𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 - 𝓑𝓾𝓬𝓴𝔂 𝓑𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓼 [1]

17. {Engulfed in Flames}

You stand near the counter, still cradling the cup of coffee in your hands. The silence that follows Bucky's dramatic exit is deafening, the echo of the slamming door still ringing in your ears. The argument plays on a loop in your mind, each harsh word and pointed accusation leaving a bitter aftertaste.

Taking a deep breath, you try to steady your nerves. The fight had drained you, leaving you feeling raw and exposed. You take a sip of the coffee, the familiar bitterness offering a small measure of comfort. Glancing around Bucky's apartment, you realize there's no point in waiting for him to return. He won't be back anytime soon.

You set the cup down and head to the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face in an attempt to wash away the remnants of the argument. As you look at your reflection in the mirror, you see the weariness in your eyes, the toll that these constant clashes with Bucky have taken. With a sigh, you dry your face and return to the living room.

Gathering your clothes, you slip them back on, trying to push down the lingering frustration. It's time to leave, to put some distance between you and the storm that's just passed. You glance down at your attire — the same evening dress and heels you wore the night before. The idea of walking back home in this, feeling exposed and vulnerable, doesn't sit well with you.

As you zip up your jacket, you pull out your phone and decide to text Natasha. "Hey, you wouldn't happen to still be in NY? I need a lift home?"

The response comes quickly, almost as if she was expecting it. "At Steve's. So is Barnes."

You roll your eyes, both at Natasha's quick response and the fact that Bucky has already found his way to Steve's to likely vent about you. It's typical of him, running to his best friend whenever things get tough. And it's typical of Natasha to be at Steve's, confirming what you had suspected about her whereabouts last night.

"Of course he is. Can you still pick me up?"

"Sure, I'll be there in 10. Hang tight."

You put your phone away and take one last look around Bucky's apartment. The memories of last night, the brief moments of peace and connection before the storm, linger in the corners of the room. You shake your head, pushing those thoughts aside, and head to the door.

The cool air outside is a welcome change from the stuffiness of the apartment. You stand on the sidewalk, waiting for Natasha, the city buzzing around you. The wait gives you time to think, to reflect on what you really want from this complicated relationship with Bucky. The fighting is exhausting, but the moments of understanding and connection, for some strange reason, keep you holding on.

Soon enough, you see Natasha's car pulling up. She rolls down the window and gives you a small, knowing smile. "Hop in," she says.

You slide into the passenger seat, the warmth of the car enveloping you. "Thanks for picking me up," you say, closing the door behind you and sinking into the seat with a deep sigh.

"No problem," Natasha replies, a slight smirk playing on her lips. "Better than being stuck inside with those two right now, trying to decipher your actions." She remarks and you offer her a sideways glance as you click your seatbelt into place.

"So," she starts, her tone casual but with an undercurrent of curiosity, "I would ask what happened this time, but think I got the full scoop from Barnes, already."

Her words elicit another sidelong glance from you, your expression reflecting your lack of enthusiasm. "Well, I'd rather not hear whatever harsh truths you've likely been dishing out to him, thanks." You reply, your focus on the road ahead as you observe the morning traffic. The muted chatter of the police radio, a familiar feature in Natasha's car, provides a subtle backdrop, a precaution she always takes.