, passing it to Sarah after she had taken a drag.  

“JJ said you lost consciousness for a bit? That she knocked you out?” Kiara questions. 

You huff angrily, rolling your eyes, “She didn't knock me out, okay? I tripped over something.” 

“Yeah but still, you need to go to the hospital, you should get it checked out,” Kie interrupts, voice raising slightly in frustration as Sarah and Cleo nod in agreement.  

“Just leave it Kie, okay? She didn't mean to knock me unconscious. I know she didn't,” your voice shakes, not really believing it yourself.  

Kie places a hand on your knee, pausing, “Hey, look at me – you wouldn't have been knocked unconscious if she hadn't been hitting you. Besides, unconscious or not, it's still not okay,” she says slowly.  

You sigh heavily, lip trembling as your eyes fill with tears, “Yeah I know,” dropping your head in shame. Kiara pulls you into her side, your head resting on her shoulder as Sarah passes you the joint.  

“None of this is your fault, y'hear me?” Cleo says it with so much conviction – you can't help but nod.  

───♡─── 

John B walks in, followed closely by Pope and JJ, smiling, amused at the four of you smoking and giggling, shushing each other as the boys walked in.  

“What's this?” 

“Oh nothing, we were just telling Cleo and Sarah about that time Pope got a boner in class.” You burst out laughing again, JJ and John B joining, clapping Pope on the back as he shakes his head. 

“Woww, okay, this is the thanks I get for patching you up, hmm?”  

You laugh louder, as Pope shakes his head, looking down, only half embarrassed. You grab his arm as he starts walking out of the room, “No, wait Pope, we're sorry, I'm very grateful for you patching me up,” you say through stifled laughter.  

Your eyes meet JJ's as the laughter dies down, an unreadable expression on his face as he smiles at you. John B walks over to you, handing you an ice pack and a glass of water with a straw that had two tiny boobs on it – straws you had bought and stored at the chateau, stating in all seriousness, ‘they make drinking water fun’. JJ had high-fived you, immediately taking one for himself, laughing, as John B shook his head. A match made in heaven, these two.  

“Hey kid, you feeling okay?” John B pats the top of your head, his boyish way of showing affection.  

You roll your eyes playfully, “Oh yeah, just peachy.” 

JJ sits down next you, pulling you into his side as he kisses your forehead. Kiara's rolling another joint, licking the edge of the paper, twisting it closed before passing it to JJ to light. Sarah goes to open the window wider, mumbling something about the smell.  

“So I'm no doctor, at least yet, so you're still going to the hospital to get checked, okay?” Pope gives you a stern look, one you'd expect from an older brother, daring you to argue with him.  

Your heart catches in your throat at the word hospital, your mind wandering back to the many times you had been there, if not for a broken bone, then dehydration, the times you had purposely injured yourself or not drank water, anything to get your mom's attention.  You roll your eyes – feigning indifference – snatching the joint off JJ just as he was about to take a drag, muttering a ‘hey!’ before raising his hands in defense when you give him a pointed look.  

“I'm not going to the hospital, okay? Just drop it.” You take a drag, feeling the effects, the pain now faded into a dull ache, before passing it back to JJ. He sighs heavily, hand coming to pinch the bridge of his nose, glancing around at the group with a pleading look, knowing he wouldn't be able to convince you to go.  

John B's standing at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, Pope and Cleo sitting on a chair next to him, all three of them glaring down at you, as if to convince you by sheer force of will. Kiara nods at Sarah, as they come to sit in front of you, knowing if you'd listen to anyone, it'd be them – something about Kiara's straightforward logic and Sarah's little sister like care, that had you folding. 

“I know you're scared but we just really want to make sure you're okay," Sarah was holding your hands now, eyes boring into yours.  

“But what if they tell her?” you say softly, head hanging down. 

“You're over 18 now, you don't have to tell them what happened, just that you bumped your head and want to make sure everything is okay, that's it.” Kiara reasons.   

You sigh, considering their words before taking a deep breath, not meeting their eyes as you reluctantly give in, “Okay, I'll go, can we go a little later though? I just want to hang out for a bit.” 

Pope opens his mouth to argue before JJ interrupts, knowing that you'd change your mind if anyone tried to pressure you more than they already had.  

“Sure baby”, JJ kisses your forehead, passing the joint back to you as he gives Pope a pointed look over the top of your head. Pope drops it, sighing and sitting back down. Kiara and Sarah smile at each other, satisfied with your answer.  

“JJ, did you burn my clothes?” you ask in a way that has JJ questioning whether he should have actually done it or not.  

“All taken care of princess.” He didn't think you were being serious, but on the off chance you were, he had gotten rid of them, smiling at the sight of you in a pair of his boxers and t-shirt. You give him an approving nod, and he sighs in relief. One thing right.  

“Hey guys, can I talk to JJ for a second?” you look around as they slowly nod and start getting up from their spots – John B snatching the joint from your hands with an ‘I'll take that’, Sarah shaking her head at him as he gives her an innocent smile, shrugging his shoulders. She pushes him out the door with a laugh, Kiara, Pope and Cleo following, shutting the door behind them.  

The air suddenly feels thicker – you can almost feel JJ's heart beating against your shoulder, his chest warm and solid against your back. You turn in his hold, locking eyes before reaching for him desperately, wrapping your arms around his neck, face burying into his shoulder as he wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you back even tighter. Something you can't quite name washes over you – the way air hits your lungs when you surface the water – relief maybe, something more primal than that, your hearts beating against each other's chests, almost like his was pushing life back into yours, a quiet plea to keep you here. You ignore the twinge of pain you feel as his arms press into your bruises, welcome it even, needing nothing more than to feel him close to you, reminding you you were alive. You don't know how long you sit like that – silent – JJ's hand running up and down your back, memorizing the map of your spine, your hands twisted into the back of his t-shirt, shaky breaths escaping against his shoulder.  

You let go of him, sitting back on your feet, lungs protesting, as if being pushed back underwater – chest aching without his to keep it going. You settle for holding his hands, pushing your knees against his in your cross-legged position. It's not enough – you press your forehead to his, his blue eyes brimming with tears as he gazes into yours. You pull back suddenly, frowning, “Don't look at me like that.” 

“Like what?”  

“Like you feel sorry for me, I get that enough from everyone else.” You take your hand out of his, purposely looking away, you want it to sound mean, biting, but it comes out with a crack, voice wavering as JJ takes your hand in his again, catching your eye before he places a soft kiss to the corner of your eye, a bruise already forming around it. You bite the inside of your mouth, a nervous habit, swallowing hard as a lump forms in the back of your throat.  

JJ scans your face, eyes dropping to the bruise on your arm, watching as your face screws up when his hand lands lightly on your stomach. It's all your fault – you could've stopped it. Your hand comes to rest on his face, JJ leaning into your touch, eyes fluttering closed at the feel of your thumb brushing his cheek.  

You knew he didn't feel sorry for you, at least not in the way you had implied, knew he was blaming this on himself, knew he'd be replaying the events of the day, going through footage like a detective on a case, pausing, rewinding, replaying in slow motion – I could've stepped in, I could've picked her up straight away, not went inside, why did I stall us just to keep kissing her? If I had been more careful, we could've been out of there before her mom got back. I could've stopped it, pulled her mom off her – I should've protected her.  

“It's not your fault, JJ,” you state it firmly, holding his face in both hands now as you guide him to look at you. He shakes his head ever so slightly, a tear falling down his cheek, refusing to meet your eyes. You know he doesn't believe you, so you say it again and again until he's crying into your shoulder.  

“I should’ve stopped her, I should've protected you.”  

“Hey, look at me,” you pull his face back, making eye contact before continuing, “You promised me you wouldn't come out and you kept that promise. If you had come out or done anything, it would have been so much worse than this. I need you to believe me. Say you believe me, JJ. This wasn't your fault and...”, you pause, taking a deep breath before adding, softer, “...and it wasn't mine either. If this was the other way around, would you blame me?” 

He shakes his head furiously, no, kissing your palm resting on the side of his face.  

“Exactly.” You press your forehead to his again, closing your eyes, breathing him in.  

You stay like that for a few minutes before JJ pulls back, fingers tracing over your bruises, lips pressing to the bruise forming on your cheek, then trailing his lips down to yours, kissing you ever so gently, careful not to hurt you, your lip stinging with the slight split in it. He's holding you so delicately, kissing you with so much tenderness, it makes your heart tighten and the lump rise back to your throat, eyes stinging with tears.  

“JJ, stop,” you let out an almost sob. He sits back immediately, eyes searching yours, face riddled with worry. 

“Shit, baby, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to – ” 

“No, no it's okay, it's not you, I'm just – I'm so – I don't even know, it's just all too much and I – ” you trail off as JJ's hand comes to the side of your face, wiping a stray tear with his thumb. He doesn't push, doesn't ask you to continue, just waits there, arms ready to catch you, hold you, should you need them. The thought makes you let out a sob, finally breaking as your head comes to his chest, arms wrapping around his middle. He pulls you into him, holding you as you cry, shifting his body so that your head rests on his shoulder, arms wrapping around your waist as your body shakes, sobbing into him.  

“I'm here baby, I'm so so sorry, I'm here, I'm here,” he whispers into your ear, eyes screwing shut, his heart aching.  

───♡─── 

“Remember us making out this morning?” Your voice interrupts the silence that had settled over the two of you. You were all cried out, letting out soft sniffles as JJ had wiped your face, before moving to rest against the headboard, you leaning into his side, head resting on his chest as you fiddled with his rings.  

JJ chuckles softly, “Yeah baby, what made you think of that?”  

“It just seems like it was so long ago, like another universe that doesn't even exist right now.”  

“Hmm, yeah it does,” JJ hums in agreement, hand coming to play with the strands of hair that had fallen from your braid.  

“Sometimes I get worried that this is all life is ever going to be, you know? 

“What is baby?” 

“Pain. And people fucking us over. I'm so sick of it.”  

“We'll get out of here one day, baby, we will.” He says it with so much certainty that you almost believe it, you could feel it, so close but just out of reach – the future the two of you talked about.  

“You really think so?” 

“Yeah, I do.”  

You let yourself believe it, let yourself indulge – thinking of a small house, a dog and a cat, decorating the house for the holidays, fridge stocked with food, the rest of the Pogues sitting around the dinner table, laughing, eating, maybe having a games night, sleepovers with the girls, music playing, dancing in the kitchen and no one to say a single thing about any of it.  

You hear a knock on the door, JJ mumbling a quick Come in, the door opening as the others make their way back into the room. You and JJ must have been sitting there longer than you thought because they come in with pizza, snacks, and your favorite chocolate. You smile as JJ reaches for it, opening it and passing it to you.  

Cleo, Sarah and Kiara join you on the bed, laughing and chatting away, Pope and John B bringing the tv into the room, ‘just in case you wanted to watch something, you don't need to move’. You roll your eyes, laughing at them as they struggle to balance it on the table in the room. The next few hours pass like this, JJ never leaving your side, eating pizza, laughing, talking, Toy Story playing on the tv in the background, something light, John B had said before starting it. You fade in and out of the room but mostly you're here, with them, smiling around at them as you start to feel sleepy. You look out the window, listening to the wind rustling through the leaves of the trees in the afternoon sun, eyes slipping shut. 

“You know that song? The song the wind makes the trees sing for you on days like today?” 

JJ laughs a little, hand soothing over you as you relax into him – the others assume you're rambling about a new theory, the way you usually do when you're stoned, barely making sense to anyone. But JJ knows what you mean. He's heard the song too. Almost like the trees wanted you to feel less lonely when you felt the whole world was against you. He knows the song. He knows it mixed with the taste of blood and the burning hope that maybe, just maybe, one day, his dad would just stop. Not even love him, or care, but just stop because then maybe he'd have a chance at life, maybe he could stop feeling so. much. pain. So yeah, JJ knows the song. It's written on his bones. He says nothing, just pulls you in closer and kisses the top of your head as you sigh. 

You look around the room – JJ lovingly running his hand up and down your arm as you melt further into his side, legs tangling with his, Sarah cuddled into your other side, placing a kiss on your cheek as she asked you for the hundredth time if you needed anything, Cleo looking at you with the type of fierce protectiveness you'd see from an older sister, daring anyone to try and hurt you again, Pope checking in with you every few minutes to make sure you weren't fading, reminding you that you'd still be going to the hospital for a check-up, John B telling jokes that he pretended he was telling the room, but really it was just to see you laugh again, to keep you here, with them, and Kiara, swapping out your ice packs when they had melted, adjusting your straw so you'd stay hydrated – you realized that maybe this was it.   

Maybe the big shield you and JJ had dreamed of wasn't someone older and stronger, maybe it was this – your friends who tended to your bruises and covered your cuts in teenage mutant ninja turtle band-aids, your friends who loved you in a way you had never known – so gentle yet so fierce, holding you like you're worth something – worth everything, your friends who slowly sewed up the holes carved out in your souls by your parents. Not a shield – but an army, to stand behind you, ready to fight for you, ready to catch you if you should fall, to say a silent ‘We've got you’ while you save yourself. Family.  

a/n: ooft, this was a hard, hard write, i think i re-wrote this 6 times after my first 2 drafts trying to find the perfect version and honestly i'm still doubting so many parts lol. this is my first time publishing angst ahhhhh, so please let me know your thoughts in the comments!

here's some bits that didn't make it into the final story if anyone is interested.

read my other works here: masterlist

to be added to the taglist

Newly single, as the tabloids and gossip sites liked to call you. Like you needed the reminder your relationship with Bucky Barnes crashed and imploded before it took flight. And of course he was going to be here tonight, so that's all the reporters wanted to dive into. Never mind your film that you were so incredibly proud of, no.

That took a backseat to your love life for some unknown reason.

Just like your sense of worth took a backseat the second you made eye contact with him. The all black suit his stylist chose looked unfairly good. Pieces of dark hair framed his sparkling eyes as he gave you a knowing smirk that would no doubt be the centerpiece of photos that would be circulating like wildfire come morning.

"Liked your movie," his deep voice washed over you at the after party.

Clutching your trophy closer in your hand, you tried to remind yourself why you and him didn't work. "Didn't think you even saw it," your voice squeaked.

And then he leaned in, pushing you closer and closer to a dark corner of the room, with a look of sincerity he hadn't afforded you when the relationship ended. "Don't think I've left you all behind, baby," His mouth now moved to the familiar spot on your neck, hovering just above your skin, but enough to send heat through your veins.

Looks like one more thing was going to be taken in the backseat tonight.

Everything Taglist: @overwintering-soldier @stanmarvelous @wint3rbarnes @barnes-babydoll @defn0tonyourleft @herejustforbuckybarnes @stesha02 @sheriff-bodecker @wherewinterblooms @miraclediviner @tw1sters @bucksbby @daddysbitchybaby @metal-armed-muse @avgdestitute @imtoooldforthis82 @daydreamgoddess14 @hailmary-yramliah @nachtigall127 @heavenchana @ornateglass @steelandvibranium @stkmaprang @yourmomoclockit @misswhiddless @mariamorales1998 @mistressmkay @ladymiseryy @my-drvidess @alli0-0 @buckyscaptain @larissareidbarnes @castielscaplan @juniebjonesin @angelryex

His mother called your name as she hugged you. “We’re so happy you’re here!”

You smiled and hugged her back, “Scott told me you have a lot of plans ahead.”

“You have no idea, this week’s gonna be amazing!”

“Mr. Summers.” You looked at his father, and he hugged you immediately.

“When are you gonna stop calling me that? It’s been years.”

You shrugged your shoulders, “I don’t think I can stop.”

Some kind of tension in the air could be felt. They were explaining the plans for the week while you looked around, only thinking about what Bucky could possibly be doing.

In the middle of the dinner, your phone rang. You peeked and noticed his name lighting up your screen.

“Who’s it?” Scott furrowed, and you shrugged.

“Oh… Uh… Work.” You lied, standing up, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

You walked upstairs and hid yourself in your room.

“Hi, sunshine.” His voice came weary through the phone.

“Oh, James. You got me all worried.” You hurried to answer.

“Where are you?” You could hear a hurt tone in his voice.

“How do you know I’m not at home?”

“Do you really think I didn’t ask Banner to take care of you?”

“Fair point. I’m in the Hamptons…”

“Still with Scott, huh?”

“Yeah… this was planned.”

“Honey, you don’t have to excuse yourself with me. I don’t care if you’re with him or not…”

You didn’t want to take it to heart, but his tone came harshly, and you felt guilty. You were trying to find words to answer, but you remained silent.

“No… Fuck… I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t want to make it sound like that.”

“It’s fine… James… Can we talk later? I was in the middle of the dinner.”

He growled.

“I’ll see you when I get back to the city.”

“See you, James.”

You got back to the table, and they were back to talking about business.

“Everything alright, babe?” Scott placed his hand on your leg as you sat.

“All fine. The new girl is still adapting.” You smiled wryly.

“They should be ready for your leaving.” His mother spoke, “It’s gonna be soon. They need to be prepared.”

“Huh?” You tilted your head. “I’m not planning on changing jobs soon.”

Scott coughed, trying to ease the tension.

When the night ended, the words of your mother-in-law were now imprinted on your mind. You have never told anyone you were even thinking about leaving your job. Yes, you hated it with a special heat, but that didn’t mean you wanted to leave.

Scott had blacked out in bed, and you stood up to take a walk in the cottage’s garden. When you crossed his father’s studio, you could hear his voice coming from there. He was talking with his wife.

“Well! I didn’t know she was planning to keep that shitty job after the wedding…” She mumbled through her teeth.

“Maybe she doesn’t know he wants to propose… Maybe he’s not even planning on proposing soon… Maybe we misunderstood.”

Your world fell to your feet immediately.

You were about to break up with him… and he was planning on proposing?

You decided to stop eavesdropping and walked towards the door. The air outside was thick and humid, and your skin felt sticky.

Then, his name showed up again on your screen.

“Hi, James.” You answered immediately.

“Someone’s waiting for you at the back entrance. You got ten minutes before he goes and knocks on the door.”

“What?”

“Ten minutes. The clock is ticking.”

He hung up, and you decided not to waste any minute. You knew him. You knew he was not lying. Now, your short and revealing pajama set felt completely inappropriate as you ran to the back door of the villa, your bare feet hurt from the feeling of the ground and the garden.

When you arrived, a black car waited for you. There, Clint, with a fed-up expression, opened the back door for you to get in.

The gate creaked as you opened it, but it was too far to be heard by anyone in the main house.

“Good night, Clint.”

“Night.” He answered, not even looking at you.

It was partly out of respect, partly out of being mad for having to do this.

“Where are we going?”

He didn’t answer.

“Is he mad?” He growled, “Clint…”

“Not with you if that’s your question.”

“Oh…”

“Is he fine?” You were now worried.

“He will be.”

The drive was short. The cottage was big, not as big as you could think a property of a made man should be.

Clint parked out of the main entrance and walked you through the house to an office in the back of the place.

“He’s there… Just… Be ready…” He opened the door and stepped aside.

“Thank you, Clint.”

You walked in, and your barefoot steps echoed through the room. He was sitting on a chair with his back to the door.

“James?” You mumbled.

He turned around, and you finally noticed his face. His cheekbones were completely shattered, his lips were busted, and some dry blood stained his face.

“What the hell happened to you?”

He drank from a glass, “Occupational hazards…”

“No, those are not…” You grunted and went back to the doors, “Clint?”

He opened the door immediately and looked at you, “Yes?”

“You have something to clean up his wounds?”

He chuckled and nodded.

You were facing the door, waiting for him as he came back with a first aid kit.

“Thank you, Clint.”

You walked towards him, and he had remained silent since you turned your back on him. You sat on the desk in front of him and leaned in to start cleaning his wounds.

He was grunting, gripping the mahogany desk you were sitting at.

“You don’t have to do this,” he mumbled, “Sweetheart, I was an asshole earlier.”

You shook your head and took more alcohol, dampening the cotton.

“This’ gonna hurt, James.”

He chuckled, “Probably not as much as it hurt when it happened.”

“Wanna tell me what happened?”

“Not really.”

“Fair.”

You were looking at his eyes, those blue eyes kept you completely out of your right mind. What were you doing in a mob’s vacation home when you were supposed to be sleeping next to your… apparently future husband?

“Fuck it,” He took you by your waist and made you sit on his lap—you were sitting on just one leg, but something inside made you move your legs to straddle him. His hands gripped your waist, and you turned around to dampen the cotton again.

“Look at this. Tell me the man who did this isn't still alive?” You furrowed when you were finally able to clean a blood stain on his cheek.

“He wishes he were not…”

“Ok… Ok… Stop… I don’t know why I asked that…” He chuckled.

Furrowing and whining, he gripped your waist while you finished cleaning him up.

“And now, look at you. As beautiful as always.”

“James…” The tone in your voice was pathetic.

“Let me do the talk first.” He begged, “I was an asshole, and I’m tired of pretending that I don’t care that you’re still with Scott, and knowing you’re there with him… it’s killing me…”

“That’s why you came all your way here?”

He nodded.

“James…” You sighed, “I think I’m getting married.”

He choked on his own saliva, “The fuck you mean?”

“His parents were talking about me quitting my job, and then I eavesdropped, and they were talking about him proposing or something like that…”

“And do you want that, sunshine?”

You shook your head, “But I think that’s next… Isn’t it?”

“Not necessarily…” His hand found a strand of hair and tucked it behind your ear. “Well, then... If I know you well... This could be one of the last times we see each other, right?”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because I’m about to do this…” His hands cupped your face, and he kissed you like he was starving, like your lips were the last meal he was ever going to have. Your fingers grasped his suit, without realizing that you pulled him incredibly closer, you were panting as his tongue found yours and made you wish this could last forever.

“And a sweetheart like you would never engage in something like this while being married.”

A tear left your eye.

“No… No… Don’t… Fuck… Don’t cry, sweetheart. Don’t do this to me. You’re gonna kill me…”

“I don’t want to get married, James…” You whined.

He stroked your hair and placed you in the crook of his neck, “You know you don’t have to, right?”

A knock on the door startled you both.

“It’s time,” Clint claimed from the other side of the door. You looked at him, tilting your head.

“I knew we weren’t going to be able to decide to bring you back home on time, so I asked Clint to do it for us.”

You pursed your lips and nodded. Carefully, he took you off his lap and walked you to the door.

“When are you coming back?” You turned to face him.

“I’ll be there when you get back if you still wanna see me when you get back.” He ticked his jaw.

You stood on your feet and kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t get in too much trouble.”

He scoffed, “Same to you.”

The way back home was silent. When he parked in the same spot where he had picked you up from, you looked at the big house.

“They haven’t woken up. Someone has been checking up.” You nodded.

“Clint, can I ask you something?” You looked at him through the rearview mirror.

“Go ahead.”

“What is this with Bucky and I?” He turned around, looking at you.

“If you are asking me if he’s interested in you, I think you know the answer.”

A note of his perfume still lingered on your clothes, and the earlier kiss still burned your lips.

“And is it real?”

He shrugged. Men in this field didn’t have the privilege of finding a woman like you, who was not interested at all in their money and power, but at the same time, he knew well Bucky at this point, and he knew he was capable of doing anything for you… For the best and the worst.

“It’s time for you to go, they haven’t woken up, and you’re still on time to sleep at least a few hours.”

“Good night, Clint.”

“Night.” He waited for you to walk into the house.

The morning had been hurried—you noticed how Scott kept avoiding you, and the more he did it, the more nervous you got. You didn’t want to get to the point where he was going to ask you to marry him, and now you had on your shoulders the kiss you and Bucky had shared earlier.

You were sitting in front of the mirror while you put your makeup on when Scott arrived and sat on the couch next to you. You noticed he was nervous; he was not even looking you in the eyes as he always had before. His hands kept toying with his fingers.

“It’s everything alright, Scott?” He shook his head.

“Promise me you won’t get mad.”

“Huh?” You put down the brush, “Why would I get mad?”

“I know this is not… the best moment to do it… but… I think this isn't going anywhere anymore.” He hurried to say.

You were trying to wrap your mind around the word that had just come out of his mouth.

“Come again?”

He sighed and stroked his hair. “I know it's a bit impractical to do it this way, but you love these trips, and you were so excited about seeing my parents, and they love you…”

You were seeing red. Your mouth was sealed in a line.

“Why would you invite me to a whole fucking weekend at your parents’ cottage just to break up with me halfway through?!” You shouted.

“I know… But I just realized I don’t feel the same about you anymore… This feels wrong but… I want you to have a good last weekend here… and we could keep it a secret till we go back home!”

You stood up.

“Are you being serious?”

“Yeah… I mean… We can skip the touching… Unless you want it…”

There were not enough words in your dictionary to respond to the nonsense he was saying.

“You know you're a piece of shit, right?”

You grumbled and stood up, starting to pack up your things.

“What… What are you doing?”

“Packing up, don't you see?” You motioned, “I'm not staying to help you keep up your image.”

He chuckled. Cynically. That mocking laugh that always made you mad.

“And how do you think you're leaving?”

“Oh, you don't have to worry about me…”

“My parents are not taking you back home.”

“I’m not saying that.”

Once he noticed he was not receiving any responses he left your shared room. You kept packing up until you had everything in your suitcase. When you finally found your suitcases all done, you took your phone out.

His number was the last in your call log.

Not even a second ring had sounded when he answered.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Bucky seemed busy, “All alright?”

“Not really… But… Did you already leave?”

“Not really. We were getting ready to leave.”

“Could you… Pick me up, too?”

Silence.

“I’ll be there in an hour. Time enough for you to pack up?”

“I’ve already packed up.”

“Back entrance?”

He joked.

“What about a main entrance meeting?”

A small chuckle could be heard on the other side of the line.

“Twenty minutes, I’ll be there for you.”

“See you in a minute, James.”

No one was to be seen, and you took your suitcases to the main entrance. You logged in the PIN to open the gate, and then, a black Audi arrived—ostentatious, pretentious.

Bucky—himself—got out of the car; black suit, face healing, woodsy scent filled up your lungs even from a distance. He stood still and stoic in front of you.

“Morning?” You smiled shyly.

“Is that all?” He tilted his head when he saw the three suitcases.

“It was a full week trip!” You whined. He shook his head and started to load his trunk while you remained silent.

And then, you finally came to a realization.

“James… How did you know where to find me?” You crossed your arms on your chest.

“Are you really asking me that?” He was organizing the suitcases in the truck. You nodded. “Well, one call and I found the address.”

“And why did you come today, and didn’t send Clint again?”

“I thought you needed me more than Clint.”

“Good call.” You smiled.

“Where the fuck do you think you are going?!” Scott's voice came loud from the entrance. Bucky smiled mischievously.

“James. Don’t.” You stopped him by his chest, “Let me take care of it.”

He sighed and kept going with your belongings.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going, and who the hell is this idiot?”

Bucky didn’t even bat an eye at him.

“He’s a friend. He’s taking me home.” Bucky chuckled and shut the trunk.

He walked like a gazelle to your side. He didn’t touch you; he just remained by your side, letting you handle the situation.

“You’re not fucking leaving… I told you you were going to wait till the end of the week.” He tried to yank you by the waist, but Bucky was faster and gripped Scott’s waist to push him.

You knew Scott was not an aggressive man, but you also knew he depended on his parents’ money, and he had been on a tight line for months, and he was about to lose everything as soon as they knew you were leaving.

“Scott, it’s for the best.” You pulled Bucky back and put yourself in the middle of them both. “James, go to the car.”

There was no living man who had ordered Bucky to do anything. And there you were, asking him to restrain himself from defending you.

“I prefer to stay.” His gravelly voice made Scott take a step back, “But I’m gonna stay aside.”

“Now, Scott. Your parents are a second away from coming. Do you really want them to know why I left? ‘Cause I’m completely ready to tell them what’s going on.”

“Are you cheating on me with him?” The cynicism in his tone was completely unbelievable.

“He’s just a friend.” You used the exact tone he had used with you every time you confronted him.

Bucky scoffed a laugh. “Sunshine, we need to leave. I have some things to do.”

You nodded and patted Scott’s chest. “If you need to blame me to try to keep your parents happy, just tell them I cheated… Or whatever makes you feel happy. I’m removing my name from the lease, and I’ll be leaving as soon as possible. You won’t see me at the apartment when you come back.”

“Oh, you are gonna leave?” He chuckled, “And how are you gonna do that?”

“Well, as you said, every time your parents removed their help from you, I always find my way to solve problems… So, I’ll find my way again.”

The open door was waiting for you, and Bucky offered his hands to help you get in. Then, he walked directly to his door. “Nice to meet you, Scott. I’m the way.”

Heat crawled to your cheeks when you saw Scott’s jaw drop to the floor.

“James!” You scolded him, and he just laughed.

He was talking on the phone while you typed on yours, trying to contact your landlord. You wanted to solve everything as soon as possible—even more when you thought about going back to him just to keep the peace.

“Yes. That address.” Bucky talked to his phone. “Uh… at least four men, I need that to get done today.”

"Do you have pets?” He talked to you.

“No?” You answered doubtfully.

“No pets. Yeah. I’ll send you the list of things.”

He hung up and handed you his phone.

“Send a text to that last dialed number with the things you need to take.”

“I… don’t… We don’t own too much. Most of the furniture was bought by his parents… Maybe just my clothes? I don’t care for the furniture…”

You started texting them a list of your things. When you finally finished typing everything, you gave him back his phone.

“Now… Do you wanna tell me what happened?” He was driving, but his hand found your leg, his thumb traced circles in your thigh; it was delicate, more like a tender gesture.

“Apparently… Scott was not going to propose…”

Bucky’s jaw clenched.

“And then?”

“He broke up with me… and he expected me to stay the whole week to keep pretending we were a couple in front of his parents.”

“Why?”

“His parents have been threatening for years to stop the support because he can’t hold a job… I was the most stable thing he had…”

“Look at him. Losing the only good thing he had.”

A twitching smile showed on his lips.

“Now… Where are we going?”

“Well… Your favorite person is waiting for you at my place. I’ll go and handle some things, and then I’ll bring your things to your new place.”

“James… I’m not living with you.”You hurried to interrupt, and he chuckled.

“As much as I wished that was real, I’m gonna find you a nice place, and you will be living there.” He looked at you, “Besides… Who do you think I am? I’m gonna let you take your time, and when you’re ready, I’m gonna take you on the most beautiful dates and give you flowers… I’m gonna show you what a real man can do.”

“You’ve already done that for the last few months… What’s gonna be the difference?”

“I was respecting that you were a taken lady… Now you’re completely free to fall in love with me.”

“Oh, you were respecting that?” You mockingly asked, raising your eyebrow.

“Oh, she’s got jokes now.”

You chuckled and finally held his hand. For the first time in months, it didn’t feel wrong to touch him; it felt like it was meant to be, and you loved the fact that he never crossed any boundary you had set previously. He was a powerful man; he could’ve had everything he wanted, but even he knew he had to fight for you. He had to fight to have a real place in your life, and he was willing to take every step to fit in your life.

“James…”

You interrupted his thoughts.

“Mhm?”

“You need to promise me you’re not gonna do anything against Scott.”

He furrowed. “Why not?”

“‘Cause it’s over. We don’t need to do anything else.”

“If he starts bothering you, I’m gonna do something about it.”

“Deal.” He smiled.“So… My Nat’s waiting for me at home?”

‘Home…’ He thought. He loved the way you called his house ‘home’. Even if you had been there just once, he knew you knew that it was completely yours to possess.

“Your Nat?” A fake tint of jealousy could be heard.

“My Nat. That’s my Nat.” You claimed proudly. And he knew you were only teasing.

“Don’t make me question if I still want her on my side, because now I’m not gonna feel safe leaving you alone with her.”

“Oh… you weren’t joking?”Your voice changed immediately; he noticed you were disappointed.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you really gonna leave?”

“Well... I was... But that voice makes me want to leave everything a mess and just hug you to my chest as soon as we get home.”

“That would be nice.” You admitted.

“Can you accept that I leave you with Nat for a little bit while I take some calls… and then I’ll be all yours.”

“I thought you were already all mine?”

He grunted. “Don’t make me question my decision of forgetting I’m respecting your time to heal.”

You lifted your hands in fake surrender.

When you finally got to his place. He made you wait and opened your door for you. At the main entrance, Natasha was already waiting for you. When you were about to run at her, he stopped you by the wrist.

“Have a great evening, and I’ll see you tonight.”

You nodded and smiled, “Promise you won’t arrive as beaten as I found you last night?”

“I’ll try my best.” You nodded and tiptoed, cupping his face with your hands.

Your fingers traced shapes in his cheeks. When you gathered enough courage, you kissed him fearlessly. His hands found your waist and embraced you, just to cup the back of your neck, his tongue found yours like he was starving.

And he felt like he was.

He had been waiting for this moment since the first time you kissed his cheek in farewell.

And now that he had you in that exact place, he was enjoying how soft your velvety lips felt, how your breath hitched with every grip of his hands.

“James…” You mumbled between kisses. “Please tell me you’re coming back.”

“What are you even talking about? I’m finally able to touch heaven with the tip of my fingers by kissing you…” He pecked your lips, “I’ll be back, my sunshine.”

“When’s my turn?” Natasha teased, getting closer to you.

“Fuck you, Natasha.” Bucky flipped her off.

You giggled and looked at her. Bucky was still holding you by your wrist, and now your hands rested on his arms.

“Be glad that I know you would never betray me.”

You shook your head, “We will be fine, James.”

He didn’t waste any chance he got and kissed you again. “I need to get going, I think it’s the third time we've tried to say goodbye.”

You created a distance and decided to walk to Natasha, who greeted you with a hug and a tight grip to keep you by her side. You waved bye at him, and finally, he left to run some errands.

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More faked orgasms than you could count.

The phone number lit up on your screen—and you knew he was going to answer. He said he was always going to do so, but you also knew he was going to unleash all hell if he knew what your boyfriend had done to you this time.

You finally tapped the screen. Really hoping he was going to be busy with a meeting or with some of his colleagues.

“Good night, darling.” His rough-edged voice sounded through the phone.

“Hi, James. Caught you busy?” You mumbled.

“Never for you, sunshine.”

On the other side, Sam signed some contracts Bucky had been avoiding for days. Steve leaned on the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Who’s it?” Steve mouthed to Sam—who mouthed back your name in silence.

“I’m amused she didn’t run away as soon as she learned who Bucky was.”

Sam chuckled.

“So, what do I owe this call to? Do you need some help with your rent again?”

Sam was about to take out his phone to e-wire the money.

“No!” You rushed, “Dear lord, no. That was a one-time thing, James. And I still have the money saved to pay you back, but you haven’t accepted it.”

Bucky shook his head, and Sam stopped himself.

“Talk to me, honey. What is it?”

“Just wanted to talk. You’re kind of my only friend now.”

“Don’t lie. I know you’ve met with Nat lately.”

“James, c’mon. She’s on your payroll—that doesn’t count as a friend if she gets paid to check up on me once in a while.”

“How low you think of me. Nat might be on my side, but she’s pretty much my troubled kid. She would never fake being someone’s friend just because I asked her to.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Where are you at? I can’t hear your usual rom-com in the background?”

“How do you know I’m not at home with my TV turned off?”

“Don’t make me ask Stark to track your phone as we speak.”

“Huh. Being friends with the mob is not always that fun.”

“Is that what I am now? Just a man in the mob—and here I am, thinking I was building an emporium.”

“An emporium of dubious origin.”

“Last warning before I dial Stark on my landline,” He scolded.

“I’m at a bar. Just hanging out.”

“On your own?”

You couldn’t hear, but Bucky stood up and started walking to one of his cars.

From the first day you met him, he realized you were something different. Something he would never have found in the world he lived in. He wanted to protect you from day one. The way you smiled lit up his own world. He had just bought you some coffee and books the first time you met him. He was paying a visit to his sister, Rebecca, at the bookstore he had bought her to launder some money.

You brought five books to the register and were yapping to Lia—Rebecca’s worker—trying to decide on just one.

Bucky stared at you while Rebecca feigned not to notice.

“Why don’t you just buy them all?” He asked, leaning on the desk.

“Oh, well. I can pay just for one.” You furrowed.

Bucky took out his credit card and placed it in front of Rebecca. She was already running the card through the machine while you were speechless.

“No. I mean… I was not asking for…” You were stumbling on your own words.

“Is that coffee shop next door good enough?” Bucky interrupted you, and Rebecca nodded, “Lia, can you go pick coffees for everyone—including you.”

Rebecca took the books from your hands and placed them in a pink bag.

You looked at him like he had three heads.

“James.” He offered his hand to greet you.

You shook his hand and said your name back

“Miss, what can I bring you?” Lia looked at you with puppy eyes—Rebecca giggled and guided her by the shoulders.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You looked at him.

“Well, I bought those books, and I want to know why you wanted to buy them. A coffee would be needed for that.”

“Yeah. Kinda wanted to be alone.”

“What did he do now?” He was already heading to the main door.

Sam and Steve shook their head at the same time.

“Bucky’s fucked. That girl has him wrapped around her little finger.” Sam joked.

“And she doesn’t even look his way.”

“Wait, is she still with that Scott guy?”

“I think by his tone, he’s not even going to be alive soon…”

“He didn’t do anything. I think I’m just being dramatic.”

“Don’t you dare say that again. You’re not being dramatic, I don’t care what you did.”

He was already driving all the way to your favorite bar. The only one you visited.

“I found some messages with another girl.”

His hands clutched the steering wheel.

“That’s something big, sunshine.”

His tone was low. Almost a murmur.

He was the most feared man in town. He had a whole emporium at his feet; if he snapped his fingers, your boyfriend would’ve been dead without even looking like a crime. And yet there, he knew if he did that, he would be screwed with you. So, he could say, you were the only person he was afraid to mess with.

“I think I just misunderstood everything.”

You were trying to ease your mind—but deep down you knew he was right. It was a big deal, you felt it like that.

“If you just let me…” He mumbled.

“No, James. We’ve gone through this before… I don’t want him dead. I really love him. And you can’t go around threatening everyone who does me wrong—”

“Oh, so you admit he did you wrong.”

You sighed.

“How did that deal end with Fury?” You asked, trying to change topics.

He chuckled; it was fine. It was going to be a few minutes before he arrived at the bar. He spent the next ten minutes explaining vague things.

He could have been deeply in love with you, but he was not dumb enough to tell you all his details through a phone that could be tapped.

But it had been almost six months since the first time you met, and he had given you enough details that you could’ve claimed the bounty offered for his ass. And you never did, not even when you were struggling to make ends meet. But, instead, you cried on his shoulder for almost an hour because your boyfriend didn’t even want to take one or two double shifts to afford rent.

He made Stark find out who your landlord was and paid two months in advance, and you learned that when you were about to call your landlord to ask for more time—the confirmation of the two-month payment arrived at your apartment.

You didn’t tell Scott. He ‘helped’ you to pay those months, and when you got the full amount, you tried to pay him back. You were on your weekly ‘friendly date’ as you called them. Rebecca’s bookstore with some coffee or whatever thing you had asked for at the moment.

He didn’t even accept it.

“It’s a payback for all the times you had to stay late with me when I needed a warm moment.”

“That’s not something you should pay for…”

“I used to pay hookers to do that.” He said, sipping on his whiskey.

“Am I a hooker now?” You knitted your eyebrows in the middle.

His cheeks blushed immediately. “No!” He shouted, and you burst out laughing.

“I know what you meant, James. And I’m happy you feel comfortable enough with me to do such.”

“Now, are you done with deflecting the topic?” He said, coming back from his memories.

“I’m not deflecting! I was worried that you wouldn’t be able to convince Furry.”

He took his phone and put it back to his ear, “Look at you. Thinking I can’t manage my own business.”

He made his entrance at the bar and looked at you sitting at the bar zone with a watery drink in front of you. That cute dress he had seen you wear so many times, but never got tired of seeing.

“How long has that drink been sitting in front of you without being drunk?”

You furrowed your brow at his question and turned slowly just to see him standing at the entrance. He was wearing a black suit that could kill all the girls at the bar. His woody cologne filled the whole bar, or maybe you were so used to it that you could spot it anywhere, and a beard that he stopped shaving the moment you told him he looked more handsome with it.

“I didn’t ask you to come.” You said when he finally got closer to you.

“You don’t ask for a lot of things, I do the things for you ‘cause… I like your company.”

You smiled, and he tilted his head.

“Now, let’s get out of here.” He placed a bill on the table and made you get off the stool to walk with him—his right hand guided you by your lower back to the exit.

“The bookstore isn’t closed today.” You looked at him, worried. “And I don’t want you to make her close it again just because you don’t trust any other place to hang out with me in.”

“I’m taking you somewhere else. Do you trust me?”

“I did before you asked.” He husked a laugh, and you could swear he made it sound that pretty on purpose.

“I’m kinda busy right now, but I hated the idea of you being alone here. So, what about you coming with me to my place, and then I’ll take you home whenever you ask me. Promise.”

“I—don’t want to interrupt you…”

“You won’t. I’m just signing some things Sam asked me for. We can even go and buy from that restaurant you keep telling me and bring some take-out to Steve and Sam, or they are gonna chew my ass.”

“Is Natasha there?”

“No, sunshine. I’m sorry, she’s traveling now, but I can arrange something for you to see her soon.”

You smiled and nodded.

“My place?” A literal mansion with the biggest garden you had ever seen—multiple cars, a large number of people surrounding it, probably guarding it. “Do you really call this mansion ‘a place'?”

His hand was again on your lower back, and his free hand held the biggest bag of food while you held a smaller one.

“What fuckin’ took you so long?” Two men emerged from one hall.

They didn’t even look at you at first, until the black man nudged the blond’s shoulders.

The blond said your name, more like questioning it.

“Oh… yes… Steve, right?” You offered your hand, and he shook it. “And you must be Sam.”

Both of them nodded. "Nice to meet you.” Steve finally responded.

“We brought you food from my favorite place, hope you don’t mind I chose it.”

You noticed they were rigid in their foot, but both shook their heads.

Bucky tossed the bag at them and made you walk to his office.

“We’ll be in my office. Don’t worry, Sam. You will get your contracts signed in an hour or two.”

He said before closing the door.

“Did… Bucky bring a girl here?” Steve nodded, pursing his lips.

“Apparently.”

“He told us she was young… but how old is she?”

“Twenty-four… Twenty-five next month.” Steve said like he was reciting something.

“Did he make you study her or what?” Steve nodded.

“Well, you should be ready for the cute, pink party you’re going to throw next month for little Miss Sunshine here.”

You were placing the containers on a big table in the middle of the office, while Bucky brought the papers he needed to sign.

“So, you talk about me with your friends?” You teased.

“If any man surrounding me talked to me half as teasingly as you did, he would be a dead man, you know?”

“Yeah, but you don’t like them as much as you like me.”

“And don’t take advantage of that, sunshine.”

He knew you meant as friends. You were always clear that this was platonic.

You never really told him, but you liked him the same way as he liked you, but between your fear of his life, the fear of starting all over again after five years, and the clear age gap between you two. You didn’t want him to know your true feelings.

“I’m gonna be busy for a few minutes. I got some books for you, they are over there on my desk. Read for a while, and then we will talk as much as you want.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to buy me more books…”

“Becca told me you were there last week and only bought one, even when I was very clear that I’d pay for any book you wanted.”

You were going to kill Rebecca for tattletaling on you.

“I—didn’t want to take advantage of it.”

“Well, I’m asking you to take advantage of me.” He placed the paper on the side and continued to the next.

You moved a container closer to him. “Eat, please.”

“Thank you, darling.”

He knew he was in the wrong. He knew he shouldn’t have brought you to his life—but you were that light he thought he had lost when he started this life, and he was sure he was going to make you understand that even if it meant spending his whole time with you by his side.

Some minutes later, he saw you typing on your phone with rushed hands.

“Is that who I think it is?” Bucky didn’t even look up.

“Uh… if I told you no, are you gonna believe me?”

“Not really. It was more of a rhetorical question.” He fixed his eyes on you. “What did he tell you about all those texts?”

“That she was a friend… and I was not seeing the full image.”

“Well, tell him you’re with a friend too. And turn off your phone before I take it.”

You giggled and nodded.

You hated to lie to Scott… But when it was about Bucky, something made you lie. You didn’t even have a good excuse to tell, you were spending your time with an older guy in a bookstore, let alone now in his house.

“Now, you eat. We got a lot of talking to get to.”

After a while, he was finally done with all his signings and took you to the couch in his office.

You were sitting on the corner while he leaned on his side, looking at you—you were explaining the whole situation in full detail. He just nodded and let you finish. He didn’t even gesture all the hate he wanted to show; he wanted you to feel comfortable telling him all the details.

“I’m trying to understand, sweetie. But I can’t. Look at you, why are you wasting your time with that thing?”

You chuckled. “He used to be a good guy…”

“Yeah. And I used to be that too, but look how the tables have turned.”

You rolled your eyes, “You’re a good guy still.”

A smile twitched on the corner of his lip.

“Flattering. But I’m not a good guy.”

“You’ve been nothing but good to me.”

“Well, you’re something different.”

“I’m sure that’s what you say to every woman…”

Clutching the armrest with his hand, he looked at you.

“I’m not even going to dignify what you just said with an answer.”

A knock on his door made him grunt.

“I’m busy, fuck off,” Bucky growled.

“It’s not optional,” Clint shouted through the door.

“Who’s that?” You didn’t recognize the voice from earlier.

“Your call to go home.” He seemed pissed off. “C’mon, sweetheart.”

“Oh…” You furrowed your brow, looking at him with a hint of sadness.

“If this idiot is here,” Bucky said as he stepped outside, where a man with a sleeve full of tattoos was waiting, “that can only mean something went terribly wrong, and I have to fix his mess.”

Clint handed him a gun, and he placed it on his back, tugging it between his jeans and his shirt.

You tried not to look so impressed by the gun, but your eyes were still focused on the arms Clint was still holding.

“But…” You stuttered and stopped, looking at him.

This was a side you had never seen—stern, pensive, tense—his jaw clenched every time he looked at Clint.

“Banner’s gonna take you home, and I’ll call you as soon as I’m free.”

He made you walk faster; his eyes were fixed on the main door. Now, Clint, Steve, and Sam followed him some feet behind, while his hand gripped your arm to be by his side.

“Who’s Banner?” Your weary voice had him on his nerves. He knew you were completely right to be worried—but he hated the idea of him being the reason.

“Go to the jet, I’ll be there in five.” He ordered his men, all of them nodded, and walked past behind you.

A man who seemed too calm to work for him waited in the entrance, too.

“Sunshine, you know who I am, you know the implications of the life I live. Now, you’re gonna follow every instruction Banner gives you. You’re gonna go to your apartment, read whatever you want, wait for my call, and we’ll have one ‘friendly date’ as soon as I’m back.”

“Why does this feel like a goodbye, Bucky?”

Bucky scoffed a laugh. “Not even the toughest man could deprive me of seeing you.”

His eyes were deep—for the first time, the ocean blue nestled in his eyes was almost nowhere to be seen, and being so near him, you noticed those scars that bedecked his face.

“Promise you’ll be fine?”

He looked down, noticing a pink hair scrunchie that wrapped around your wrist. He traced a path from your finger to it, taking and putting it in his pocket. “I think now I need to come back and give you this, right?”

“Be careful,” You mumbled, but before you could say anything else, Banner gripped your shoulders.

“We need to get going.” You saw how Bucky walked without even batting an eye at you.

The drive back home was tense; you fidgeted with the hem of your skirt, and you stared at the city fading through your window.

“You’re a tough one.” Banner finally spoke.

“Huh?”

“You look so innocent, so cute in your dresses—I didn’t even trust you for the first two months. Steve asked me to follow you around for two months straight. We were sure that as soon as you learned who he was, you were going to tattletale on him

You hummed, “Well… It’s not like I’m completely fine with what he does, but… I guess… He’s been kind to me, that should count for something, shouldn’t it?"

“You’re tough, and kind.” He pursed his lips and nodded.

The car stopped in front of your building, and he looked at you, “Do all of us a favor, don’t leave your apartment for a minute, he’ll call you as soon as this thing gets handled. Just don’t put yourself in danger while we’re not near. We need him focused… and you’re quite distracting for him.”

“Oh… I’m sorry, but I’ll do so.” You got out of the car and looked at him, “Nice to meet you, Banner.”

“See you later.”

Part Two.