Secretive - Bucky Barnes

36 || My Personal Peggy Carter

[James]
»How do you feel?« Steve's question is the first thing after a while of pure silence. He entered my flat a few minutes ago, having a key of his own for emergencies, and just stood on my opposite for several moments, speechless.

I, for my part, sit on the couch, head in my hands. »Feels like getting hit by karma, actually.« I respond, but it is much more than that. Or much less, depends on the view. I do not know what to feel; betrayed? Perhaps. She did not tell me about her true identity, about what she had done in the past. Surprised? Definitely. Disappointed? In myself, yes. How could I have been so wrong about her? Am I not trained to see behind the surface? She always seemed so kind and thoughtful and helpful, like everything good in the world concentrated into one delicate masterpiece of a body. Pressured? Now, yes. I have felt the urge to tell her the truth about me for a while now, and with her opening up and revealing her second part, it threatens to choke me. Maybe I should have told her. But would she not be disgusted by me? I cannot imagine girls liking to get told they made out, and more, with someone who crossed the line of a hundred years. With someone who killed Tony Stark's parents. With someone who could harm them, murder them within seconds. When I touch her, she always is so responsive; leaning in, eyes closing in enjoyment like I was the only thing for her in the world. When she told me she lived in my world, right after we had sex for the first time, my heart doubled over, and I could not fall asleep for another thirty minutes just because pure ecstasy about the two words kept me awake. I know it is selfish, but I cannot easily give all that up. Am I not supposed to, at least at one point, find happiness?

Reciprocated feelings never have been that intense. Actually, I never felt for anyone like for her, and to know she is into me just as much, of all people, into me - my mind is blown. It is like it always has been her. Like I waited for her over a fucking century.

»I may not be your therapist, but I'd hoped to get a little more than a single sentence on that.« Steve walks over to me, sitting next to me on the couch. I have been very glad he helped Nova with her injuries, and felt like an idiot not to recognize them beforehand. She is such a good actress, even in front of me. But I do not dare to think her toying with me all along; I cannot. I do not allow it to be true. I could not take the pain. No, she probably simply did not want to heavy the load she thinks she passed onto my shoulders. Thereby, I am the only one pushing me down.

I sigh, rubbing my suddenly heavy face, then resting my lower arms parallel on my upper legs and glancing sideways. »Who would have thought that? She's an assassin. How could I've been so blind?«

»You fool her, too, you know. She's good, and she doesn't recognize it either. I didn't, and if it wasn't for Nat knowing her from Paris, she would never have been thinking her as suspicious at first.«

»Tony knew.« is everything I say, looking to the huge bookshelf on the wall. How Nova loves me to cover her eyes and blindly picking one, just so I can read it to her when she lays in my arms. Warmth spread through my chest, and I cannot help but twitch the corners of my mouth, then shaking my head.

»He probably just didn't want to interfere in your personal relations.« Steve had observed me, and I do not need to wait long for his reaction. »I never saw you so happy, Buck. Not even with that red-head back in the '40s. You really love her, do you?«

»Guess I found my personal Peggy Carter.« He smiles, only slightly, but he does. »I swear though, if you ever try to-«

»No, no, don't even dare to think so. I would not touch her. She's all yours. I just didn't know in the beginning because that dumbass of yours didn't tell me.« His cheeks redden, and he turns his head to hide it.

»Look, pal, I know she's amazing. And she knows that, too. I just wanted to... you know, I saw your reaction when she... yeah, you know what I am talking about.« I do not even want it to relive in my mind. When Steve showed me the video while Nova has been showering, I nearly lost myself. It was impossible not register Steve's blown pupils, how uneasy he balanced his weight on my bed in the Tower, or the little drops of sweat in his hands, barely noticeable if someone does not search for it. I am not stupid. When Steve Rogers likes watching a girl making a show out of a massacre, he really has a thing for her. Even more evident with the fact of his own reaction; the video has been the one of the conference room, while I was passed out behind the mirror. The way he tensed around her, built himself up, made my hands unintentionally clench into fists.