Haven [Marvel | Bucky Barnes]

Chapter 2

It was several days before she saw him again. She was deep in an argument over a very late rent payment with her other tenant, Chris—or was it Conor? Caden? He seemed to change it every time she saw him, which was making her more and more unnerved around him as the days passed. It was getting to the point where she was considering an anonymous call to the cops again to get rid of him like she had to with the last problem tenant she'd had. There was very little chance he wasn't into something illegal, what with the changing name, the sketchy associates, the late night 'meetings' or the odd bags that were either weirdly empty or stuffed full. Iris bit back a frustrated sigh as Chris did his best to stare her down. She didn't know how her aunt had done it. She was getting sick to death of this landlady thing.

It was getting heated enough that Iris was seriously considering cutting her losses and making a tactical retreat. But when the verbal abuse started up—again—something in her snapped and she'd had enough.

"Get out," she said quietly, each word slow and pointed. "I want you out. Consider yourself evicted. Pay up what you owe when you hand in your key and I won't consider calling the police." He only laughed.

And then his hand slammed into the wall next to her head and Chris was leaning in close, using his not insubstantial height and bulk to close her in. She wasn't about to shrink away, though. She'd learned that, in most cases, standing firm in this sort of situation ultimately had whoever it was trying to intimidate her backing off once they realized the tactic of getting up in her personal space wasn't going to work.

But before she could see if Chris was going back off or not, a gloved hand had him by the scruff of the neck and was hauling her problem tenant off his feet and into the wall across the entryway. Iris couldn't help the strangled yelp at the sudden and violent motion. With a crack filling the entryway as the drywall split, Chris crumpled to the ground, his surprised face flying up to latch onto the emotionless one of Iris' as-of-yet nameless tenant. The mystery man loomed over Chris, staring down at him with a cold, intent look in his eye, his gloved fists clenched tight enough that the leather was creaking loudly in the abrupt silence that accompanied his appearance.

With a snarl Chris staggered to his feet and lashed out with one of his own fists. It never reached its mark. With a snap motion the nameless man had easily caught Chris' fist and twisted it away, sending its owner crashing into the wall again. Iris winced not only at the painful sound, but also at the crushed wall panel, now little more than pieces of drywall barely held together by the aging wallpaper. That was not going to come cheap to fix...

His outrage growing, Chris was already preparing to lurch to his feet again when one of those gloved fists closed around the collar of his shirt, jerking him to his feet. Iris' mental repair calculations were shunted clear from her mind as the nameless man all but lifted Chris off his feet with only one hand, leaving only the toes of his expensive sneakers brushing against the ground. The two men were nearly of a height, though Chris was perhaps an inch or two shorter than his adversary. But Chris was not a slight guy, having an additional fifty pounds on the nameless man at least. Which was saying something, since even beneath his loose and hard-worn clothes, the mystery man was all broad, hard muscle. But with one look into the nameless man's face, the crass stream of expletives slowed and froze in his mouth at the cold stare fixed solely on him.

"You will pay her what you owe and leave." The mystery man's voice was soft and cold. Chris' face grew sickly pale as Iris watched in bewildered astonishment, her mouth wide open in a most inelegant way. Then, his lip curling in disdain—the first hint of emotion since he appeared—the nameless man's fist loosened and Chris fell to the ground. With a whimper, he was scrabbling to his feet and bolting down the stairs to the basement apartment he occupied.

Not even breathing heavily, the nameless man watched him go. Only when the door slammed shut with the force of Chris' panic did Iris' rescuer turn to her. A flicker of concern lit in his eyes beneath his charcoal grey ball cap as he looked at her. Iris' mouth slammed shut with an audible snap of her teeth. Still pressed against the wall, she was still nearly too stunned to move, though she could feel the muscles in her calves beginning to tremble. It wouldn't be long before the tremors moved up her body and she was shaking in the aftermath of the adrenaline this man's sudden appearance had sent spiking through her.

"I had it handled," she snapped out involuntarily, her own panic suddenly manifesting in irritation. The corner of his lip twitched and for a split-second Iris was certain he was about to smile. But he did incline his head, ever so slightly, acknowledging her assertion before taking a step back, grabbing up his plastic bag of food—what looked like perhaps two or three cans and a microwave dinner, Iris noticed with a pang—and turning to go.

Hating herself for her snippy reaction, she let her head fall back against the wall with a dull thud before wrestling her pride back under control. She was grateful and apparently she had a horrible way of showing it to this man.

This dangerous, damaged, compelling and, she couldn't deny it, attractive man.

"Thank you," she managed to call out after him. Like the day he'd first appeared on her doorstep, he paused, his head tilting in her direction even if he didn't actually look at her, before continuing on his way and disappearing into his rented apartment.

A/N: Thanks for reading!

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