When You Were Never Mine

Aftermath

The next morning, you woke to an empty bed and a hangover that made you regret every drink taken the night before. Your eyes felt like they could explode from your skull, your stomach was churning the acid building up into your throat, and the headache was like no other; the normally musical sounds of birds just outside your window only made you consider a round of target practice.

Your first instinct was to blame this on Tony for giving you the idea to drown the images from your minds, but then it was all shifted to Bucky for making them in the first place. You couldn't really stop him, of course, but you weren't as skilled as blocking him from your mind as he had been, and poor Tony had barely any experience with this problem at all. He was new to this whole soulmate thing, so his first instinct was to panic.

"Hey, FRIDAY," you practically whispered, "where's-"

"He's still asleep on the couch, miss. He moved downstairs when your incessant snoring kept him from sleeping."

"I don't snore," you argued, finding your voice in the insinuation. All it did to argue with the A.I., whose attitude matched her creator's, was to get a replay of the sounds of your sleep during the night, played just loud enough to echo throughout your room, but not to cause you any more pain in your already pounding head. "Fine, point made, turn it off."

"Of course," she complied. "I also have a message saved for you from Mr. Barnes. I intercepted it from your phone before it rang so it wouldn't wake you."

The last thing that you wanted to hear right now was his voice, knowing that it would only renew the sights that put you into this position in the first place. "Can you just give me the high points instead?"

"He didn't say much, only to ask if you would call him once you woke for the day."

"Thanks." But before you could talk to him, you stood and stretched, hoping to quell the ache in every muscle in your body, but it didn't much help. You considered loading up with caffeine to find just enough energy to move, but you would have to move to get it. Instead, you grabbed your phone from your bedside table and flopped back down onto the mattress with a huff. You found Bucky's number with a few hesitant swipes of your thumb over the glass, and closed your eyes when you finally decided to connect the call.

"Hey," he answered quietly. You heard the hastened shuffle of his feet as he moved, making it clear that you hadn't caught him alone.

"Buck, what the hell was that?"

"What?"

"Last night," you answered flatly. "Are you and Natasha a thing now? When did that happen?"

There was a long pause, but you could hear the sounds of his breathing; otherwise, you might have thought he had hung up out of refusal to answer. "Why does that matter?"

"Because I didn't think that you were ready for something so serious. Buck, you only just got your mind back, and you still aren't at 100% yet."

"How would you know?" he snapped. "You left, and we barely talk. You have no idea what my mind is doing, and I know that you and Steve are buddies but whatever he's told you is from his skewed point of view. He's overprotective to a goddamn annoying fault."

"Buck, what's going on?" you asked, keeping your tone calm. "You seem like something's wrong. You're being...hostile."

"I don't know, honey, you're coming at me with your accusations and judgments, so I'm just tossing it back."

"I don't mean to be, I'm sorry," you sighed. "I just had a long night and a really bad hangover. It was a shock to see, that's all."

"Pfft, right," he scoffed, "tell me about it. It's about damn time you got that experience. It fucking sucks, doesn't it?"