4.4 | Trigger ✓

03 | ржaвый

"That's how you know me? From the museum?"

"Of course," she shrugged. "The museum called you a World War II hero. You're practically a living legend."

He fell silent and, figuring that he probably didn't want to talk anymore, she turned back to the television. But she didn't miss the way he cast curious glances her way when he thought she wasn't looking. It was impossible not to miss that. His eyes were startlingly blue under some lights, but a stormier grey tint at times; and he looked at her like he was trying to break her apart if only so he could examine all of her, just so she'd make sense to him.

She didn't think anyone had ever looked at her that way before.

And his curiosity didn't falter, not even several days later, when she overheard him asking Sam and Steve about her. She was in her bedroom, the door ajar as she did some extensive research for one of her patients. They were in the living room, and she heard Steve laughing ridiculously hard at Bucky's question, followed by a loud thump that she presumed was Bucky firmly shoving him off the couch.

Sam, on the other hand, astutely held back on his sardonic quips and said instead, "Talk to her if you want to know more about her, man. It's not that difficult; she's actually very easy to talk to."

There was a lengthy pause. Unable to stop her curiosity, Dakota set her laptop down and moved closer to the door.

"If you're afraid that you can't trust her, don't be," Sam continued. "I had problems after flying in the rescue squadron a couple of years ago. I went to the treatment facility and Dot was just an intern then. But I talked to her and she listened – "

Dakota smiled. Sam Wilson wasn't half bad when he wasn't saying or doing things that made her want to smack him.

" – after my sessions were over and I got back on my feet, I decided to help out fellow war veterans. I'm just saying – you ever have a tough time, or having those nightmares you usually have, Barnes – just go to her. She's got ridiculous levels of sympathy and empathy; she's very good at what she does – "

"Because she's been through it before," Bucky's voice was low but sharp, and it felt like a sudden stab in the dark.

She flinched away from the door and retreated back to her bed. But her mind reeled; her breaths grew unsteady. How did he know? He'd barely spoken to her, and yet discovered the one thing that could break her apart. She dragged a shaky hand through her hair and plugged her earphones in, drowning herself in the music.

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She wasn't surprised to see Bucky enter the kitchen sometime later. He looked shaken, even though he tried to hide it. But she noticed the hunch in his shoulders and the way he held his metal arm in front of him, as if to fend off any imaginary attack.

She was still working on her research, humming along to the radio as she wrote; but he simply spared her a glance before making a beeline for the pot of tea that she'd brewed, reaching for a mug and pouring himself a generous helping to the brim. Over the past few days, she'd quickly gathered that Sam considered coffee a staple and Steve, for all his poster-boy levels of fitness, had a strangely sweet tooth and could drink coffee at any time of the day. She and Bucky, on the other hand, had a strong liking for tea. His was always black, strong, no sugar, no milk. While hers was dilute, with a dash of sugar and several teaspoons of milk.

Bucky stood as he drank, and she watched the slide of his Adam's apple along his throat, the muscles on his neck corded with tension and his normal arm braced on the counter, strong lines of veins running down his arm under tanned skin. His posture was rigid, shoulders knotted and he set his cup down, blinking rapidly as he dragged in several shallow breaths.