Adamanteus

The shower water dribbled all over your body, the faucet barely spitting enough water to wash your hair. You sighed and gave up, turning the water off and resigning to rubbing the towel over your partly wet body, glancing at the clock to make sure you wouldn't be late for ballet classes. Rushing slightly faster, you pulled your clothes over your body and slammed the door behind you, ignoring your flat mates as they stumbled around in a half drunk state from the night before. As you leave the flat you manage to collide with your TA, carrying harmful of books with his good arm.

"Hey, whoa," Bucky said as the books flattered to the floor, his arm teaching out to still you and prevent you from following the books to the floor.

"Damn, I'm sorry. I was in a rush, I was out late last night-"

"Yeah, I heard you all come home this morning. It sounds like a good night." He smiled, squatting on the floor to retrieve his books. He struggled with TH of his one arm, the other confined in his sling.

"Here, let me help," you say, dropping to your knees and scooping them up, placing them into Bucky's outstretched arm. "Are you sure you don't need any help with those? I'm not running too late-" you glanced at your phone, noticing you barely had any time to get to class.

Bucky excused you, shrugging his shoulders and backing away to his room. "It's fine, I got this. Have fun." He winked as his door swung shut in your face, and you ran off, barely making class on time.

*

Sweating and exhausted, you slipped your blade back into the sole of your shoes and pulled your bra strap up your shoulder. You wiped your nose with the back of your hand, dried blood flaking off onto it. You sighed, set your bag upon your shoulder and sauntered off, slapping hands with your classmate and disappearing into the night.

It was early morning by the time you arrived home, slipping into your corridor and padding through the semi-dark, footsteps silent as everyone around you lay sleeping. There was a door propped open at the end of the hall, a figure leaning against it and flicking an object around in their hand. You blended into the wall almost immediately, slipping your pistol from the thick tights hidden by the tutu.

"You know ballerinas in training don't wear tutus. They only wear them when they are in a show." The figure at the door said, straightening up and seemingly staring at your shadow.

You inhaled sharply, recognising the voice speaking to you. "Bucky?" You straightened up, taking the gun off safety but stepping into the light. You painted on your best college girl smile, walking down the hall and pausing outside your door. "What are you doing up? It's so late, the suns almost coming up!"

Bucky chuckled, a low sound. Looking at him, you noticed he had two working arms this time. Trying not to be obvious, you leaned back, glancing into his bedroom behind him. He blocked the door with his body, showing his palms in a surrender move. "Calm it. I'm on your side."

"What are you talking about?" You laughed, pressing the gun to your back, pointed at him.

He stepped forward. "I'm on your side."

In an instant Bucky was by you and seizing your arm with the gun in it. The hand was cool, feeling very unhuman and hard. His lips against your ear, he whispered, "I'm with you. I'm your guide."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Bucky smirked, letting his hand trail down to the gun and tapping it in your hand. "The classes you're in? You all need a trainer, someone to keep watch of you outside. Making sure you don't fuck up. Embarrass us." He took the gun from your hand, pulling your tutu open and pressing the cool metal against your skin. "You can see it in your tights. You should try and keep it better concealed."