Ready to Comply: A Bucky Barnes Fanfic

Two ~ Strange

Bucky was not lying about his apartment. It was not much of an upgrade from my hotel room, but the bathroom was definitely better, and though the place was small, I could get used to it.

"Do you want anything to eat?" he asks as we walk in.

I shake my head and continue taking in my new surroundings. There is a couch in the living room, but no TV. Looks like there will be a lot of awkward silences in the future. At least, until we get used to each other. But at this point I do not know if I want to get used to him. He seems guarded, which makes me wonder why he offered me his home in the first place. I try not to think too hard about it and just be thankful I have somewhere to sleep at night. For the time being, I guess we'd have to get used to each other.

"So... no TV, huh? You don't care to know what's going on in this world?"

"I know enough." he says, almost to himself, leaning over the counter as he makes himself a sandwich in the kitchen.

Okay, different topic. "So where do you work?"

"Actually, I do not have a job at the moment."

"Really? What do you do all day, then?"

"I find things to keep myself occupied." he says quickly.

I raise an eyebrow. "You're not much of a conversationalist, are you?" I say with a smile.

"I guess not." He almost smiles, but seems lost in thought.

"Well neither am I normally, but I would like to know about the person I'm gonna be living with. Where are you from?"

He thinks a bit too long about this one. "Brooklyn. New York. That's where I grew up."

"Wow, that must have been cool. I've never been to New York. Is it as crowded and chaotic as they say?"

"Well, not exactly. At least, I don't remember it being too crazy, but it's been a while."

"How old were you when you left?"

He narrows his eyes, staring past me, concentrating on something far away. "In my twenties I think."

"You think?"

"Well... a lot has happened since then."

I sense he does not want to talk about it, possibly because he briskly walks out of the room after that. I shift in my seat on the couch, worried, wondering if I said something weird or rude. I know I'm not great at talking to guys, but I don't think I'm that bad. Oh well.

He gives me the bed and sleeps on the couch – a very unexpected move. Having the whole bed to myself feels weird, and I have trouble sleeping. Plus, the couch is awfully small for his large frame, and I can't imagine him sleeping on there. He says he doesn't mind every time I ask, which was quite frequently. I suppose he's being a gentleman. I bit old fashioned, I think to myself.

During the day we take turns leaving the house, one of us always gone, though neither of us has much of an agenda considering we are both unemployed. I think we both want to avoid having any awkward conversations. I try not to overanalyze him, but I am pretty good at contemplating on people's moves once I spend enough time with them – small things like the way they walk or what they consistently wear. I can't help it. Maybe it's the journalist in me.

I do notice that he never takes his jacket and gloves off – this quickly becomes apparent. I never see him in less than that. He closes the door before we go to bed or when he goes to shower, and I assume he takes them off then, but as the third day passes by and we happen to be home at the same time, I notice it more. I also notice he doesn't get close enough to be within arm's reach. If I'm passing him, he keeps at least six inches between us so our arms don't brush. If I'm sitting on the couch, he'll sit at a chair in the kitchen instead. Was I that unpleasant to be around? Or did he just have some weird fetish about touching? I try to ignore it, but one week in it begins to bother me. At this point we haven't had many conversations past how our day has been. But I'm getting impatient.