This Is Stella's Reality

November 4, 2014

Steve's blue eyes bore into mine as I recounted my mission in Lyon.

SHIELD is not safe. Bucky is not safe. Hydra lingers closer than we thought.

His face was intense but unreadable to me. I searched his features. The usual softness around his eyes was gone, replaced with a blank sternness.

I had found him in the training room and surrounded by broken training droids. He was sitting, now, on a bench, unwrapping his hands from boxing gauze.

He moved his eyes down to the floor, and the evening light caught his blonde hair. It looked like fire in the bleeding orange rays. "I had a feeling life wouldn't be so easy," his voice was faraway.

Foolish to think any of us could be happy.

"What are we going to do?" My voice echoed in the silence between us.

There was a flash of anger that twisted his handsome face. If I had blinked, I would have missed it. His voice was low, darker than I had ever heard it, "Nothing, for now."

His eyes looked at me. They were shadowed by the depth of the violet night sky that expanded through the skylights above. "This stays between us for now," he stood from the bench. "We don't know who we can trust anymore."

"Even the team?"

He sighed, "The less they know, the better." Steve turned away from me and began packing his things, "I'll find out what I can."

His eyes regarded me once more, a questioning look ghosted through them, "What would you be prepared to do?"

A heartbeat passed between us, "Anything."

Steve seemed pleased with that answer. He nodded his head and swung his bag over his shoulder, "Don't tell him we're planning anything." His eyes were still serious, "He'll tell us to stop."

I knew he would. But his problems were my problems now. I would not let him suffer again.

I lingered a little longer in the training room, letting the sunset settle past the horizon and the light drift away from me. What a mess our lives have become.

"Angel?" My head whipped around. Bucky was standing in the entryway. The light of the hallways illuminated his frame.

I let go of a breath I had been holding, "Hey, ducky."

He chuckled at the nickname, "You're cute when you're mad."

"I'm not mad."

"You look mad." He stepped towards me, towering above me as I sat on a bench. "Your eyebrows are pinched together, and your lip is pouting." A sigh passed through his lips, "You're thinking about what that Hydra agent said."

He laughed again, tired and not really humorous, "Doll, let's take your mind off the mission." His hand extended to mine.

I took it; his skin was warm against mine. He pulled me to my feet and wrapped his arms around my shoulder. I breathed in his scent, strong and intoxicating.

"Hey," his voice cut through my daydreams, "let's go to that bar we went to for your birthday." He fixed some hair behind my ears, "We can take my bike, go for a drive, get some drinks, just us."

Just us.

I wished our France mission had gone differently.

His eyes were steady, and a smile befell him, "Put on something nice, angel."

I'm sure my cheeks burned red. I nodded, and Bucky guided me out the training room and up the stairs.

He hesitated a moment outside of my door. His hand brought mine to his lips, and he placed a delicate kiss on my knuckles the way he had in Lyon.