Never Go To A Stark Party

Chapter 25

Bucky woke up in a bed that was much too soft for him and with a slight pain on the side of his head.

Eyes still closed, his fingertips brushed along the cotton fabric of the blanket beneath him, and for a few moments he didn't remember the conversations he had hours ago.

But all good things must come to an end, and that proved true when the memories came back in a sudden influx. His eyes shot open and he sat up.

Where the fuck was he?

His gray eyes searched the room with the hope that he'd recognize something, anything, but that hope was soon replaced with dejection; he didn't recognize a single thing. And that fact alone sent him into an alert panic.

It wasn't like Steve or Nat would leave him somewhere he would be in danger, but what if it wasn't them who left him there? He didn't know how long he'd been passed out, but last time he was awake he'd heard shit was going down—for all he knew, someone, maybe even something, could have ambushed Steve and Nat and kidnapped him.

It wouldn't be too far-fetched. Despite being pardoned by the government, he had done terrible things, things that he couldn't atone for even if he tried his whole life. Maybe someone he had hurt had found him.

...The thought sent him climbing off the bed and tiptoeing to the bedroom door. Well, regardless of who had brought him here, he wasn't going to let them get the jump on him. Sure, he was a little rusty, but he'd been an assassin longer than he'd been an ordinary civilian—he would, at the very least, be able to sneak around silently.

He reached the bedroom door, and with a baited, silent breath, he pressed his ear against the thin wood and listened.

...
....
.....
.....!

Someone was coming!

Bucky quickly shot back from the door and frantically searched for something to arm himself with. His eyes spotted the lamp next to his bedside, and without much thought, he grabbed onto it and wielded it like he'd wield a gun—wow, he was really rusty.

Just as the door opened, he fixed his hold on the object and prepared himself to swing.

"Are you awake ye—hey, hey!" Clint yelled, alarm in his voice as he unintentionally dropped a plate of food as he backed up.

"Clint?!" Bucky half-yelled, dropping his weapon.

"Yes?!" Clint yelled back, alarmed and not quite ready to fight back. It'd been a while since he last had to, so if Bucky hadn't snapped out of his kill or be killed mode, the archer was a little weary about whether or not he would've been able to protect himself.

"God," the brunette sighed out in relief, "I thought you were a murderer or something."

"Yeah.." Clint sighed out a nervous chuckle. "Me too." Quickly, however, he smiled apologetically when Bucky shot him a look, one that clearly said 'Watch your mouth'. His eyes moved to the broken plate on the floor and he leaned down to begin picking at the mess. Bucky moved to help him.

"So why am I here?" Bucky began as he helped the blonde man pick up the mess he helped make. It was the least he could do.

Clint was silent for a few moments, and as he picked the trash up, he pondered over how he should tell
Bucky, if he should tell Bucky. He picked a piece of glass up and stared at it in silence.

Well...

It wasn't like he'd be able to hide the truth for very long, especially with the way current events were going. So, sighing softly, Clint reluctantly looked up at Bucky and smiled, the action forced.