Subject X (Winter Soldier X Reader)

24

27 bottles.

Frederick had 27 bottles of different French and imported wines in his completely alcohol stocked pantry.

After hiding out in the forest and stealing from convenience stores in order to clean and dress my wound, I made my way back to Frederick's house to hide. I couldn't go back to the hydra house, they would know I was there. Hell they take my blood in order to let me in.

I downed three bottles in one evening and nothing. Not even the fishbowl feeling when you first start to get tipsy. What I did feel was the hangover the next morning. I can drink without getting drunk but I still feel the horrible side effects; The serum gave me the worst combination possible.

During my time in the red room, we were instructed to learn about the things that would help us out in missions. Every day commonalities that would make our covers more believable. I had taken a particular fascination to alcohol. I learned the different types, drinks, brews, and how to make them. It seemed to impress the men with how much I knew about how to brew a beer.

Knowing that I couldn't get drunk, I still loved the taste of a sweet red wine. It paired well with the grilled cheese sandwiches I ate consistently. Thankfully the fridge and cabinets were stocked with the essentials that were needed in order to cook. I picked up on it fairly quickly while reading the cook books in Frederick's home.

Tonight I was simply grounding up some hamburger meat, playing with what seasonings tasted the best with the meat. I pulled the meat off the burner, scooping it down on the plate. I took my plate and glass of wine and made my way to the living room, plopping down lazily on the couch. I put my glass of wine on the table and picked up the book. A French poem book called The Flowers of Evil by Charles Baudelaire. This book caused so much retaliation from the French authorities that it had to be republished three times to fit the decency standards of the late 1850's.

I turned to my place in the book, folding it open and spreading the pages with my thumb. I took a bite of my food and twisted my nose up at the extreme saltiness of the hamburger meat.
"Ugh. That's disgusting."
I read it was hard to over-season hamburger meat. That's why I knew I had done something terribly wrong.

I put my book down, picking up my plate and spitting my previously chewed food back onto the plate. Still in disgust, I brought my wine to my mouth and took a sip to wash it away.

I heard a creak come from the dining room. The quietest noise a person could possibly hear. You'd hear a pin drop before this eerie creak. I was trained to notice the slightest disturbances within the space I'm in.

Suddenly everything felt quiet. I was listening for another sound, something to confirm my suspicions. I've been waiting for this moment, waiting for hydra to fetch their lost property. I assumed that there would be glass shattering, screaming, and lasers from guns pointed at my head. Instead, there was silence. I knew it could only mean one thing.

I prepared for this moment, hiding every possible weapon in every possible hiding spot I could. I slowly turned around and pulled a pistol out of the couch cushion behind me I readied it, bringing the gun in a defensive position as I slowly stood up. I began to walk to the arched entryway where the dining room met the living room. I stopped just before the corner. I looked for any possible way that I could see what was around that corner and came up with nothing.

I steadied my breath before making a bold move. I jumped around the corner and cocked back the gun, pointing it directly at the intruder.

Our stone cold faces shared a stare off. I could tell I was not looking at the same Bucky I had once knew. His eyes were dull and lifeless, his face showed no expression. I thought about what he said before he pushed me from the helicopter. I wondered now if that was really true, and if he was thinking that now.