I Thought You Were Different: Part 4

Control

It was hard to get into your fight gear with your phone held tightly to your ear, but the conversation that you were stuck in wasn't going to stop for anything, given the excitement coming from the other side. Luckily Steve was there to help, holding your shirt out so that you could slip one arm in, change the phone to the other hand, then slip in the other. Bucky had been done getting ready for your spar for almost twenty minutes now, and all you could do was to throw him a shrug and silent apology as the voice on the other end of the line continued without so much as a breath between words.

"Yes, Pepper," you sighed, "whatever he wants. I already told him that I'd do it, and I don't care if he wants me in a dress or a suit, or at this point I'll go naked for what it's worth. Just tell me what to get sized for."

Steve snickered quietly from behind you, zipping up the closure of your vest before taking a step in front of you with your gloves in his hand. "Gimme," he whispered, holding one up for you to slide into, and then the other. "Next."

"Pep, listen to me, you're freaking out. Breathe. We've got everything covered. Do you really think that I'm going to let my Dad's wedding go wrong in any way? Give me a little credit, alright?"

Steve took a step back and gave your uniform a final look, turning you around so that he could see the whole thing, realizing that there was one thing still missing. He shook his head at the continued bickering in your conversation as he turned to your bag on one of the benches and pulled it open, stopping suddenly with a look of confusion. He reached in and took out a pair of frighteningly large knives from your pack, pulling back the sheath of one to find that they were even more frightening than he had thought. The handles were ornate and colorful, and the blades were polished to a mirror-like shine as if they had yet to be used.

"What are these?"

"Uh, Pep, hold on," you stopped, pressing the palm of your hand over the mouthpiece. "I don't need those for this."

"I would hope not," Steve scoffed with wide eyes, "but what are they?"

"Wade gave them to me. He knows my affection for knives, I guess."

Now Bucky's interest had been piqued as well, seeing the reflection shine as it caught the sunlight from the windows behind him. He moved up next to Steve and carefully held out a hand, taking a knife from him to get a closer look at the details. "Holy shit, (Y/N), you could gut me with these things."

"I'm not using them."

"When would you ever?" Bucky asked in complete terror at what you could do. Now more than ever, with his concerns as to your abilities and how you could use them, seeing a weapon like this in your possession made him that much more anxious. "You should never need these, (Y/N). What are they made of?"

"Pepper, I'm gonna have to call you back," you interrupted her once again, "just tell Dad I'll call him when I'm done. I've gotta go before these two doofuses stab themselves." You closed the line and tossed your phone aside onto your bag, reaching out and taking the weapons away from each of them to slide them back into their sheaths. "These aren't for you. Knives are my thing, okay. You're going to get hurt if you keep waving them around like that."

"Sorry," they both muttered, their eyes still staying on your hands as you took the blades from them slowly and carefully.

"Okay, Buck, how do you want to do this?" you smiled, standing ready for direction. "Should we take this outside?"

"Hmm, that might be better," he nodded, "hadn't thought of that. Should we see if anyone else wants to join in?"

"Steve?"