I hate you, don't I? - Stucky

Dropped food

The next day starts as it usually would. Early wake ups and slight regret from the ones that stayed for a drink too many the night before. But for the most part, everything was completely normal.
Steve got up just slightly later than usual but still had time to go down early and get some practice in. He felt slightly embarrassed about last night. He shouldn't have shoved Bucky, but he didn't really care. He felt better than he did the day before.

He was listening to the instructor talk about disabling one person as fast as you can if your fighting more than one to give you the advantage when he looked up to Bucky. He was facing the instructor and listening. For once he wasn't looking towards Steve. It must have been a coincidence.

He was partnered up with Nat as usual but he hadn't yet told her about what he did last night. He isn't sure if he should bother, but knowing them, he will end up telling her at some point. But not now. They're in the middle of a lesson and they never talk during those.

He's being slowly tackled by Nat so she can figure out exactly where to put her feet when he looks up again. But Bucky still isn't looking.

More time goes by without any trouble from anyone as he works with Nat to get the moves down. He steps side by side before jumping forward and performing the move as if they were in an actual fight. She falls with a thud but gets up immediately with a smile.

"Nice, Rogers. My turn".

He didn't show it on the outside, but inside he winced at the sore butt he was about to get from being slammed into the floor.

They hopped around each other, taking a few jabs before she saw an opening and dived in.
He'd barely registered it before he fell to the floor with a grunt, the wind slightly knocked from him. Taking a second, he lay out flat on his back and stretched his head back to look behind.

He saw Bucky standing there after just flooring his parter. He dropped his hands from the defensive position and glanced around. He briefly made eye contact with Steve but averted them as soon as he noticed.

It was strange. Steve had got so used to seeing those eyes every time he looked around. It was incredibly annoying but he'd gotten used to it and now he felt off without them. He felt slightly bad that he might have scared the man yesterday, but he was less angry today so he didn't feel that bad.

He carried on with the training, occasionally glancing up, but not once was Bucky looking in his direction.

At dinner, he decided to get his food and eat in his room. It had been a gruelling day and the thought of socialising whilst trying to eat sounded horrible. So he went down to the kitchen area and collected his tray.

A few others were sat on tables in discussion, but Bucky and his group were standing up by the table near the door, shouting and being generally loud. But he wouldn't let them ruin his mood so quick, so he thanked the lovely lady that made their meals and carried his tray back towards the door.

"Where you headed Rogers, going to eat your food while you rub one off to a picture of Fury?" One of them shouts, making sure everyone heard him.

The only people that laughed were the others in his little gang.

He found the one that shouted it and shook his head. "I don't think so Rumlow, he isn't my type".

This made a few people chuckle but quickly stopped again when they saw Rumlows angry face. He walked toward Steve with a few others.

"You think you're so great, huh? No, I bet he's not your type. I bet no ones your type Rogers", the man hissed into Steve's face. "You probably haven't touched a woman since you lost your virginity in college".

Steve's good mood had been lost already, but he didn't turn to leave just yet. Instead, he pretended to laugh.

"Actually Brock, you're not far off there".

The man didn't understand what Steve was talking about, which just made him even more irate. He put out a hand and shoved at Steve's shoulder who quickly retaliated by throwing Rumlows arms away from him.

Steve wasn't going to fight this idiot here, so he shook his head and turned to leave.

But as he was walking past the others, someone put their foot out and Brock shoved him hard from behind.

Steve fell to the floor and dropped his food everywhere. The massive crash made everyone who wasn't already watching turn their heads to the scene.

The small group laughed at Steve as he lay on the floor covered in his food. But he was trying to convince himself he shouldn't beat the shit out of them right now. He wanted to so badly, he couldn't think of anything else. They were assholes, but they weren't allowed to fight outside the gym.

So going against everything his head was telling him, he got up off the floor and walked out, leaving the laughs behind him. He wasn't going to get kicked out for attacking him.

Bucky watched with an inner turmoil in his head. The people around him laughed at Steve fell to the floor. He wanted to go and help him up. But he didn't move. Brock shouldn't be such a dick to everyone.

He watched as Steve stood up and started walking away without even looking back. Bucky wanted to run after him. He didn't laugh. He didn't do anything.

Steve was furious. He couldn't think, his mind full of images of Brock under him as he hit him over and over. He slammed into his room and paced around, breathing heavily And trying to get a single comprehendible thought to go through his head. But whenever he tried, he just got more and more mad.

Eventually he had to do something to get his mind off it. So he did the only thing he knew, and grabbed some sport shorts and a clean T-shirt and ran downstairs to the gym.

As usual, it was empty this time of night so he turned the lights on and walked over to the heaviest bag in the room. He didn't bother to wrap up his hands before he started hitting. To start with it just made him madder, but he found a rhythm and quickly became engrossed in the task.

He hit the bag as hard as he could with every hit and bounced on his toes to make the movements faster. His eyes stayed pointed ahead and his knuckles burned, but he carried on. The anger fuelled him as he punched the bag quickly like he was doing a minute of full intensity. Except this lasted for much longer.

His breaths were coming in harder and he could feel the stretch in his arms and calves. The memory seemed more distant now, but that could have been from the lack of oxygen from all the work.

He finally stopped, leaning against the bag and inhaling sharply. Looking down, he saw big red sores over each one of his knuckles and hissed as he unclenched his hand.

He decided to leave it there and go shower his aching muscles before going back up to his room.

His body always heals quickly from strains, but this might take a couple of days he thought as it hurt to walk down the corridor.

He saw something on the floor outside his room. It turned out to be a tray of food with some plastic wrap over the top. He frowned down at it, thinking it was some stupid joke again, but it looked okay. And seeing as he didn't get any food earlier and he'd just spent way too long downstairs, he was starving.

He opened the door and sat down, shoving the food in his mouth with sore hands. He had no idea who brought him the food but assumed it was one of the people downstairs who makes them. Maybe they say what had happened and brought him some more?
He didn't think much about it as he finished the last bite and immediately lay down, exhausted from the whole day.

Bucky opened his door to walk to the bathroom and noticed the tray he'd put down had gone, and sighed in relief.