New Old Love『BuckyxOC』

[Two]

"John Walker, first person in American history to receive three Medals of Honour, ran RS-One missions in counterterrorism and hostage rescue."

~Deanna's POV~
(two days later, back in Atlanta)

"Listen, Dee-," Joaquin starts from the other end of the phone.

"Joaquin, I love you, but that's not happening. I just came back! I can't leave again. It's not like I work for you."

Pepper smiles at me. "Deanna, you should go. We'll be alright."

"One good reason, Torres. Give me one good reason," I tilt my head to the right and raise my brow, silently asking if that's enough for Pep. She nods and places a plate with food in front of me.

Joaquin sighs and lowers his voice. "Sam thinks there's more behind it. He doesn't say it out loud, but you saw his face. The more strength the team has, the better. We need you, Dee."

For a moment I think about it, then I shake my head. "No. How should I explain that to Morgan? I'm not going."

-

"How the fuck did you get me to do this? Why did I agree to this? Would you remind me again?" I get out of the car and follow Joaquin into the building, tightly holding onto my bag.

"Your boss assigned you the mission, Dee. You're getting paid for this," he answers politely, not wanting to get on my bad side.

I grind my teeth and follow him through the building. At least we're still in the states and Morgan can reach me any time. My hold on the strap from the bag loosens and after some time I slip my hands into the pockets from my leather jacket. Without a hair tie, my brown hair falls over my shoulders; Morgan tried to comb it, but it's a wild mane as always. A few men whistle as we walk by, sadly nothing I'm not used to.

But when I hear a "Shake that ass for me, Mami!" I lose it.

Turning on my heel, I grab the guy by his hair, pull him away from the railing he's leaning against and force his head down. He grunts and wraps his hand around my wrist, trying to free himself. Yeah, I don't think so. Giving him the impression that it's working, I let him get his head up, only to force it down with a jolt, throwing my knee up to meet his face halfway.

"She has a bad day, man. I would apologize," Quin leans against a wall, watching the situation.

"I'm sorry," the guy states with a trembling voice.

I pull his head back up, his face now only inches away from mine. With cold eyes, I watch the expression in his. "No, you're afraid. Not a glimpse of regret for your sexual harassment. But what did I expect from a coward like you? Calling yourself a soldier without having respect for women. You're a sad human being. If I ever hear you talk to a woman like that again, you won't be able to fight nor talk any more. Clear?"

He quickly nods and I let him go. Then I turn back to Quin and smile. "Not gonna lie, that felt good. The next one is crouching on the ground."

Joaquin looks me up and down, a little bit of pride in his eyes, before he leads me to the meeting point. A poster of John Walker hangs on the pillar, I stop in front of it and lightly shake my head.

"Seems like a good guy," my friend notices how I look at the poster. "You met him?"

"Nope. He's gonna be a pain in the ass tho; I worked on his uniform and he didn't show up once," shaking my head again, this time more obvious, I turn around to face Quin.

"Thanks for doing this on such short notice again, Dee."

"Not like I had a-," my gaze focuses on the guy coming in through the open gate. "Hijo de puta!" Now Quin turns around too. "What is that pendejo doing here?!"
(Son of a bitch! / asshole)

Almost instantly, Joaquin throws his hands up in defence. "Sam asked him!"

"No!" I exclaim, my accent coming through like it always does.

Turning around to leave, I bump into Sam. "Whoa, Dee." He grins, but that quickly changes when he sees the angry frown on my face. "What is it? Did Torres say something?"

"No, Quin didn't! Tú tampoco!"
(You neither!)

Sam sighs. "Why don't you explain to us what's bothering you?"

"Bothering me? Ese cabrón me está molestando!" I cross my arms in front of my chest.
(That dick is bothering me!)

Confused, Torres looks at Sam, not understanding a word, while the man in the background scoffs. "Deanna, I don't speak Spanish?"

"No me importa," every goddamn time I'm upset, I keep switching to Spanish. Fucking Venezuelan roots and fuck it that I was raised in Spanish. "No voy a trabajar con ese imbécil."
(I don't care. I'm not going to work with that jerk.)

"Normally I love listening to your Spanish, but right now I need you to speak English, Deanna. What's the problem?" As he speaks, Sam gently places his hands on my arms.

I shake my head and scoff before I answer, this time keeping it friendly. "I only work with people I trust. That guy? I don't know him personally," a big ass lie, "but I read the news about him. The Winter Soldier is nobody I want to work with. What do you think why I never worked with Tony? Or directly for S.H.I.E.L.D.? I'm not going to risk my life with that kind of teammate."

"Bucky is trustworthy, Dee. I worked with him, hell, I risked my life for him. He's a pain in the ass, but he's good and a super soldier. We need him and we need you."

"No, Sam," I turn sideways and point at the poster. "He's a pain in the ass. El," now I point at the super soldier, "puede ir al infierno."
(He can go to hell.)

Birdie turns me back to him and makes eye contact with me. "Deanna, can you do me the favour and trust him for the mission?"

"Confiar en él? Oh yeah, I bet that worked fine for everyone else that met him fifteen years ago. Let me just ask them real quick," I take out my phone from my pocket as if I would really try to call someone, then I look back up and Sam dead in the eyes. "Oh, right, they're dead."
(Trust him?)

Now the Winter Soldier himself joins the conversation. "Sam, we don't need her, and we're running out of time."