Captain America and Bucky Barnes Imagines

26. STEVE: Perfect

Words: 6K

Warnings: Language

           

"You have a sister?"

Tony rubs his face tiredly. "Believe me, Doc, I'm just as shocked as you are." His hands wring together now at his twisty, turning stomach. His mouth opens slightly to let out a long puff of air.

Bruce Banner scratches the back of his neck. "And she just... what? Showed up on your doorstep?"

"Not exactly." Tony waves a hand in the air to turn on the holographic touch screen. The first thing that appears is a photo of you—a mugshot. "SHIELD showed up on hers. She was suspected of murder."

Bruce's eyes take on a rounder shape. "And did she?"

Tony's gaze, which has been locked on your face in search of your shared father's similarities, darts to Bruce. "Kill someone? Oh yeah. She did. A couple people, actually." He switches over to the next screen. "But that's not the most shocking part." A picture of your house, another of you in handcuffs. Tony breathes out through his nose at the final photo in the series—one where his little sister, a person he's never met—is bound and gagged in a laboratory room with the most distance, emotionless expression on her face.

"She electrocuted them," Tony explains, "With her mind."

...

Two months later

I stand in the grass outside of the Avenger's fancy compound with my backpack of belongings over my shoulder and a stone-featured face. If my mother taught me anything before I killed her, it was to never let anyone see your fears. Fears are weaknesses, and weakness is death.

In the end, she was afraid of me—afraid of the monster she'd created in her desperate attempts to get the Stark family's attention.

Before I can make any movements away from the parked cab, a door opens a few yards off on the side of the building. Strolling into the midday light is the short legged, dark haired man I've come to recognize as being my older brother. We've met in person a handful of times. He was the one to drag me out of the SHIELD prison. He convinced them that the deaths I'd caused had been purely self-defense: which is only partially true. 

"Y/N, you finally made it!"

I lift my arms up in a sort of shrugging gesture. "In one piece, miraculously. I really didn't think I'd live long enough for the day you wanted me on the team." I've known Tony to be my brother for as long as my mother could tell me. She'd constantly whip me with, "You've got to be better. Faster, stronger, deadlier. You have to be good enough for the Starks. You have to; or you're useless."

Tony walks the short distance between me and the door. He stuffs his hands in his tight jean pockets. His eyes, which are nothing like mine in shape or color, run up and down what I wear. I've chosen my favorite tie-dyed ribbed tank underneath a long pair of denim overalls. My shoes are bright yellow sneakers. And with my hair all pulled to one side, he's seeing the lightning bolt shaped scar that runs from my ear down my neck all the way to the center of my chest.

I quirk an eyebrow, waiting for Tony to do something besides stare. I suppose I should be a bit more patient; I've known him to be my sibling for my entire life. He's only since learned about me in the past few months. He's still trying to cope with that fact, and staring at me apparently is helping. But I really don't like being gawked at like some sort of oddity.

"You gonna show me around or what?" I question the big-mouthed man who is suddenly mute.

Tony clears his throat. "Yeah. Yeah. I'll give you a tour." He flashes me that thousand dollar smile that's seen plastered on every TV screen and magazine from here to Timbuctoo.