The Blood Pact

Chapter 5: Mayday

Notes: Basically all the dudes in reader's life, aside from Steve (who is an angel baby, always), are dicks in this chapter. Warnings for drinking, swearing, some not very nice treatment of reader by some characters. Some hints at cheating and potential emotional abuse from a previous relationship.

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Over the next few weeks you and Bucky spent as little time together as possible.

It was easy in the daytime of course. Evenings were trickier, but you made it work - he'd avoid the kitchen while you cooked and then you'd go to bed early, or watch TV in the living room away from him and Steve. You started going out in the week more, even if it was just hanging at your friends' places for a couple of hours.

You were polite enough to each other that Steve wasn't suspicious - he just assumed you two didn't really get along, and tolerated each other for the sake of civility and a peaceful house.

And he wasn't wrong, really.

Bucky's words had struck you deeper than you initially realised. You didn't want to marry the guy, but him writing you off as 'nothing special' and only kissing you because essentially you were, well, just there. Low hanging fruit. It had brought up a lot of unresolved feelings about your ex, Peter. Towards the end of your relationship he would make you feel bad about yourself by dismissing you, or trying to shrink you in some way. He'd keep you in line by keeping your self-esteem low, and you only found the strength to leave after he cheated and you finally had enough. You had long suspected that wasn't the first time he had strayed, either.

How Bucky made you feel that night in your bedroom teleported you right back to your shared bedroom with Peter, where he'd tell you similar things if you dared question his bad behaviour. It was a much smaller thing of course, but you felt the parallels. It hurt, because deep down you knew you still had feelings for Bucky. But you swallowed those as best you could.

Feeds were a bit more awkward. Bucky sometimes went down to feeding every three days rather than two, which you felt was extreme just to avoid you - but then, you didn't particularly enjoy them now.

He switched to feeding from the wrist, not going near his once beloved thigh anymore. Like Steve he'd whip through them as quickly as possible, not touching you anymore than was strictly necessary. No more drawn out teasing or fake outs about where he'd bite. He'd barely talk to you unless he needed to, barely even look at you, just doing the bare minimum to get through it.

You still felt the haze, or 'the cloud' as Bucky had called it. But it was somehow muted, smaller. You wondered if personal feelings somehow affected it because oddly enough you actually felt more euphoria with Steve now. You'd gotten to know him much better and the haze reflected that higher level of comfort. You were becoming good friends. The feeling was still nowhere near what it had been like with Bucky in the beginning, but it was at least more pleasurable. With Bucky now the whole thing had an air of anxiety throughout, weighing you down and making you wish it would be over as fast as possible. You could scarcely believe that you used to enjoy it the way you did, it felt like a century ago now.

Bucky also insisted that his feeds all happened downstairs. He said it was better to do it in a communal area, although you wondered if it was actually because he didn't trust himself alone on a bed with you. But maybe that was wishful thinking. You went along with it anyway. It didn't matter anymore. And at least this way Steve would never expect anything had happened between you because you were only ever together out in the open.

Still, you couldn't complain. You loved the room and the house. You really loved the bathroom. The whole thing with Bucky was a shame, but overall the arrangement you had was working pretty well. And you couldn't believe the money you'd already saved not paying rent or utilities. Maybe one day you'd actually be able to buy your own small apartment in Brooklyn. Your pipe dream was suddenly looking a little more doable.