The Hurt And The Healing: Bucky X OC

Chapter Thirty Four: Manners Maketh Man

After Mara left the men tried to finalize the plan. Every detail that could be accounted for had been, but none of them wanted to step away and admit that there was nothing left to be done. Finally Zemo rose from his seat.

"Come," he ordered, starting to head towards the door. "We have much to do."

Bucky stared at him, not moving a muscle. Zemo exhaled deeply.

"Please," he added begrudgingly. Bucky rose and followed him to a room in the east wing. Inside was a massive walk-in closet with clothing for every occasion. Jewel encrusted watches, expensive glasses, and guns that looked more like artwork than weapons were on display along the walls. An entire rack of fur coats was on one side, and on the other was a carefully hung military dress uniform. An altered tuxedo had been laid out, along with white silk gloves and slick black shoes. Zemo left him standing in the middle of the room and began to rifle through drawers and cabinets.

"You need more than clothes to make the man, James," he explained, continuing to search. "Oeznik has left shaving supplies for you in the bathroom. No employee of mine will have scruff," he said with disdain. Bucky rolled his eyes but proceeded to the bathroom.

As he shaved he practiced how he would stand, how he would move. Hademar Volker was not a soldier. Hademar Volker was a rich man's lackey who had never developed callouses from anything other than writing checks. Which meant that his posture was perfect but not stiff. He didn't scowl, and he certainly didn't cross his arms. In other words, Hademar Volker was nothing like James Barnes.

A variety of grooming products had been set out, and he grabbed a pomade to slick his hair back. When he finished he almost didn't recognize himself. A fresh faced young man with sleek hair stared back at him. Memories of seeing that face over eighty years ago washed over him, but these weren't sad memories. They were memories of Mass every Sunday, of anxiously preening before a dance, of focusing more on making Steve look presentable than he did on himself. Memories of being Bucky Barnes.

He shook himself out of the reminiscing. Bucky Barnes wasn't who he needed to be right now. Hademar Volker resurfaced, arrogant in his own brilliance and sure that he would survive no matter what simply because of who he was. If he faked the confidence in this plan it would come eventually.

He returned to the closet to see Zemo waiting for him. "Here," Zemo handed him a watch and a pair of glasses. "These will go with the tuxedo nicely. You do know how to wear a tuxedo, yes?"

"Yes. I'm not an idiot," Bucky replied, knowing that Zemo would disagree but not caring. "Go away, you will still get a chance to criticize me before Mara and I leave."

Zemo looked at him skeptically but shrugged and left. Bucky quickly dressed himself, muttering about rich people and their ridiculous clothing. It was a good thing that Mara and Shuri had improved his fine motor control, otherwise he never would have been able to fasten all of those buttons. By the time he was fully dressed he looked almost as pretentious as Zemo. The glasses had been a nice touch. They made him look like a- what was that word? Hipster? Whatever it was, Bucky hated it, which meant that it was perfect. He tucked them into his breast pocket and looked himself over one more time. Hademar Volker was ready.

When he came downstairs Nonna, Sam, and Zemo were all waiting.

"So handsome!" Nonna exclaimed, pinching his cheek. He smiled and kissed her forehead, earning himself a playful swat and the fun of seeing Nonna turn bright red.

"Why aren't you helping Mara get ready?" he asked.

"Bah!" Nonna threw her hands into the air. "I try, but she made me leave. Said I was fussing. I never fuss!" she complained as she adjusted the lapels of his jacket and straightened his shirt cuffs.