'𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐈 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐄, 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔.'
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Even if every memory from 1917 comes roaring back to you, being a former Hydra assassin means you can never get a break. Since Beverly is on a mission of redemption, she respo...
My hands are covered in soap suds, the skin smooth with the clear liquid. I have my hands deep in the sink, washing the plates and cutlery. Morgan, who stands on her stepping stool, grabs the plate after I wash it, placing it in its respective place. We work together to get the job done quickly, cleaning all the dishes after using them for breakfast. I have only been here for a day and a little bit, but Pepper and Morgan have already made me feel welcome here. Especially Morgan, who acts with me like I'm her older sister. We fight like it too. Like we are right now.
Morgan constantly says that she would be better at cleaning than drying and putting the dishes away, but I keep disagreeing. I just know that she wants to throw the bubbles at me. She has said on multiple occasions that Pepper doesn't allow her to do it because she makes more of a mess than cleaning. And, I don't plan on ruining the kitchen.
There is a knock at the door, clear from how close the kitchen is to the front door. I don't stop my actions, but move my head to the side, trying to see who it is. There is a silhouette of two bodies outside the door, the foggy glass in the middle of the wood. Morgan looks excited that there is someone here to visit her.
"I'll get it." Pepper calls out.
I can hear the door open, and turn my head back to face the sink, continuing to clean the remaining dishes. When there is only a few left, I turn to Morgan, taking the cloth from her hands, and placing a stray piece of hair behind her ear that fell from her ponytail. She looks confused but blushes at my loving action. There is murmuring from the front door, and I can't help but ask Morgan for this.
"Why don't you go and see who Mommy is talking to."
"Okay." She smiles.
Morgan waddles through the doorframe, holding onto her dungaree straps. I can hear even more muttering, but continue to clean, dry, and put away the last spoons and forks. There is a knock on the kitchen door frame, and I dry my hands before turning around to face the noise. My body tenses and my fists clench at the sight.
"Beevy, they are here for you." Morgan smiles innocently.
Stood behind Morgan, like two kids being brought to the principles office, being told off, are Bucky and Sam. Bucky doesn't make eye contact with me as I glare at him. Sam, on the other hand, has a warm smile on his face, making me slightly calm down. He was put in the middle of the argument between Bucky and me.
"Morgan," I turn to look at her. "Why don't you show me the painting you've been working on?"
"Okay," Morgan reaches for my hand, dragging me out of the kitchen.
