a lion among wolves, bucky barnes (hiatus)

eighteen.

WASHINGTON D.C.
2014

JUNE WAITED for night to fall.

It certainly was not any quieter, traffic was still blaring on the streets below, but June was counting on the noise.

Sneaking into a master assassin's bedroom while he slept to steal his things required every advantage she could get.

So evening arrived. The familiarity of a mission came with it. June was curled up on the couch with a book in her lap when Bucky bid her goodnight. It was the first time they had spoken since that afternoon, and while he looked like he would like to say more, a grimace fell over his face and he turned into the guest room, shutting the door with a small click.

June waited until the clock read 1:00 a.m.. Putting use to her enhanced hearing, she listened for Bucky's breathing and found it was slow and deep and carried a soft snore. He was sleeping. Lightly, June knew, but her chance was there.

She slipped on a pair of socks and tied back her hair. Dressed in leggings and a white tank-top, June eliminated every restriction or hazard from her person. Drawing in a deep breath, she started down the hall towards Bucky's room.

The band of light from his bedside lamp spilled from the crack beneath the door. June reached for the handle and pushed the door open a fraction of an inch. Through the small gap she could see Bucky's dozing figure. June gave herself more room to wriggle through the doorway, quietly relieved that the hinges did not squeak.

She crept inside Bucky's room. Her gaze fell immediately on his face. He looked somewhat peaceful, pink lips parted slightly, his long eyelashes dark crescents against his cheeks. A small scowl formed above his nose, and his chest rose and fell rhythmically; even in sleep, his hands curled into fists at his sides.

Shaking herself out of her distraction, June scanned the bedroom for Bucky's backpack. She found it slumped against the bed frame, and in one swift movement, she snatched up the bag, darted out of the room, and shut the door without a sound.

Too impatient to make it to the couch, June sat down on the living room floor and unzipped the backpack with shaking hands. She rummaged through the scattered dollar bills and crumpled newspapers until her fingers brushed against soft leather. June excavated the six notebooks, handling them like priceless artifacts. As she gingerly flitted through the pages, she found that they were all empty, save for the very last one. Taking a deep breath, June began to read:

Her heart was beating wildly. So, he had been planning to come to the apartment since the beginning . . . Frowning, June flipped the page and scanned the next entry.