Guns and Ammunition [] TFATWS

One

Chapter One:

"You drool when you sleep." The woman spoke clearly, a brow raised in interest. "And snore."

He only glared, sitting up. She always wondered why he slept on the floor, and not in the bed that sat neatly made in his room down the hall.

"Why are you here?"

Josephine Stinson shrugged, watching him carefully. "Because I wanted to check on you."

That wasn't all a lie, considering the motions that lead her stumbling from her own apartment over to his in a sleepless fret. He had been yelling again, calling out in his sleep. Josephine was used to hearing his pleads through the thin walls of the complex, but that night they sounded so harrowing.

He didn't look convinced, matching her steady gaze. He sat up straighter, the dog tags around his neck clinked together with the movement. His shirt soaked through with sweat, sticking to his chest like second skin.

"You need to shower." She told him, "It'll make you feel better."

Josephine never asked about his nightmares, or even inquire if that was what they were. It seemed to personal, and after hearing the agony in his subconscious cries, she wasn't sure if she ever wanted to know.

"Go home, Jo." He said, adverting his gaze to the window. The curtain's were opened an inch, a steady beam of moonlight casting a shadow along the hardwood floors.

She shook her head, "Not tonight."

"I'm fine." He looked at her again, brown eyes locked with determination. "I'll be fine."

"You know you can talk to me, right?"

Bucky Barnes flashed her a glare before looking elsewhere, fastening his hands on the blanket he had kicked off of himself up to his waist. "You'd never believe me."

Josephine couldn't remember when she started noticing him around the complex, but it felt as if she was accustomed to spotting him by the mailroom staring down his numbered box. He was there every morning, same spot, eyes glued to the small numbers. He never received any mail, and she would watch him walk slowly back to the stairwell in silence. The woman had no idea when he moved in, but if she was judging by his empty apartment, it wasn't long. Yet, it felt much longer than even a few months. Perhaps a year, maybe two?

"Try me."

He said nothing, the end of his blanket still gripped tightly in his hand. "Don't you have work in the morning?"

"I hate my job." Josephine said, eyeing him down. He wasn't getting rid of her easily, not like last time. "I'd rather stay here and sit in silence with you than be yelled at by old men."

Bucky snorted at that, brows leaving their furrowed position. His body seemed to relax, slouching a tad to his previous stiff pose. "I can yell if you'd like."

Josephine suppressed a smile as she brought herself to the floor, sitting with her legs crossed next to him. He met her gaze at that, blue eyes staring steadily into her brown ones. "You shaved." She told him, pointing out his scruff. The other day it had been a few inches longer, she always made fun of him when she spotted a crumb or two lingering.

"You should really get some sleep, Josie."

He always called her that, and she wasn't yet sure if she liked it. He was a man of few words, that was very obvious, and months of being around him hadn't loosened him up any. Every time she visited, it seemed the bags under his eyes were darker and the worry lines across his forehead thicker.

"I could say the same for you."

Bucky pursed his lips, "I never get sleep."

"You just need to... I don't know, relax." She shrugged, "It helps talking to someone, you know."

His mouth twitched downward, a sigh heaving his chest. "I have someone to talk too once a week."

Josephine nodded slowly, "I know what you mean, but sometimes talking to someone you trust is better. It's easier because you trust them, right. You know they won't judge or look at you differently, that they actually care. Shrinks get paid to listen to problems, after a handful they all just blend together and they don't even know what yours is anymore."

"You see a shrink?"

"I did." She answered truthfully, bringing her knees up to her chest. It was still difficult to think about it, it had been so long since she lost her sister. "Then I stopped. I didn't want to talk about it anymore. I never did, really, but my mom always told me it was a good idea."

Bucky nodded slowly, as if he was trying to dissect the words that left her mouth. She sighed, perhaps it was time to go. How long had she been there, an hour, maybe two? Time always managed to flip by when she was with him, a short visit turning into a long one. Josephine pulled herself up off the ground, giving him a small smile. "I'll see you later, right?"

Normally, he always said no. He was always polite about it, always with a quiet laugh. Bucky was never rude, she found, he always tried to make sure he was being a good person.

"22 is yours, right?"

She paused, a brow raising as she watched him meet her gaze. His eyes weren't as fogged as they were before, now she swore she could see a more positive emotion shining in the moonlight.

"Yes."

He shifted from his spot, adjusting the blanket as Josephine paused, not bringing herself to move quietly to the front door. She wondered when she did, if he'd go and lock it, or leave it open as it was before.

Bucky swallowed, the bulb in his throat moving as he looked at her. "Maybe," He muttered, "If you'd like to stay, you can."

She tried to hide her shock, but she felt her expression shift. How many times had she'd been here, all in the cover of darkness, and how many times did they part ways after she was content with his weary answers.

"You should really sleep in your bed." She told him, feet carrying her to the door. She wouldn't stay, not tonight. Perhaps if he asked her again another time, which she knew there would be plenty more nights when his cries would wake her. Did they wake anyone else? "Maybe that will help you sleep."

"Maybe."

Josephine gave a soft smile, her own eyes tired as she blinked lazily. "I'll be around tomorrow, if you need anything."

He said nothing, she only watched as he slowly brought himself back down to the floor. His figure disappeared behind the couch, the floorboards creaking the only sign of his presence. Josephine slipped through the door, shutting it soundlessly behind her and made way to her own apartment, to the next door on the left.