[Sixteen]

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~No POV~

Deanna could've waited until tomorrow, but no, she had to decide that she'll visit some guy in almost the middle of the night. On the other hand, James was never just some guy. And coming here in the dark was by far not her smartest move. While she's keeping track on a few creepy people, she enters the building. Sam told her that Barnes turned off his bell but that the door should be open; he was right. Following the directions he gave her, Dee turns around the corner on the second floor and stops in front of the door. No name or any other sign that someone's living here, like Sam said. Deanna's fist lands on the wooden door, knocking a few times and then sinking back into her leather jacket.

Annoyed, Barnes opens the door, jumper lazily pulled over himself and his right hand in a glove, the complete arm hanging at his side. They both frown, him because of Deanna's pure existence in front of his door, Dee because of his arm. "Deanna? What are you doing here?"

"Hello to you too, James," she forces herself to stop looking at his arm and instead make eye contact. "I'm coming to bring a peace offering?"

He steps aside and motions for her to come in with his head. Confused as why he isn't using his arm, Martinez enters and Barnes closes the door behind me. She watches observantly how he moves through the small flat, taking note of the little mattress like construction next to his couch. Putting two glasses on the kitchen table, he pulls two bottles out of the fridge, holding them up questioningly. Her lips form a grin when she sees his proposal: vodka or water. Lightly shaking her head in disbelief Dee points at the water bottle and watches him storing the vodka back in the freezer. 

"You're not using your left arm like you could," she remarks, earning a questioning glance from him as he fills the glasses. "Did you damage your arm?"

"I'll get it fixed and till then I'll get along. Why are you here again?" He tries to change the topic.

"How about I fix your arm while I tell you?" Deanna can't help the smug grin growing on her face, "You do have tools around, right?"

Bucky sighs but agrees and goes to get his toolbox. Guess it's better to let her try and repair it than having to run around with a damaged arm. Boldly taking one of the glasses, the younger takes a sip and starts making a comfortable workspace. It's not her first time working with arms, and not her first time with that arm in particular either. Eventually the brunet comes back and places the tools on the counter.

Still grinning, she glances at his arm, "Arm on or off, soldier?"

"You know what, Martinez-"

"Off would mean you don't feel it," Deanna cuts him off, her expression changing to a serious one. "Shuri and I thought that would be a good gadget."

He sighs, "I don't know how to take it off."

Standing up, she walks over to him and easily takes off his arm, snatching the tools from the counter as she returns to her seat in the kitchen. As Dee starts to examine the damage, Bucky sits down and watches her closely. Deanna knows what he's thinking without looking into his mind; Why does she know so much about me? Why does she know how to repair my arm?

The woman starts the repairing process and with it the explaining, "I don't hate you, Barnes. If I'd hate you, I wouldn't snap at other's or try to hurt you." He opens his mouth to intervene, but she continues anyway, "A while back you grew on me and when you were free, you didn't call." Focusing on the arm makes talking about it way easier. "See, Hydra sort of kidnapped me when I was fourteen. I had no one, and when they didn't keep me working on someone's metal arm, they experimented on me. Not long after I arrived I sort of stumbled into this room and saw that guy, I thought should anything happen he'd protect me. Then at some point when I was older, Hydra told me to train with said guy, forcing me to wear a mask during it. From time to time, I heard them talking about me being Hydra's fist's sidekick, but I never wanted to be that." Barnes moves a little closer, his mood shifting. He probably knows how it feels like. "I haven't been there nearly as long as you were, but I still felt safe around you. So every time I could sneak off, I did. I sat beside you when I was told to repair your arm, and I sat beside you when I was told to design a new and better one. I read to you, I showed you music I found, and we started to converse during training. You really had me thinking that you took notice of all those little things while you were frozen."

His eyes wander over her figure, Bucky does remember feeling less alone from time to time. If he'd be completely honest with himself, he would also remember jerking off with that masked training partner in mind, one of the last things that made him feel human in there. "That was you," he mumbles. Furrowing his eyebrows, his gaze wanders up to her face again. Hair idly in a high bun and a few strands falling over her shoulder. Lips more kissable than he imagined they looked like under her mask. "We planned to run away together," he continues.

Now Dee lifts her gaze and nods, "We did. But you never came and when I heard that you got wiped again, I..."

"It wasn't your fault. I thought if they focus on me, they wouldn't care about you. A failed experiment less, plus you weren't the only one working on my arm."

"So you did sacrifice yourself for me," she sighs and brings her attention back to the vibranium on the table.

"Because if you would've stayed there, they could've used your existence against me," the brunette tries to explain and reaches out to brush a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Actually just an excuse to be closer to her than reasonable.

Blood flooding her face, Deanna feels her cheeks heating up and her gaze shifts from her work to the blue of his eyes. "I don't hate you," she repeats lowly.

"Then why did you act like you do?" he whispers back, his hand resting on the side of her face.

"Because it hurts," unable to get herself looking back down, "Zemo made me help him decode the files, I left you with Hydra, I wasn't there for you though you made me feel safe."

James' gaze flickers to her lips and back up to her eyes, only to notice that she copies his gesture. "Does it still hurt?"

"Every time I think about it," she breathes out as she leans closer to him.

Now him being the one following her lead, Bucky leans in as well. Their lips almost touch, and her grip on the tool loosens, leading it to fall out of her hand. Rolling over the table, the metal tool with plastic grip makes both of them jump as it lands on the ground.

Both pulling back, Dee stands from her seat, "Carajo!" 

Getting flustered himself, Bucky quickly gets up as well, going to pick up the tool. As he puts it back in her hand, he takes a firm hold of her wrist, "You have every right to be hurt, Deanna. I knew you were there, when I was in cryosleep I mean. I should've tried to reach out to you."

"No," she shakes her head and frees herself from his grip. Embarrassed that he got her flustered so easily. "You probably thought I was dead, and I was in hiding anyway."

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