Winter's Touch

Winter's Touch; Chapter Seven

Seven; Disguise.

{A Winter Soldier Fic}

You stirred from your sleep groggily and opened your eyes-still covered in the coat of sand that had first been placed in the early hours after you left the last hotel. You reached out and stretch, a pleased groan escaping your throat at the liberation of your tightened muscles. You went on to rub your eyes and push your drooping hair from your face, stifling a yawn by biting your lip. You sat straight, pushing yourself up with your hands on the leather beneath you. You turned to look at your captor. He was wearing that mask again. You wondered why he was so attached to it. Did it hold something sentimental? Was he trying not to let a feral animal out? Or something more severe? His own identity? Your mind wandered at this. Who was he, really? You didn't even know his name. 'Your Captor?' Couldn't you call him something other than that?

You stared at him for awhile, trying to think of name possibilities. But everything that crossed your mind didn't sound right. Your brows furrowed and you finally let out what you were going to say.

"Do you have a name?" He didn't answer, only kept his eyes on the road. Your curiosity started to ebb away as the silence between you stretched, and soon it had vanished. You sighed and turned your own eyes back to the road as well. You turned away from him, looking out of the window on your side. Resting your head in your hand, you watched as the world's landscape pass you by. Probably trying to keep his identity as secret as possible. You scoffed at yourself. Did you really think he would tell you anything? You wrapped your arms tighter around you and thought it a good idea to go back to sleep, but just as you went to close your eyes, you heard him murmur something.

"What?" You turned your head to look at him. He spoke again without returning your gaze, still focusing on the long stretch of deserted asphalt before you.

"Barnes," he said, now tilting his head to glance at you from under his disheveled hair. Barnes, you thought. It couldn't possibly be his real name. He wouldn't give as much. But you concealed your unbelieving glance and accepted his ruse, not expecting him to fess up, even if you asked for his real name.

You both sat in silence for a great while after this, just studying the things outside the glass. You paid careful attention to as many road signs as you could, building up information to use after all of this was over. You began to see more houses and businesses than exits and four-ways. But what caught your eye was the tall, two mile building he pulled up towards when it came into complete view.

"Where are we?"  You asked softly, and didn't get an answer until the car pulled up and parked behind a long row of large trees, concealing its existence.

"Scylladine Industries. I need to find something," he said and went to leave the car, before you gently yet firmly grabbed ahold of his arm, not wanting to trigger any wrath from him. He turned and his face gave off the impression of a snarl hiding beneath his mask, so you let go, but still looked at him with urgency.

"Are you planning on stealing from them?" You asked, glancing out of your window at the front entrance-plagued with heavily armed guards and watchdogs. "Whatever you're looking for, I doubt they're going to invite you in and hand it to you," you said, giving his suspicious choice of wardrobe a once-over before meeting his eyes again.

"That's what machine guns are for, sweetheart," he growled out at you--not for one second genuinely meaning the little endearment he gave you.

"And then what? A trail of every police cruiser in the state and S.W.A.T. vans galore trying to track the tags?" you asked, not fond of the idea of a shootout with yourself anywhere in range. He narrowed his eyes at you and you could see his nose scrunch up in annoyance.

"Then what do you want me to do, Einstein?" He asked, and you felt your face almost match the severe annoyance of his own. You pursed your lips and shrugged your shoulders in a sarcastic way. "Oh, I don't know, maybe change into something that doesn't make you look like you're on the way to kill the president," your brows lifted as you gave an idea that you thought might be obvious already. He stared at you for a moment--that same look of annoyance in his eyes--before he sat back down into the car and shut the door behind him. Your face returned to its normal state of rest as he put it in drive and pulled away from Scylladine.

*

You arrived at a large shopping mall about fifteen minutes later and stepped out onto the pavement, watching him as he did the same. He started to walk, but again you stopped him with a gentle hand on the arm. You motion to his mask and he reached up to remove it, without ever removing his gaze from yours. He tugged it off and threw it back into the car, and continued on to enter your place of brief refuge.

You checked out a series of stores and Barnes scrunched up his nose at about every one. But you reminded him that he couldn't stroll straight into that facility, knowing he definitely wouldn't ask politely for what he was looking for. He reluctantly agreed in the form of gentle growls. You both looked around for nearly two hours and had almost given up hope, but fortunately you obtained the satisfactory clothes for the both of you. You grabbed yourself a rather plain white tee, not wanting to draw attention with excessive glamor. A pair of jeans and a black hoodie worked as well, along with a pair of sneakers. For Barnes, you grabbed a red and black flannel and a dark pair of jeans, as well as a hoodie and shoes for him. You both bought backpacks for yourselves and basic necessities--foods, waters, toiletries and whatnot, all without making barely a dent in your funds. You walked out and climbed back into your car, returning to Scylladine. But when you got there, an urgent question crossed your mind.

"Shouldn't we have changed before coming here?" you asked. Your heart was racing. Did he not think about that? He turned and looked at your reddened face and raised his brows. "What? Afraid you might like something you see?" He asked, but though it sounded like a playful question, his voice was not chipper. It
was more mocking. Your face reddened even more, in embarrassment and mutual annoyance. Was he annoyed by your entire existence? He made you feel like an obnoxious little kid that drove their older, easily frustrated counterpart crazy. It made you feel a little down, and you asked yourself why. Why do I feel the need to satisfy him? Possibly because if he became too irritated with you he would remove you from his presence in the worst possible way. But then he made you feel completely different, but before you could linger on that, he began to take his old shirt off.

Your face flushed redder than before and turn to look away, out of the passenger's side window. It was  a futile attempt to clear your mind, but your thoughts were far from calm. You could remember when you first saw his physique. It was something to put Adonis to shame, and your mind was at conflict with how you should react.

You saw him in the reflection of your window--finally pulling his new shirt on to conceal his flesh. You almost made it to the point of being calm again, but your eyes almost popped out of your head when you saw him reach for his belt.

You shot out of your seat--throwing the door open and stepping out, slamming it closed and leaning against it. You stood there; face so red it would put the devil in his place. You focused on anything but the car until you heard a knock behind you. You turned and hesitantly looked through the window, almost squinting to keep from seeing something you didn't want to. But he was done--all dressed and shiny new. You caught yourself before you could start staring and crawled back into the car, sitting down yourself. He didn't seem as formidable now, and you thought it best to keep it that way. You almost didn't notice that he had tied his hair back with a tiny elastic and placed a ball cap on his head as he climbed out himself--leaving you to tend to your own business. At least he acted like a gentleman when it counted most.

You made quick work of your own clothes--pulling on everything as quick as possible. You step out of the car, locking it and waiting for his say so. When he started stalking over towards the building, you followed--  glancing around and once again praying this wouldn't be the last day in your skin.