Bucky Barnes: Enemies to lovers

Chapter 3: Questions

Y/ns pov:

The warm Ray's of sun crept through the blinds, creating an array of yellowed lines across the room. Peaking my eyes open just a little, I slowly began to wake up. There were no strict rules here, no Steve nor Nat waking me up at 7am to train. I would have stayed in bed longer if it weren't for the smell of pancakes wafting through the house.

Swinging my legs off the bed, I decided to get dressed before heading downstairs. Quickly pulling on some black sports leggings and my Captain America hoody I got from the Smithsonian gift shop.

I quickly skipped down the stairs, eager to make my way into the kitchen. Rounding the corner, appearing in the room, I found Bucky at the stove cooking pancakes. I thought it best not to announce my presence just yet, and watch him work. Leaning on the door frame, crossing my arms, my eyes began to scan his body. He was wearing black joggers matched with a black, tight, t-shirt that highlighted the muscles on his back. I got a little carried away, zoning out slightly as I watched him move, when out of nowhere he said.

"It's rude to stare." Reciting my words from the night before, causing me to roll my eyes.
"Cute apron." I shot back, gesturing to the apron he had tied around his waist with narrowed eyes.
"I don't know how long we're here for, I dont want to get my clothes dirty." He replied almost embarrassed.
"We have a washing machine." I mocked, causing him to turn around and look at the square machine in the corner of the room before removing the apron.

He began evenly putting the pancakes onto two separate plates, before setting one down in front of me.
"You made me breakfast?" I asked surprised.
"It may shock you to find out I'm not actually the worst person in the world." He replied, quoting me yet again.
"Plus you made me dinner, now we're even." He added, me nodding in response.

We ate in silence, still awkward and cold as it usually was. I found myself scanning his face, memorising the small scar on his cheek and the dent in his nose. My gaze made its way to his eyes, hoping to analyse their colour, but I found he was already looking back.
"You got a problem y/l/n?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Nope." I shook my head, popping the 'p' slightly.
"You having a little trouble with rule number 4?" He smirked. My eyes went a little wide, before returning back to their usual death stare.
"In your dreams Barnes."

We finished our food, him taking my plate and putting it in the sink for me. He was about to leave, but I didn't want to be left alone yet.

"Hey Buck wait." I called out, causing him to turn back around and look at me with a puzzled face.
"We're gonna be here for a while, we may as well get to know each other a little better." I shrugged.

He thought about it for a moment before shrugging and sitting back across from me.
"So what do we do?" He asked
"I don't know, ask each other questions?" I asked
"Sure, you go first." He nodded, but obviously not exactly pleased about this.
"Ok, what's your favourite colour?"
"Wow, deep." He rolled his eyes.
"Answer the question Barnes."
"Fine, Red, you?"
"Dark green, your turn."
"Dog or cat?" He asked.
"Dog, let me guess, you're a cat person."
"Yeah, I should've guessed you'd be a dog person."
"Do you forgive me?" I said suddenly, I didn't even realise I had said it until it was too late. My eyes went wide as the words sunk in while Bucky physically tensed.
"No." He said simply before getting up and walking away. I sighed, fed up if this fude.
"Barnes!" I shouted after him, him stopping in his tracks, looking back at me.
"I'm sick of this, I hate never talking to you and we're going to be stuck here for God knows how long, so let's sort this, come on let's talk about it." I said, slightly angry.
"Why should I? Why would I waste my time trying to solve the unsolvable?"
"Because I've already got enough reminding me of that place, I dont want someone I've got to see every day of my life to be another negative reminder." I admitted.

There was a long pause, both of us not wanting to be the one to break the silence.
"I don't forgive you." He paused
"But I don't blame you." He admitted, before turning back around and heading up to his room, shutting his door behind him.

I wanted desperately to follow him, to make amends, but then I remembered that he did unspeakable things to me too. It goes both way, he hates me, and I hate him. And it will always be that way.

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