Red meets Blue

Chapter 4: Barry

"Ughhhhhhhhhh."

I groan and open my eyes, trying to figure out where I am. As soon as I attempt sitting up, however, pain slams into me like a semi truck and I fall back with another groan.

After whining like a proper superhero, I look around the room. I'm on an old, sagging couch. It's the only piece of furniture other than a coffee table, and even that looks like the kind you'd find on the side of the road with a cardboard 'free' sign on it. The whole room looks like that, actually. A vaguely thrift store/hoarder/detective sorta deal. That last bit was due to the newspaper clippings, lines of yarn and other miscellaneous papers covers in messy writing. I squint a little to read one close to me.

It's a name, along with something else written over and over. Scribbled out, crossed out, re-written, torn off and taped back on. Clearly whoever wrote it is very indecisive. The name is scrawled across the page in huge block letters, but I can see two more words in this pattern. I make out friend and mission from the mess. The name only takes my seconds to decipher. STEVE. Who's Steve? I don't have a clue, and apparently neither does the author.

The whole room is covered in stuff like this, all connected with strings and sticky notes. It looks like something straight out of CSI or something. I can see the same few faces cropping up again and again, too. It's Tony Stark and some blond guy who kinda...wait is that...? No, no way it's him. Why would this guy have pictures of Cap-

My train of thought is interrupted as someone enters the room. It's the guy from the warehouse, the one I saw before blacking out. Heart beating at a normal pace once more, I watch cautiously as he sets down a tray on the table in front of me. We finally make eye contact, and I realize he's just as nervous as I am. Also, he's absolutely stunning. Like, underwear model/movie star/sex god gorgeous. A slightly disheveled, scruffy god but still.

He keeps running his fingers back through his matted hair and biting his lip. The level of uncomfortable builds to an overwhelming point and I decide to break the ice.

"Hi." I say, softly. He doesn't fully smile, but he doesn't not smile either. "Uh, I'm Barry." Still no reply. "Do you, like, speak English? Can you understand me?"

"Y-yes, sorry, I know English. Sorry, I'm a little rusty at this whole thing. Like, talking to people." He smiles weakly at me. He's quiet for a moment and then seems to remember something. "Oh, right. I'm Bucky, by the way." I notice his chin lift up a little at the end; he's proud of his name, apparently.

"Alright, cool." I reply. "So, tell me, Bucky. Why did you bring me here? How did you find me? Did you fix my leg? Where are we?" My intent was to be all cool and collected but once I asked one question the rest just spilled out. Classic me.

Bucky chuckles a little and takes a breath before replying.

"Well, for starters, I brought you here because you'd've bled out in that warehouse if I hadn't. I found you 'cause I was walking by and heard all that commotion. Didn't mean to take home a stray, but here we are. Anyway, yes I fixed your leg and we're in my apartment." He says, a certain expressionless efficiency to his voice. Like he's giving a report.

I mean to say something more coherent but what comes out is, "You live here?" Bucky gives me a little half shrug. I take in some more of my surroundings. From where I am I can just see the edge of the kitchen and a hallway, and down there...

"Aaaah." I gasp in pain. Apparently my leg was strongly against the idea of sitting up too far.

"Woah, take it easy, sport." Bucky materializes at my side. Sport? How old was this guy? "You've still got a severe flesh wound. Looks like its healing pretty fast, but let's rest for a bit, yeah?" I murmur my assent and Bucky gives me the ghost of a smile. A potentially problematic though crosses my mind.

"Hey, Bucky..."

"Don't worry, kid. You can stay here as long as you need. Let me know how to get a hold of your friends and we'll get you sorted. But I'm with you-" He hesitates, confusion covering his chiseled features. His expression clears, however and he continues like it never happened. "I'm here to help you, as long as you want me to."

"Thanks, Bucky."

"No problem, Barry."