On Becoming A Star (Bucky Barnes)

Chapter 5

She regretted that text a few minutes later. After receiving "I'll be there in 30mns", she knew she fucked up. First of all, her place was a total mess. So there she was, quickly tidying it and cleaning it the best she could, in total panic. Second of all, of course she thought about this already, but what if he's a fucking serial killer ? There she was, a ball of anxiety blowing up in her stomach. What was she thinking, giving away her address so quickly and easily ? But his presence felt so safe... But wasn't this the goal of every killer ? To make their victims feel safe so they let their guard down and then boom, another killed woman in Los Angeles ? Their conversations, what would they look like ? Does she have anything interesting to tell ? Does he ? What if they don't know what to say to each other ? She felt ridiculous. Ridiculously dumb. How to kick him out if he acts like a jerk ? She hated herself for being so reckless and stupid. Stopping by her bathroom, she sighed at her reflection in the mirror and tied her hair up so she could cook. What the fuck ? What was she thinking ? She doesn't have anything to cook ! And there he was, ringing her door.

Fuck me.

She sighed, again, then went to the front door to open it widely. He was there. It was him. She forced a sickly smile and got out of the way to let him in.

"Welcome." She whispered.

"Thank you." He answered, quietly.

As he stepped in, he removed his jacket to put it on a chair in the kitchen. It was still weird to see that metal arm, but she would probably get used to it. If he didn't kill her tonight, she'd get used to it eventually. Does he have any weapons ? Man, that arm itself could be a weapon, she thought. His eyes sparkled at the sight of her apartment. What was he thinking ? Was he judging her ? Was he trying to look for her secrets ? Did she have any ? She wondered, quite nervous. So nervous she was playing with her own fingers and its rings, biting her bottom lip. He was looking at every detail, every plants.

"You love plants." Yes, Sherlock.

"I do."

"Oh, I..." He frowned and turned around to face her, just to give her that glass bottle he was holding tightly. "White wine, it's supposed to be sweet, I hope you like it, it's my favourite."

"It'll be perfect." She smiled. "A drink ?"

"Gladly. What are we eating ?" Fuck, fuck, fuck. What is she going to cook ?

"Well, uh..." She frowned, jumping her way to the fridge and opening it quickly. "I can make... lemon pastas."

"Lemon pastas ?"

"Hey ! Try it before you judge it, I was sceptical at first too but my friend Remy is a great cook. I'm not really."

"As long as you don't burn your pasta..."

"Who burns pasta ?"

"I do... sometimes..." She giggles, laughing at him. She hears him chuckles. It's weird. The atmosphere feels weird. Behind the counter, she struggles to open the bottle of wine but somehow manages to succeed and pours them and glass of wine each. She smells it before she tastes it. It smells good. It tastes heavenly. "So, what do you think ?"

"God. It's so good." He looks fierce. "Don't look at me like that !"

"Like what ?" He laughs. She wants to gently and playfully hit him, but he's too far away. Instead, she rolls her eyes up to the sky and grabs what she needs to cook her pasta. The sauce was easy : heavy cream, lemon juice and zest, fresh herbs and parmesan. As the pasta were cooking, he sighs. "I don't really like parmesan."

"You know what ? I hate it too. I think it tastes like vomit."

"But you're–"

"You can barely taste it in the sauce, trust me."