The Shadow [a marvel fanfiction]

Civil War: Chapter Seven

Day gave way to night and the warehouse grew colder in the waning twilight hours. Sam and Steve somehow managed to put a team together. Marie didn't care to ask how exactly they contacted them or who they were, she had her own bets on who their teammates would be. Instead, she had collapsed on her makeshift bed and finally passed out, only to be dragged out of her slumber by her growling stomach.

Marie forced her eyes open and rolled onto her back. Fatigue still weighed down her body, muscles and joints protesting her motion and begging her to lay there forever. She sighed and blinked slowly, heavily. Maybe she could sleep a little longer; she wasn't that hungry.

"Sleeping beauty, you awake yet?"

Marie groaned, squinting at the man standing over her. "So loud."

"I'm loud?" Sam snorted and hauled her up. "Your stomach's been roaring for two hours now. It's creating an echo."

Marie laughed and blinked the colorful spots away. She swayed on her feet and waited for her head to adjust. The warehouse was darker now, with the only light coming from the yellow streetlamps outside. She followed Sam to the small seating area (composed of cinderblocks and wood pallets) where Steve and Bucky sat. The awkward silence was nearly palpable.

"So, dinner?" Marie asked. She let down her hair and shook it out, eyes glancing at Bucky's stoic expression from where he sat away from them; close enough to be included but far enough not to be.

It was a bitter pill to swallow; it left an acrid taste in her mouth and made her insides twist. He didn't remember her. Them. He didn't remember any of it. Marie couldn't understand how or why. She forced her gaze away from him and focused on Steve. It was easier that way, to just pretend it never happened.

"There's a couple shops down the street," Steve crossed his arms and frowned, "but we don't have much in the way of money."

Sam pulled his wallet from his pocket, thumbing through it. "I've got about 18 euros."

"Are we—Are we m-m-morally opposed to stealing?" Marie shrugged under Steve's flat expression. "Just asking. Dumpster diving is still on the-the—on the table."

Sam elbowed her. "Speak for yourself, I've got my eye on the McDonalds on the next street."

"Aw, does Sammy want a happy meal?"

Steve laughed. "Maybe a grumpy meal would be better."

"Look at you two, a bunch of comedians now huh?" Sam clapped his wallet shut and shoved it in his pocket. "I'm the one with the money, so you all better play nice if you want to eat."

Marie smirked and hip-checked him hard enough to make him stumble. She laughed at his startled expression and patted his shoulder in apology. "Sorry, s-sometimes I don't know my own strength. Thanks for the donation though."

She held up his wallet and danced out of his reach. She darted behind Steve, pocketing the cash and tossing the wallet back to Sam. "So, Macky D's then?"

"Not in that leather get-up."

Marie stuck her tongue out at Sam. He was right, though. Normal people don't wear leather jumpsuits to McDonalds that look like something straight out of a spy movie. She frowned and pulled at the suit.

"Steve, take off your-your—take off your shirt."

He blinked. "What?"

"You heard me, old m-m-man." Marie snapped her fingers with a wry grin. "Sam, jacket."

"You're so demanding," Sam grumbled and shrugged off his jacket.

Marie swallowed her laugh at Steve's sheepish expression as he passed his shirt, standing red-faced and shirtless. She pulled it over her head and tied a knot in the oversized shirt so it better fit her waist. With Sam's jacket on, she looked more casual and less assassin.