a lion among wolves, bucky barnes (hiatus)

twenty-three

NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK
2015

JUNE sat in stunned silence for the majority of the car ride.

She and Natasha cruised down 45th street in Nat's coal-black Stingray, which brought back stale memories of the day June first got wrapped into this mess. She was so nervous she could taste bile in the back of her throat.

"It won't be as bad as you think," Natasha reasoned, trying to sound optimistic. "It's not like Steve is notoriously impolite."

June brought the knuckle of her index finger to her lips. "That's what's terrible," she murmured. "He won't even be human enough to hate me."

Natasha tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. "You want Steve to hate you?"

June shrugged limply. "If I was him I would."

"Maybe that's just you."

June threw her an incredulous glance. "What do you mean?"

Natasha did not reply for many moments. "I just think," she said at last, "that if you think you deserve what Steve is doing, you need to improve your opinion of yourself."

"But I—"

"You did nothing that constitutes nine months of avoidance. How Rogers felt—or feels—about you is irrelevant when it comes to what you deserve. And you don't deserve to be entirely in the wrong."

June bit the inside of her cheek. Something stirred in her. Something like relief. It would be a lot easier to sleep at night if she was not exclusively to blame for her and Steve's falling-out.

"I should've told him Bucky was there," June whispered.

"You should've told Barnes to get lost," Nat corrected, a sudden edge to her tone. "If we're talking what you should have done, it's staying away from the psychologically sick assassin for your own safety. But you took him in. For Steve."

June shifted her leg upon the leather seat. "I guess you have a point."

Natasha kept her feline eyes on the road ahead, her face firm and carved from marble. "I don't like seeing you beat yourself up over this. Especially after Bucky . . . after things got quiet."

New York City glided past the tinted windows in a gleaming blur. In the distance, June could see the Avengers tower stretching up into the magnificent blue sky. Her stomach flipped.

"What could I even say?"

"To Steve?" Natasha arched a red, sculpted eyebrow.

"To Steve," June repeated, "and to . . . all of them. What do you talk about with the greatest heroes on earth?"

Natasha seemed to think for a moment. "The weather," she decided. "Or their powers. Special abilities. Origin stories. Take your pick."

June swallowed hard. "Okay."

She did not think talking about the weather with Thor would be a wise choice. But she kept the opinion to herself.

• • •

TONY was waiting outside the tower when June and Natasha pulled up at its doors.

A chauffeur scurried beside them as soon as the Corvette slid to a halt and ushered Natasha out of the driver's seat; June followed, nauseous with dread. The chauffeur began to pull away, and soon June's only means of escape was turning around the corner.