flirting with fire ⋟ bucky barnes ▪︎ oc

thirty-seven.

She nodded with a tight lip smile, "absolutely." She walked through the door past Steve, "you coming?"

She gave him an expectant stare as she walked for the stairs in her white platform gogo boots.

"Yeah, that works," Steve hurried up next to her. "How you doing Pop?"

She shook her head at the sympathetic tone, "not in the mood to talk about much of anything I don't have to."

He silently nodded and made way downstairs with her, as tiny white boots clap the steps. When they walk through the door to the main hall of recording floor, Steve studied the curious look in her gaze.

"He said he'd be back tomorrow," he smiled and she turned with a glare up at Steve, anger he hadn't seen in her apparent. 

"I don't want to talk about him, Rogers. I'm serious, he left. He's done with me. Now I focus on work so I don't lose myself in the sadness."

She stormed toward the room, her flower and heart covered boots stomping through the doors to studio seven as she tugged at her thin white sleeves. The moment she walked through the door, she put on the best act she could for the guys.

"We ready for a bit of a listen?!" She wiggled with excitement as her thick accent made appearance.

Bash chuckled, impersonating her accent, "bit ova listen!"

She was able to turn it on a bit for the fun she was ready to have with the band. She was finding it didn't take all the emotion, just numbed the pain and anxiety, which was helpful.

While his beautiful orange haired paradox was enjoying her time listening to the album with Clutch, Bucky was sitting at an airport in Northern California contemplating the ache he felt inside. He knew now, being away from her, he couldn't live without her. But living the life she would be was a different story all together. 'I'm not a killer, but I love one,' he thought to himself all weekend. 

He'd told Steve he would be back Wednesday but he needed to see her sooner, he needed her to know he would always choose her. He also feared, if she thought he wasn't coming back, she would look for something to fill that void. He shuttered at the thought of her turning to someone else.

"I have to get back to her," he muttered as he gripped his ticket to JFK.

Poppy's tiny gogo boots tap nervously to the beat as they all listen with Quill, the producer. Bash had his arm over her shoulder as she lean back into the couch. The guys noticed the difference in her presence as she sat with them, a little more flirty and alot less filled with worry.

Quill smiles at her as he spins in his chair, "check this one out, Stark."

She narrowed her gaze, "don't call me that Peter." He put his hands up defensively, "okay okay." The band all studied the interaction before focusing on the music.

Quill clicked a button as a slow melody plays through the sound system.

She heard Chris' voice, 'she's a chemical fire, she's panicked desire. A willingness to give in, a hopeful aching...'

Bash pushes Chris who sits on the seat next to him, "who did you write it about Evans?"

Chris shakes his head, "it's not about Poppy." His blue eyes look over at her with an apologetic stare.

She chuckled and stood up as the melody picks up, twirling as she hummed along to the music. "I like it, and hey..if it is about me, thank you. I've never thought to describe myself as a chemical fire, but it does seem fitting."