Haven [Marvel | Bucky Barnes]

Chapter 11

Iris realized later that it had been incredibly foolish to believe there'd be no further consequences from what happened when Chris had opened fire on her front stoop.

Oh, she'd known things would change between her and James, and in that she'd certainly been right.

After that first evening on her couch, rarely a night went by where James didn't camp out in her living room, and many of those nights Iris found herself falling asleep next to him whether she meant to or not. More often than not, she'd wake up the next morning carefully tucked into bed, but there was the odd morning where she'd woken to find herself still curled into James' side. Once she'd even returned to the couch and his comforting presence after intending to fall asleep in her own bed; the look in those steel-blue eyes had sent a shiver through her but the tug at the corner of his mouth had eased the anxieties being alone had sent rattling around in her head. He wouldn't join her in her room, though. It was one of those quirks that she'd come to think of as an almost old-fashioned impulse. She knew better than to argue, though, recognizing that it was another of those conventions he seemed raised to adhere to.

When she asked why he didn't return to his apartment to sleep anymore, he'd given her one of those fathomless looks he had and, after a little more prodding, had admitted it made him anxious to leave her at night. Having her nearby calmed him, he'd told her, and gave him something, or someone rather, to focus on and that kept him grounded. Especially since Chris' attack had triggered his programmed aggressive instincts...and, she'd added to herself, a latent protective one. She wasn't even sure he'd realized the protective aspect yet. But Iris had.

Given what he'd revealed, she'd found herself becoming hyper-aware of his behaviors. Quite frequently in the past couple weeks he would always manage to position himself between her and doors, or she'd catch him unconsciously peering out the windows for...something, anything out of the ordinary. One day she even caught him in her little kitchenette all but twirling one of her paring knives around his fingers, his face distant but unsatisfied, as if the balance of the kitchen knife didn't suit whatever he was trying to do. The next day she'd noticed a military-grade knife peeking out from just inside the back waistband of his faded black jeans when he'd been reaching for something, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal the dark handle.

Besides, he'd added with a trace of that mischievous grin, she'd asked him to stay.

But that's not what else she should have expected. What she should have expected approached her on the street barely a month after Chris' drive-by.

"Hey!" Iris paid little attention to the shouted greeting at first, not expecting anyone to be calling out to her on the street as she walked home from a morning shift at the restaurant. But when the voice called again she turned, openly confused as a man strode up to her, a friendly, open look on his face. He was tall and dark-skinned with neatly trimmed facial hair and a pair of sunglasses that he removed as he approached, his expressive eyes squinting a bit in the sun as he did so. There was something about his demeanor that put her at ease, but the measure of economy and control in his gait said to her that he was possibly military; a lot of ex-military guys came into the restaurant and they all had that same sort of bearing. That realization put her right back on guard again.

"Hey, how're you doin'," he repeated, smiling widely as he came to a stop beside her. Iris managed a small 'fine' back, one that he nodded in acknowledgement of before continuing. "You live here, right? In this neighbourhood?" Suddenly growing suspicious Iris nodded, doing her best to keep him from realizing she was uneasy. He smiled again, his hands hooked casually in his front pockets, his posture relaxed.

"Great. That's great. Listen, I'm looking for someone, and I think he's been staying in this area. I've been asking around a bit without much luck. Maybe you've seen him?" Iris was still eyeing him warily, especially as an image of James flashed unbidden through her mind's eyes. So she simply shrugged. She was willing to play along. The more helpful she seemed, the more likely he was to believe she was telling the truth...regardless of whether or not she bent the truth or even if she was forced to lie.