Hell Bound

Thirty-One

We were still sitting on the kitchen floor when Graham walked in. Neither of us had spoken since Bucky verbalized his latest suspicion. Graham halted in the doorway and looked down at us with confusion.

"Why are you on the floor? Is this a thing we're doing now?" he asked. He still had his book in his hands. Bucky shot him an irritated glare and stood up in one quick motion. He reached his arm down to help me to my feet, and I hobbled to his side.

"Just putting stuff away," I explained, brushing off my jeans. Then I turned to the sink to find something else to clean.

"You know I have some shirts you could probably borrow. They might be kinda small, but—that's probably better than being half naked all the time. I would imagine anyway." I spun back around.

"Do you not have extra clothes in your backpack?" I asked Bucky. He shook his head slowly.

"No," he admitted.

"What do you carry in that thing then?" He didn't answer, but he looked at me, and I guess he just didn't want to say it in front of Graham. "I ripped apart your only shirt?" He nodded. "I still have the ones I bought you last time you were here."

"You bought me shirts?"

"You had even less than you have now. You kept borrowing Steve's stuff, which looked a bit ridiculous on you. I'll go see if I can find them." I headed toward the hallway and passed Graham.

"Is there any reason you didn't tell me this before?" Bucky asked before I could leave. I spun back around and smiled. He asked it in a very casual but almost suspicious tone. He was standing in my kitchen, not wearing a shirt. Looking goddamn beautiful in the late afternoon sunlight. I took a deep breath as I drank him in. I thought it was pretty obvious why I didn't tell him.

"Take one guess," I said innocently. Then I turned back into the hall.

"Put me out of my misery," Graham muttered.

"I can do that," Bucky offered.

"For fuck's sake. I was joking."

"Damn."

I headed up the stairs to my bedroom. When Bucky stayed with me before, I bought him a few changes of clothes so that he didn't have to keep borrowing Steve's. Mainly because Steve was going through a khakis phase, and they looked ridiculous on Bucky. But of course he'd left without them. When I got back from Malibu, I came across them while emptying my storage unit. I'd stuffed them into the back of the closet to stay out of sight. I wasn't even sure why I kept them around. Maybe I was hoping he'd be back.

I had to dig my way into the closet to find the backpack, which was why I hadn't bothered to look for it before now. Or at least that's what I was going to tell myself. Because I was still thinking of how Bucky looked in my kitchen before I'd come up. I managed to drag the entire backpack out onto the bedroom floor. It was heavy with more than just Bucky's clothes, and I couldn't remember what else I'd stuffed in there until I unzipped it. Aside from his clothes, there was a thick, heavy roll of black leather.

I'd almost forgotten about them. I knew I still had them somewhere, but I couldn't remember where I'd put them or why I'd even shoved them into the backpack with Bucky's clothes.

I unrolled the pack and looked over the set of shiny black titanium throwing knives. I hadn't taken them out since Russell gave them to me, but I could see they were just as sharp and deadly. I slid one out of its pocket. The edges were sharp and razor-thin.