𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙼𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 ~ Steve Rogers

Our Old Ways ~ 34

Evangeline lingers in her room throughout the night, the minutes ticking by as the rest of the team gradually disperses from the dining table, bidding farewell to the evening. An hour drifts past, the quiet of her surroundings broken only by the steady rhythm of her breath. Restless, she finds herself atop her bed, the weight of blankets beneath her as she gazes upward, lost in contemplation, pondering how she's stumbled into such a predicament with these Avengers.

A sharp rap at the door jerks her attention away from the ceiling, and she frowns, choosing to ignore the intrusion. Yet, the knock persists, a persistent drumming against the wood. "Je dors!" she exclaims, feigning slumber, though her voice carries a hint of annoyance. Despite her protest, the door swings open, disregarding her protest, and Bucky steps inside. With a resigned sigh, Evangeline props herself up, casting a deliberate glare in his direction as she flicks on the bedside lamp, illuminating her displeasure.

Bucky disregards her initial reception with a casual shrug. "What? You're obviously not sleeping," he insists, his tone carrying a hint of amusement.

"I was trying to," she retorts, her voice tinged with annoyance. "What do you want?"

Bucky strolls leisurely around the room, his hands casually picking up objects as he speaks, delaying her question until he finally turns to face her, leaning against the dresser with his back to it. "I wanted to apologize for earlier," he admits.

Eva's narrowed gaze softens into a curious glance. "And this couldn't wait until tomorrow?"

"Well, if you don't want my apology..." Bucky trails off, feigning a slow retreat from the room. Eva lets out a deep sigh, rolling her eyes as she slips off the bed to stand.

"Why are you here, James?" she asks resignedly, her voice a soft echo in the dimly lit room.

"To apologize?" he utters back, his brows furrowing in confusion, his silhouette framed against the faint glow of the lamp.

"Non," Eva corrects him, her gaze penetrating, searching for something deeper in his eyes. The air feels heavy with unspoken tension, her arms folding across her chest, a subtle barrier between them amidst the intimate space. "Why are you here? At this safehouse," she presses, her words hanging in the air like a delicate thread, waiting to be pulled taut.

Bucky shifts uncomfortably, inching a little closer into the room. His eyes briefly flit to the floor before returning to meet Eva's, their depths betraying a hint of unease.

"Because it was an order," he murmurs, the words heavy with the weight of obligation.

"Oh, I didn't realize you were still in the business of following orders," Eva's tone drips with sarcasm, her words a barb that finds its mark, evident in the flicker of irritation that flashes across Bucky's expression.

"I'm not," he grits out, his frustration simmering beneath the surface as he meets her gaze squarely.

"So, why are you here?" Eva repeats slowly, longing out each individual word.  

There's a prolonged silence between them, tension thickening the air like a suffocating fog, until Bucky finally breaks it with a heavy, agitated sigh. "Why do you think I'm here, Eva?" His voice carries a palpable edge of exasperation, the frustration evident in the way his words slice through the stillness of the room. "You vanish for years after Vienna only to resurface as if nothing has happened, accompanied by a damn robot!" He exhales sharply, his disbelief underscored by the shake of his head. "And let's not forget your constant flirty eyes you keep giving my best friend," he grumbles, his tone tinged with a mixture of irritation and resignation.

His last comment catches Evangeline off guard, prompting an incredulous laugh to escape her lips. "Pardon? I do no such thing," she protests, her disbelief writ large across her features as her brows furrow in confusion.