𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨 ➪ 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘹𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘧𝘧 (2)

alt ending

She peers through the dirty window. The outside appearance of the building was definitely an indicator of the inside — run down, peeling paint, and water stains everywhere.

Spencer looks a little harder, and when she doesn't see anything or anyone, she places her hands on the window sill, grips the frame, and tugs it open.

When she isn't immediately shot in the head, Spencer smiles, proud of herself.

She eases one foot inside, and then the other. She cannot believe it was this easy! James must really be losing his touch, she thinks.

When she's on her feet, Spencer is immediately thrown against a wall with brute force.

"Shit!" she shouts, but before she can get away, she's being held against someone's chest, a gun to her head.

Spencer kicks her leg back with all the force she can muster, hitting her attacker in the crotch. He stumbles with a groan, and Spencer ducks and spins out of his hold, grabbing her own gun, and pointing it.

Blue eyes meet hers.

"This is a terrible apartment," Spencer tells him, lowering her gun. James glares at her as her eyes do a little sweep.

"What the hell are you doing here?" James demands, shoving her shoulder as he trudges past her.

"Just dropping in to say hello," she deadpans, turning with him.

"Who else knows I'm here?" James presses his back to her.

"Hello to you too," Spencer mutters, taking a few more steps in the room. She passes by his sorry excuse for a bed, her eyes training the covers. "And no one else knows," she tells him, tossing aside a blanket to find a notebook.

"Stop that," James growls, and Spencer rolls her eyes and picks up the book anyway. "Where's Steve?"

"Not here," Spencer tells him, observing the leatherbound notebook with interest. "Your journal?"

"Give it to me," James grumbles, reaching for it.

Not wanting to fight, Spencer tosses it back on his lame excuse of a bed. James grumbles something and grabs it.

"Steve's got no clue where you are," Spencer tells him, assuringly. "He's kinda... preoccupied at the moment," she admits.

James furrows his eyebrows. His metal hand sits on the wood counter next to what appears to be a broken stove. "What do you mean?"

Spencer stops thinking about his cooking habits. "Haven't you heard? He's busy with the new Super Soldier girl." Her arms cross over her chest.

"Super soldier?" James echoes, staring harder at Spencer.

Spencer's trying not to give the guy a heart attack. "Yeah," she tells him, grabbing the gun off of a HYDRA body. "She's the child of a super soldier, mutant, too — how do you work this again?"

He pulls back on the safety — a weird mechanism Spencer remembers hazily.

"She's not mine, right?"

"No, no! Steve's kid," Spencer mumbles to him, grabbing some extra ammunition. Her eyes peer back over at him. "Why? Is it possible you have a kid too?"

Bucky doesn't reply to this. Or, Spencer doesn't give him the time — she really, really doesn't want to know about it. Sure, she likes Elenora and all — Peter's finally asking her on a date this week — but the last thing anyone needs is another war criminal baby running around.