Touch Me I'm Going to Scream // [Stucky]

Chapter 5

As already stated, coming to is never a pleasant experience and this time is no different. The Soldier summons strength from where shouldn't be any left and rolls to his side, just in time for the sick to dribble to the floor and not choke him to death. Though there isn't much sick so he would've survived the unpleasant experience.

Allowing himself a second, the Soldier flops to his back and tries to breathe. When he finally takes a look around, the Soldier finds himself in a windowless room. It's large and with one more bed that looks two sizes bigger than a king; apart from that, there isn't a lot of furniture. Vision still blurred, the Soldier spots two full bookshelves, a couch with a coffee table in front of it, a dresser, and two closed doors, one of them which he supposes must lead to a bathroom.

The Soldier needs an embarrassing amount of time to drag his body to the edge of the bed, elbow digging into his thigh when he slumps forward. Using the bedside table to prop himself, the Soldier rises to his tired legs. He spots the cameras right away even if they're hidden. He feels like waving at them but thinks it wiser not to taunt his captors. He should just wait for HYDRA to find him. Looking at the bed—it even has blankets which he was lying over—the Soldier has a fleeting thought: Do I want them to find me?

His brain discards the notion pretty quickly. It's ingrained in him the reality that he does what his handlers need. That's a weapon's purpose and he's meant to be the best weapon. He should be proud of it—he has shaped the century.

Entering the bathroom, the Soldier stares at the big bathtub. The part of him that remembers his training and programming, that knows he's not meant to use a bathtub or a shower, forces him to search the room for a hose. There isn't one so he steps near the tub and hovers over it, a knot forming in his stomach. He reminds himself for the nth time that these people, even if they're the enemy

(who's enemy?)

they aren't HYDRA. No one here has forbidden him from washing off. Rules are different here.

The Soldier sits on the rim, legs threatening to fail him, and turns on the water.

"Excuse me, Mr. Winter Soldier," says a voice.

The Soldier jumps, startled, bruises and cuts protesting when skin tugs at them. The Soldier looks around but finds it empty except for himself. He scowls up at the white ceiling.

"Who?" He's not sure if his grunt was intelligible, voice gruff from disuse.

"Hello, my name is J.A.R.V.I.S. I'm Mr. Stark's Artificial Intelligence," the British voice introduces itself. The Soldier's eyes widen a fraction at the last two words. Somehow, he knows what that is... and he finds it fascinating.

"Hi." Unintelligible, again.

The Soldier cups his hand and fills it with cold water so he can drink it and clear his throat.

"Mr. Winter Soldier, I would advise for you not to wash yet," the voice informs but the Soldier knows it's not a mere suggestion. He turns off the water, containing his face from making a disappointed expression or his lungs emptying themselves in a sigh.

He's getting up from the tub when J.A.R.V.I.S. speaks again. "Mr. Stark needs a sample of the substance coating your wounds. If you wait a moment, I'll send for someone to bring you the utensils needed so you can do it yourself. If you don't collaborate I will have to inform Mr. Stark and the rest of Avengers present in the Tower so they can take the necessary measures."

The Soldier stares dumbfounded at the ceiling. He nods his understanding.

"Very well," the voice finishes saying and the room falls silent once again. The Soldier kind of feels the absence of the cordial voice like something physical that's been removed from the place. It was soothing to listen to. If the Soldier didn't know better, he wouldn't have guessed that he was being held captive.