#mail order

When you come to, unable to make yourself sink back into sleep, you're not alone. You give a start as you look up and find that man staring at you. He's no longer a hazy shadow but a very real and solid figure.

His blue eyes widen as they meet yours and he flicks back a shank of dark hair behind his ear. He clears his throat and you watch how it bobs nervously. You blink up at him as he stands behind the couch, his hand nervously clutching the back.

Your gaze lingers on his fingers. Your brows furrow and you wince at the effort. He looks down then hides his metal hand. You lift your eyes again.

“I know you…” you rasp.

"Um…" he gulps. “I'm Bucky."

“Winter soldier…" you mutter in recollection and let your head loll to the side.

“I prefer Bucky," he insists. “Hey," he comes around the couch. “How are you feeling?"

You stare past him as he stands in front of you. He touches your head and you flinch. He retracts his hand.

“Look, I didn't know they were gonna… be like that.”

You cough and groan. “What? You…” your voice fizzles out. You're too weak.

"You're looking better,” he drawls. "Are you hungry at all?"

You don't answer him. You just stare. You're confused. Not only is he supposed to be a hero but he's acting like he really is a good guy. He just can't be after what you went through.

He waits for a moment but when you don't reply, he backs up. He marches away. You roll onto your side and sigh. This is so strange. Why like this? Why, at all?

You hear him in the next room. There's beeping, more tapping, the restless pacing. The drone of a microwave fills the air and another, more final beep, ends it.

You smell the food before he enters. You still don't move. He comes over and sets the dish down.

“Reheated some Alfredo I ordered," he explains. “Hopefully it's not too much."

He bends over you and grabs your shoulders. He turns you and sits you up against the armrest. You whine softly.

“Woah, I hurt you?" He asks.

His thumbs stroke your shoulders and he drags his hands down your arms before letting you go completely. You shiver.

“Sore…" you croak. “...from being in a box."

He sighs. “Like I said…I didn't expect that."

You want to ask what exactly he was expecting? Your eyelids are all fuzzy. You drag your hands into your lap and slump.

He pulls up a leather Ottoman and sits on it. He takes the plate of pasta and pokes at it with the fork.

“You should eat. Get some strength back," he girds.

For what? Why do you need to get your strength up? Why are you there?

He scoops up some of the twisted noodles and hovers it in front of your mouth. You don't react. He exhales loudly.

“Look, I didn't want you to get hurt."

“How do you even… know me?" You rub your arms, trying to soothe yourself as your nerves spin.

“Mm, not you in…particular. I just wanted… someone.”

"Someone?” You echo thinly then drop your head into your hands.

"You okay?" He puts the fork down. He shifts closer and touches your arm. You wince. “Maybe… a hot bath?” His hand crawls up your neck. "Doll, tell me what you need?"

“Why is this happening?" You eke out.

"What?” He sounds genuinely surprised. “I… I'm gonna take care of you.”

"You let them… put me in a box," you hiss, shaking as you rub your temples.

“No, I didn't tell them to do that."

“But they did… because of you."

“But… no. I wouldn't do that.”

"Stop,” you wave him off. "Please…” you sniffle as your eyes burn. "I want to go home."

He huffs and gets up from the Ottoman. He moves to sit on the edge of the couch. He grips your shoulders and pushes you back until you lift your head. Your tears roll down your cheeks.

“This is home." He grits.

You pout, “what?"

“This is your home now. I paid–“ he stops himself. "I'm helping you.”

" Wh-what?” You blubber. "No…”

"I am,” his voice is low as he squeezes your shoulders. "So just calm down.” He slides his hands down your arms, "I just want someone…"

His eyes trail down and a cold wash flows over you. His gaze clings to your chest as it shakes with unspent sobs and his hands fall onto your thighs. You flinch and press yourself against the armrest.

“There's more than I… expected,” he kneads your thighs. "You're soft…"

You slap your hands on his and whine. “Please…”

"I'm gonna be good to you," he dips his fingertips into your cushiony thighs. “I just wanna be… with you.”

"Please, you're scaring me." You whimper.

His hands tense and he rips them away. You clasp yours together before your chest and cower. His blue eyes spark and he grimaces.

“I'm not scary. I'm not… I wouldn't hurt you.” He sneers.

You lean into the couch and curl your shoulders in. “But… you brought me here.”

“To help you!” He throws his hands up and stands. “I just want to… to…” he stomps around then stops sharply.

He looks at you and sways. He puts one foot forward. His eyes dilate and he tilts his head. He marches toward you and you cry out. He stops right before he can get to you, his metal arm extended towards your throat.

He exhales through his nose and his brows twitch. The tension slowly eases from his jaw. He nods and backs up.