Shadows and Secrets (A MCU FanFic)

Chapter 30: Control (Part 1)

trigger warning: dark themes and references to self-harm that may be offensive or upsetting to some readers

Marjorie's POV

"How was your mission?" Nat asked before any of the other people could.

"I went well," Marjorie supplied before Sam could. She knew that he had low self-esteem about missions for some reason. "Sam did most everything."

She left the crowd of Avengers and tried to fade to the background and drift to her room. No one seemed to notice her absence except Bucky, per normal, and he quietly followed her.

Marjorie was exhausted. She didn't think she had slept within the last 48 hours. She was normally very good at hiding her fatigue, but everyone had limits. Marjorie's were higher because she had had a lot of practice pretending she was perfectly fine, especially in her earlier years.

"You straightened your hair," Bucky noted.

"Yeah." Marjorie struggled to focus on walking up the stairs when he tucked a strand behind her ear. "Stealth missions, you know..."

"When was the last time you slept?"

Marjorie tried to get her thoughts in order. She definitely shouldn't tell him that she couldn't remember. "Um, earlier?" That was not very convincing. Ugh, Marjorie couldn't think with this level of exhaustion.

Bucky grimaced. "You are a horrible liar."

"I'm a better liar when I'm awake," she mumbled, giving up the pretense and leaning on his shoulder.

"Is that why you didn't teleport to your room instead of walking?" he wondered out loud.

He was right, Marjorie didn't want to risk ending up in the wilderness in some random country or something. So instead she had to climb, like, a million stairs. Ugh.

"Are you going to sleep on the stairs?" Bucky asked. Marjorie scowled into his collar; she really didn't want to pass out on the stairs. However, she couldn't make her limbs move. "Do you want me to carry you?"

"Mmm-hmm," Marjorie said, and he picked her up (bridal-style) like she weighed no more than a small paperback.

"You know, most people don't sleep at one in the afternoon," he committed. "I'm guessing that you haven't slept well for at least a week. Your purple circles are starting to look like bruises."

Marjorie sighed. He was right, she had not slept well. "Yeah, I haven't."

"I thought so. That's really not healthy, Marjorie."

"You're one to talk," she muttered.

Bucky smiled. "I guess we both need to sleep more." He set her down in her doorway. "We're here," Bucky announced.

He started to pull away and Marjorie grabbed his hand, feeling an unreasonable sudden aching loneliness. "Stay," she said softly. "Please?"

His eyes widened and his shadow vapor pulsed with an emotion she couldn't put a name to. "Marjorie... I..." he hesitated.

"Please?" Marjorie knew that she should not ask this of him. She knew she was being illogical and impulsive. Why hadn't she thought this through?

"... Okay," he whispered.

~

Marjorie groaned and opened her eyes to the early morning light. The first thing she realized was that Bucky was there and that she was curled up against his chest. Marjorie was 100% sure that her face was on fire, even though nothing had happened.

She wasn't sure if she was disappointed or relieved by this fact.

Marjorie also realized that she had forgotten to change yesterday, and was still wearing her ninja-outfit-hoodie-ensemble. (Bucky was still wearing his same outfit too. Marjorie secretly thought it hilarious that he had, like, five of the same outfit. He was like a cartoon character.)

"Good morning," he said, probably realizing that she was awake. His voice, like always, made her internally shiver and her heart thump unevenly.

"Hi," Marjorie breathed, her heart crashing in her chest.

Bucky was lightly playing with a strand of her hair. It was still straight, but it would bounce back into her normal curls as soon as it got wet. Marjorie normally braided her hair before bed so it wasn't tangled and she shuddered to think of the state it was probably in. "How long have you been awake?" she asked.

"Not that long," he said cheerfully. That was... odd. Marjorie was confused by this unexpected mood until he said, "I didn't have a nightmare."

Marjorie didn't know what to make of this sudden development. Was he implying that sleeping together, (actually sleeping, Marjorie needed to get a grip on her thoughts,) had helped him not have nightmares? Maybe he was just stating an observation. She would wait to hear his theories first.

Aside from her mental panic, Marjorie was elated that Bucky didn't have a nightmare, even if it was a one time thing. How could she be anything but happy when his nightmares, which caused him so much pain, had skipped a night?

"That's wonderful, Bucky."

Bucky was still playing with her hair and maintained an unbiased tone. "Why do you think that is? Any theories?"

Oh no, he's not getting something out of me without revealing something himself first. Marjorie decided to take evasive action. "Maybe it's your lack of emotional-support stuffed animals."

Marjorie could feel his laughter vibrating in his chest. "Somehow, I don't think that's it."

He did not add anything else to the conversation, and Marjorie refocused her attention on the way that she was stretched across him, her body's curves naturally fitting into his hard muscles.

They fit together perfectly, like puzzle pieces.

And he was so comfortable. Marjorie couldn't remember ever being this relaxed before, but her nerves were also on fire, and somehow those two things didn't contradict each other.

His right arm was draped loosely around her waist and his other hand was in her hair. Marjorie vaguely worried if his metal hand could get stuck in her hair.

Marjorie dismissed this worry as worth it.

However, she probably needed to get up. Breakfast was scheduled for soon, and Marjorie needed to attend. Sam knew she hadn't eaten anything yesterday, and she had to keep up pretenses.

She also needed a shower...

That last fact sold it for Marjorie and she sighed. "I should probably get up now."

"Okay." Bucky sounded slightly... disappointed? Maybe that was the wrong word. Bucky shifted Marjorie in his arms and sat up, and she ended up sitting sideways in his lap. "You seem flustered," he muttered, and ran his thumb up her cheekbone.

Marjorie blinked in confusion, (trying unsuccessfully to ignore the shiver that ran down her spine in response,) until she recalled that she had been hiding her face in his chest and that she was most certainly blushing a lot.

He frowned when she didn't reply. "Are you okay with this?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

He seemed dissatisfied with her answer, but Marjorie couldn't understand why. "I thought— never mind," Bucky said.