Back to Barnes // the winter soldier

7: i always will

    It was Steve's birthday, otherwise known as Independence Day in the US, and the day I spent seven hours working on the designs for the cells in the new SHIELD base. I was exhausted and drained after not eating all day and non-stop conversing with countless people, leaving me half-awake and stumbling barefoot into the captive's cell with a loopy smile on my face.

"How are you?" I asked breathlessly, leaning up against the glass.

His eyebrows knit together in worry as he stood up from the bench in the back. "Are you okay?"

I exhaled, shaking my head as my smile drooped. "Nah."

Next thing I knew he was standing between me and the glass wall. He held me up by my upper arm, but that didn't help much. I stumbled back with an unclear mumble. He sighed and wrapped his bionic arm around my back.

"Agent Brookes," He studied me carefully. "what's wrong?"

I didn't answer. He was really close. My head dropped to his shoulder and I winced as my forehead hit the metal. He tried to support me and accidentally slipped his left hand under my shirt and onto the small of my back.

I inhaled sharply, becoming slightly more alert. "Good heavens, Winter, you're 98. Put that cold hand back where it belongs."

He couldn't help but crack a smile at that. "I'm just trying to help."

"Being a predator is not helping me." I huffed, my forehead back on his shoulder.

The captive helped me over to the bench where I clumsily thumped down, my upper body still latched to him.

"How was your day?" He cleared his throat after the awkward question. He was just trying to get me to talk. He was either 1.) starved for conversation or 2.) genuinely interested. At that point, it could have been either one.

"Long," I mumbled, lacing my arms around his neck. "Ugh, you're comfortable, Winter."

"What did you do?" He ignored my delusional mumbling.

"Designed ... blueprints ... for stuff ... The um, new base ..." I breathed out, closing my eyes and slumping forward. This was unprofessional but dammit I was tired, and dammit he was softer than he looked.

"What were you designing?" He began to squirm, uncomfortable with how close I was. I couldn't tell if it was fear of hurting me, fear of getting close to someone he didn't really know, or fear of me in general.

"The new cells," I yawned.

He fell quiet.

"Will I be put in one?" He questioned.

I sat up straight, letting go of him. "Maybe. Why?"

"Make it comfortable." He smiled slightly.

I placed a hand on his cheek and nodded. "I promise ... I also promised music. Still-" Yawn. "up for it?"

He gingerly took my hand from his cheek and placed it in my lap. He nodded. "Sure, just don't fall asleep on me."

"Like literally? But you're comfortable." I faux pouted, taking my phone and earbuds from my back pocket. I helped him place his earbud then put my own in. The first song came on, Poison and Wine by the Civil Wars, and I watched his downcast eyes intently.

     You only know what I want you to, I know everything you don't want you want me to.

"Agent Brookes," He looked up at me, then slightly jolted in shock when I was already looking at him. "You're different."

"Is that bad?" I asked, fighting to keep my eyes open.

He pursed his lips, eyes returning to his knee or the floor beyond it. He huffed and held his hand out. I squinted questioningly but took it. He stood up and I followed. I placed the phone in my pocket before he incredibly daintily placed his bionic hand on the small on my back. And we slow-danced. He was better than he was the last time. He'd done this before his life went to shit and he was remembering.