Library for Tiku

He had been gone too long.

Too many new faces.

At least he still had Jack with him. That never changed. He was still getting used to the compound. “Fuck this,” he growled digging out his pack and pulling on a cigarette, shoving it between his lips.

It hadn't taken him long before he found his familiar hidden spot. It had taken him long enough the first time around to find a place in this huge compound that wasn't covered by a fucking camera. Not that it matters if they knew he smoked. They knew, he just would rather cut down on hearing them bitch about it.

It wasn't until he took the initial drag that he felt the other presence. He hadn't really given a fuck. Just stormed out here, let the door slam behind him in his rush to get to relief. He stepped back, pivoting on one foot.

He had seen you around, before he had been sent out on missions. A bit frumpy, hair a little messy. But he had never seen you like this.

“Cryin?”

It hurt.

To see you once more.

He hadn't thought it would. It was simple. The words had been simple enough.

“I cannot promise you a future,” he had told you.

It was the truth.

There had been no hate or venom behind his words, but he had known it would change things.

Things.

He huffed.

There had been nothing there.

Nothing.

He nodded resolutely.

But there was the absence of you.

Somehow he had become aware of your presence in the room without looking. Was it the way your skirts swished in the quiet of the offices? Or the way you always smiled and greeted everyone so readily?

He hated that about you.

You were too kind to everyone.

You even included him in that kindness.

Look at what that got you.

There had been nothing between you.

Nothing.

Then why did he miss the way his knuckles brushed against yours? The nothing between the two of you when you stood close, your shoulder nearly touching his. How you handed him coffee instead of the alcohol he would serve himself. He drank it, cinnamon and creamer, too sweet like you. He couldn't stand it…

He watched you smile and move between the SHIELD agents. You didn't belong to him. It was work.

Then why did he miss the nothing?

Why did his gaze follow you through the office?

“I cannot promise you a future.”

He recalled the way your breath halted. Your eyes widening slightly as your bottom lip trembled before you blinked. It happened so quickly had he not been witness to it he would not believe it himself.

“Of course” you nodded, voice clipped. “I understand that, you told me, you have a wife and son.”

You knew.

He had never made a promise to you.

He had merely swept your errant hair back into place. Thumb brushing along your cheek briefly. He had never handed you a cinnamon flavored coffee. He hadn't stepped in front of you to block you from large crowds. It made you uncomfortable, your voice shifted slightly higher, your hands trembled when the men crowded around you.

“I know they are nice… it's just, it takes a minute is all. I'm okay,” you had explained with a smile.

He had to tell them information. If it gave you a moment to adjust to their presence… then that was a byproduct.

Why did his gaze follow you?

There had been nothing.

You had vacation days after he told you. It had been planned out already. It couldn't have been…

His steady gaze caught yours and he realized he had been waiting. Your smile was automatic, it didn't quite reach your eyes. You looked away and the moment was gone.

“I think she got dumped.”

Helmut looked over at Wilson, the man leaning against the closest desk. He made no noise, Helmut did not respond.

“Right before her vacation too,” Sam sucked his teeth, watching you. “She was crying–”

“Crying?” He fought the urge to look at the captain. He had not seen that.

Sam sighed heavily. “Mm, loser. She deserves better. Someone… someone that understands her in the quiet.”

Helmut led at him then, Wilson had a way of surprising him at times. More receptive than he gave him credit. “And you know of such a man?”

Sam held his hands up and chuckled, shaking his head briefly, “she's just a friend man.” He cost his arms over his chest and looked back at you thoughtfully, "I just didn't know she was seeing someone, it seems like the guy was a ghost…”

“Undeserving,” Helmut muttered before he could stop himself.

Sam looked at him then, he forgot how perceptive the man was until he rested that gaze on him. “I think… I think she would forgive him though, if he grew a pair. What do I know?” He chuckled, pushing away from the desk and shaking his head. And the broad smile was in place again, “otherwise I'm pretty sure there are other soldiers ready and willing to step in.”

Zemo watched as you turned, tipping your head back to smile politely at Steve and Bucky.

Other soldiers…

He turned to find himself standing alone.

Had he…?

You jolted.

Steve and Bucky were so kind, it was easier to talk with them than the rambunctious younger agents, but it still startled you when a hand wrapped around your wrist. You had gotten too comfortable, becoming dependent on him being there to act as a shield.

“I cannot promise you a future.”

It had felt like a slap.

Your heart had sunk into your stomach.

You had overstepped. At some point you had leaned into his presence without realizing it and that had been the consequences. It had been frustrating, infuriating. You knew better, there was no one that would choose you.

Odd awkward you.

Always patiently waiting to be let in.

Waiting for someone to understand you.

Somehow you had thought he had. It had felt as if he walked right beside you.

But you had been wrong. Like so many times before.

You turned surprised, feeling a gloved hand close around your wrist. “Zemo!”

Zemo.

Not Helmut.

Zemo.

He hated it.

You paled, attempting to take a step back and looking down at where his hand was solidly still holding you in place. You made a small noise, it caught in the back of your throat. “Zemo?”

“Helmut,” he corrected.

You looked back over your shoulder at the two soldiers who had been speaking a moment ago and offered them a smile and a small lift of your shoulders. Toy had no warning, stumbling as he pulled you after him without a word. You dug your heels into the floor, panic flooding you before he looked back at you. “What-?!”

What is the meaning of this?

What do you want?

What do you think you are doing?

You had no way to speak, throat closing and eyes stinging.

“I cannot promise you a future”

It had hurt.

It had hurt deeply.

But it was what you deserved. For forgetting yourself. For overstepping. For becoming too comfortable.

Thankfully you had put in for vacation.

You had thought to ask him to join you for coffee, perhaps brunch? The thought has made your heart skip and had you smiling to yourself.

But he had known it seemed.

If anything you could count on him to correct you.

You pulled at your wrist, not that you could win against his strength, “I'm sorry!” You whispered as quietly as you could. You didn't need others to hear of your mistake. You had been careful. Avoided this area of the building. Too give him space, to be respectful, you had been too daring.

“Excuse me?!” His voice was low but sharp.

You couldn't look at him. Oh, gods you shouldn't have come here. You had wanted a glimpse, hadn't expected the others to call you over. This of course had been a mistake, such a stupid mistake, and he had seen rift through it. Perhaps you would take the job Stall had offered? “Please,” you tugged at your wrist, “I'm sorry Zemo, I-I promise it won't happen again!” You hated this feeling.

There had been nothing.

Nothing.

He had been nothing but kind.

You had taken his kindness incorrectly.

Such a stupid mistake.

You felt the tears fall against your will. “Zemo…” your voice broke. Had you not made enough of a fool of yourself? An idiot. You couldn't look at the others, your face burned from embarrassment. Hadn't you cried enough?

“Helmut,” he corrected again.

You cried out as he pulled you behind him without forgiveness. It felt as if lightning raced up along your arm from where his hand was locked around your wrist. A door shut and you faintly realized he had pulled you into an office. You darted away the moment his grip loosened.

You must hate him, he thought as you hurried to place the desk between the two of you. “Y/N,” he started.

“I know…” You interrupted.

“Do you?!” He demanded. Was he so transparent? He had made a mistake, hadn't wanted to burden you with his problems.

You looked at the door, attempting to assess. He stood between you and it. He could stop you if he wanted. “It was my mistake, I'm sorry.” He stared down at you, unmoving. “You won't see me again, I promise. You made it clear, I overstepped, it was unprofessional of me and it will not happen again. I am truly sorry for my crush, for taking advantage of your kindness. Thank you,” the two words stuck, “thank you for being so kind to me!”

You offered him a smile, as bright as you could conjure, he had been too kind. Even now, with tears falling he let you speak when he should be cursing the fact that you had the audacity to show your face here again.

You felt the flush and heat of embarrassment run through you as you delivered the apology, but it was true and sincere. You had made him uncomfortable. Taking the offered job would assure that you were out of state, so there would be no chance of you coming upon him.

He didn't speak.

You swallowed.

Now. He wouldn't stop you.

You took a step around the desk, eyes set on the door. He didn't move as you walked past him. There. At least you had set it right.

“Were you involved?”

You stopped, barely reaching for the doorknob. “Uhhh?”

“Was there… Wilson said you were dumped.”

A little sob rushed up. “No,” you choked out. There had been no one, you had focused on him, thought… what was Sam talking about?!

“The soldiers?”

You turned, anger sparking, “WHAT?!” Did he think you were easy? Soldiers?! He must think the worst of you to think you would just go lay with multiple men!!

He turned to look at you, the expression on your face – one he had never seen before. Huh… tears had stained your cheeks.

Fine, let him think whatever he wanted of you. You had been disrespectful, he was a widow and there was no chance of him and you… “excuse me,” you bit out.

You were exhausted.

You wanted to crawl into bed and take another week to recover from this. You cried out, shocked when his large body pressed into yours from behind, the door clattering shut before you could get it fully open.

“Don't.”

You shook. Uncertain of your feelings. “Let me out.”

“No.”

You growled, frustrated. “Can you not see that I am falling apart?! Please! Let me have a shred of dignity!”

“No.”

The denial was the last straw. You had attempted at being respectful, to leave in silence. Given him the apology. What more could he want??

“I made the mistake.”

You shoved at him. Pushing back in anger, what was he saying?

“You deserve better, I am unkind and selfish. I do not understand how you could look in my direction much less want more from me.”

“That's a shitty apology,” you answered.

He smiled, you could curse. And suddenly he wanted more. He wanted more cinnamon coffee with too much creamer. Wanted your smile directed only at him. He wanted to hold your hand and to see how unruly your hair could get.

“Don't leave.”

You pressed your hands to the door, resting your forehead against it. Exhaustion beating at you, it was too much. You needed time to process.

“I will wait, but do not leave. Choose me.” Your shoulders shook, he could feel the exhaustion rolling off of you. “If you will, I promise…” You tensed, “I promise I will enjoy making plans with you.”

You nodded, relief sweeping through you. You could figure it out later. He wrapped an arm around your waist and you didn't jump at his touch. Letting him pull you to the closest seat and sitting beside you.

“Let me go at your pace,” he offered, “but chose me.”

How had it come to this? You nodded, confused, staring at how he held your hand in his. “Take your gloves off.” He looked surprised at the request but was quick to remove them. You hesitated before slipping your hand into his once again. You watched color appear in the top of his ears and thought it cute.

“Then, perhaps brunch?”

He nodded quickly.

Your pace? He claimed to be selfish.. could you be? “Come closer…” his brows furrowed but he leaned in and you moved before you could second guess yourself.

It was too little, the press of your lips to his cheek. He reached up and caught your jaw in hand, pulling you to him and pressing a proper kiss to your lips. So soft, as he had imagined, he gathered you closer. He had warned you, told you he was selfish and he wanted more.

You sighed, letting him pull you closer, his kisses were demanding as if he couldn't get enough. It was dizzying.

He pulled back before he took too much. “Brunch.”

You nodded, catching your breath, “brunch.”

“You…bake?”

His eyes widened slightly as you stood in the doorway.

His. Him. He. Bucky. Bucky Steve's friend. Steve who was your roommate. Steve's Bucky.

Finally he nodded sharply, awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot. “Yee–” the word cut off and he looked away.

“Last week,” he started.

Last week… he had been witness to your disappointment when you found out you had been shorted several brownies from a package you had bought at the first bakery you had gone to. To be fair, it had been the first time you had walked into the place, and looking back at it you should have known. Plus the reviews had been awful when you had actually looked it up.

But it had been too late, you had vowed to never step in the place again.

“The brownies were shit anyway,” you sighed, gripping the tupper in your hands. You dropped your head to the side and closed your eyes, slightly irritated at the memory. You bit back a groan and sighed looking up at him. “But you baked me brownies?”

Bucky looked around, “is Steve here?”

You reached out and dragged him in before he could back pedal. You supposed you caught him by surprise since it was easy enough to do. “No, you bake. Not only do you bake, but you made some for me?”

Bucky let you lead him to the couch, careful to keep from resisting, much as he might like to sink onto the flooring. Where was Steve? He said he would be here to make this easier, he was supposed to be there to offer you some, act like a buffer… “uhhh–"

“You don't seem the type to bake,” you poked his shoulder. “You seem like the type to hit the gym everyday.”

“Its easier to pack protein in if you pack them into baked goods, makes it easier to swallow.”

You hummed, having taken a seat beside him. Using your thumbs you popped the lid off and your mouth watered. “Oh! You BAKE!” the sweet smell of decadent chocolate hit and you nearly swooned. You eyed him, openly studying him. You had stolen glances at him when he came over to visit, and you had admired the muscles and the way his jaw was perfect.

You shook your head, looking down at the carefully packed tupper, “you really didn't have to do this…”

Bucky remembered the way you had wailed at Steve, nearly throwing yourself dramatically across the couch as you bemoaned your woes of being shorted brownies from your package. It's why he liked you, you didn't shy away from being yourself. “I could take them to Wanda if you don't want them?” He offered as you stuffed one into your mouth, he didn't even bother hiding his smirk as you closed your eyes and stilled. “Guess that's a no..?”

You looked over at him, “if you try to pry these from my hands I will have to end your life.”

You watched as he snorted, eyes closing as it turned into a laugh, awe struck at how beautiful a man could be. “Wow…”

Bucky looked at you, “what?”

“I just didn't know you could make that face with someone other than Steve.”

“You could probably get me to make different kinds of faces,” Bucky responded before he could stop himself.

You turned your head to stare at him, surprised at what he had uttered, watching as pink colored his cheeks and it quickly turned to red, a smirk slipping into place. “Can I?!” You asked in a teasing tone.

Bucky groaned, quickly reaching for the container in your hands, “give those back if your going to tease me!”

You screamed, stretching away as an arm wrapped around your waist, “AAAHHHHH!! NOOOOoooOooO!!!” You shoved another decadent brownie into your mouth, growling as menacingly as possible, Bucky's laughter rumbling against you as he slanted his entire body along yours in a feigned attempt at swiping the brownies back from you.

“Wanda will definitely appreciate these more than you–”

“She doesn't NEED them!!” You cried, kicking in a failed attempt to keep him away. Time to change tactics– you tucked the container under you and did your damndest to turn into a ball.

Bucky sputtered, choking back his laugh when you turned your head to yell at him, your face colliding into his.

Steve nearly dropped his bags of groceries when he heard his roommates' piercing scream. He had heard your shrieks of laughter, but he froze when he opened the door to his apartment and found you and Bucky on the couch.

He stepped back quickly and shut the door, face ablaze.

“The point is to WEAR a costume-”

“I am.”

You nearly snarled at him, “Brock, you are in uniform. Just wearing your tactical gear is not a costume,” you argue, as you notice Bucky come to a stop.

“Tell that to those men on your phone,” Brock shoots back with a smug tone.

You feel your face heat and Bucky snickers, both men knowing your addiction to COD cosplayers. “I am not dressing up then, you're so dumb!”

Bucky held up his hands, “Now now, no need to be hasty, I was sure you'd like Rumlows costume,” he pointed at the man, “show her properly,” he demanded.

Brock rolled his eyes and grabbed you by the wrists dragging you into him, you leaned back with a small exclamation surprised, but froze when you felt sharp fangs drag along your neck.

“W-wa-wait…” You gasped, dizzy as Brock followed his nipping with a stroke of his tongue.

“Say you like it,” Brock growled against your skin.

“I like it!” You managed, softening like butter in his hold.

Bucky caught your chin in his hand, making you look at him, “now, no more arguing, go get your costume on so we can get going”

Brock sighed and let you go, eyeing Bucky as you teetered towards the bedroom, “the fuck you dressed as?”

Bucky grinned, slipping a pair of black ears on, “a black cat.”

“Shut the fuck up..”

“Want to switch?” Bucky asked with a shit eating grin.

Brock grumbled, “you lick I bite?”