Buried Knives (A Bucky Barnes enemies to lovers story)

Part 8: Mindless

Air whooshed out of the duvet when she flopped onto it. 

The covers were white and soft. She nuzzled her cheek into them, hair haloing around her head. 

Keys were jangling by the door as James fiddled with the door and the bags. Grumbling as usual. Did this man ever stop?

The room was small enough. Two queen sized, white clad beds, a dresser, TV and a chair by the window. Everything was white or beige, some dull art hung from the walls. 

She was just dozing off, mind blissfully clear. The light from the windows warming her ever so slightly. 

Then James dumped all the luggage by her feet with a sizable thud. 

"What the-" Sitting up she glared at Barnes as he sauntered across the room. Furious eyes following him as he picked up a bag and dumped it on the other bed. 

"We're going out," he announced, unzipping his bag and letting it flop  open on the bed. 

"Where?"

"On a run."

"Do you ever sleep?"

"When I'm dead I will."

She grinned at him. Touché.

"Well I'm not going."

Laying back on the mound of pillows she watched him. He rooted through his neatly folded clothes, muscles in his arms shifting. 

He looked up at her. "Too bad because I can't leave you alone."

Then he turned around and pulled off his shirt. 

She would have looked away. If it weren't for the...

"What happened?" She mumbled. 

His metal arm went all the was to his collar bone where it met flesh in a violent crash of scar tissue and metal. Framed with what she could only guess were claw marks. 

He looked up at her. Studing her face. "Lots of things," he eventually said.

"But don't change the subject." He shut the suitcase. "Get changed." 

Sighing she looked away. 

After another breath she looked at him again. He had a fresh t-shirt on and was making his way to the bathroom door, clothes tucked under his arm. 

"I have things too," she whispered. He stopped and turned to her. She pulled up her sleeve and displayed her wrist to him.

If you could even call it a wrist at this point. It looked like hardened wax. Like someone had melted her flesh then tried to smush it back into place. She had claw marks too. 

He looked at her exposed flesh. Setting his jaw, he looked back at her face. Probably registering the scar there too.

She just nodded at him and fell back onto the bed. 

He stayed where he was for a moment. Then she heard the dull click as the bathroom door closed. 

The ceiling was also white. She watched it vaugley. Breathing deeply into her chest.

Her skin felt ichy and wrong. She could feel the raised and pot marked skin along her arms brushing her clothes. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't and wouldn't ever know how she'd got them. They mapped the skin of a body that wasn't hers. How could it be hers if she remembered nothing about it? It was a body she was forced to borrow. It disgusted her.

"Ready to go." Barnes was looking down at her.

She closed her eyes, exhaling, willing herself to speak.  "No." She finally forced out. Like hell was she going running with Barnes right now.