Safe with you

Dorito Ratio

I slipped on a skin-tight cocktail dress and a pair of heels, checking myself over once more in the mirror before I strolled out of my room into the hallway that connected Bucky and my rooms, clutch in hand. Bucky was already waiting for me, resting against the wall with his arms crossed on his chest and eyes clothes. I took the opportunity to fully take in his appearance and I couldn't help the chuckle that slipped from my lips. He was wearing a casual white t-shirt and a pair of jeans. His eyes flashed open and he glanced over to me.

"What?" he asked, accusatory. I grinned back at him, aware that he knew I was laughing at him.

"You told me to dress inconspicuously, and then you're wearing that," I pointed out.

"What does that mean? I think its appropriate."

"Well, Mr. 1920s, I would suggest you get changed. I can't be all dolled up while you're just in jeans."

Bucky peeled himself off the wall and sulked into his room. After a few moments, he returned. The same top remained but now he had paired it with a pair of shorts. He put his hands out at his sides and did a quick spin around to show off the outfit.

"Better?" He asked, giving little jazz hands to try and sell it.

"Nope," I replied, popping the 'p' sound to emphasise my point.

With a dramatic sigh, a rather large eye roll, and what seemed to be an internal war against himself, Bucky met my eyes with the biggest puppy dog eyes I have ever seen.

"Can you please help me?" he asked, sounding reluctant to the idea.

I tried to mask my shock that Bucky Barnes, pain in my ass extraordinaire, was asking me for help. I plastered on a smile before I replied, "Of course Bucky."

He stepped back into his room and I followed a pace behind him. He plonked himself onto his bed, head resting against the wall while his dread-filled eyes followed my movements. To my surprise, he had all of his clothes already hung in the room's built-in wardrobe which made my job easier than I had anticipated. In my head, I had imagined that his clothes would still be in his cargo-bag which was thrown into the corner of the room. I had also imagined that he wasn't one to fold things so I had been prepared to iron before we made this man presentable.

I threw my clutch onto the edge of his bed before I began to file through his clothes, considering what would be the most suitable. I considered that he was supposed to be a wealthy heir and that we would be mixing with the elites of the under-world so that was something I considered a suit-worthy occasion. I pulled said-outfit out of his wardrobe with flair – a move that made Bucky look at me with tortured eyes.

"Perfect!" I announced while passing the suit (and tie which matched my dress amazingly) to Bucky, who was still slumped on his bed.

"Don't you think this is a bit extreme?" Bucky groaned, eying the outfit with disgust.

"Clearly not, otherwise I wouldn't have given it to you," I replied in a tone that said 'duh'.

He fingered the tie gingerly, eyes flicking towards my dress before he met my gaze again.

"The tie is just... a lot."

"Wow, Bucky, way to say you don't want to match without saying you don't want to match. My feelings are hurt," I said in a deadpan tone while I grabbed the tie back from him.