Siren Song ~ A Bucky Barnes story

The Apartment

As soon as we make it to the other side, the portal closes. The orange sparks fade away leavening us in total darkness.

I carefully stick my hands out, waving them around in search for a light switch. My palms find a hard surface and I trail my fingers over it.

Quickly after, the lights are switched on.

When my eyes adjust I'm embarrassed to see that I was not, in fact, feeling the wall, but groping Bucky's chest!

Bucky looks down at me, his left hand still on the light switch. He awkwardly clears his throat.

I quickly pull my hands from his chest and back down to my sides. "I-I was looking for the light switch...Sorry." I apologize.

Bucky doesn't seem to care much, his mind seemingly elsewhere.

"Buck I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I just didn't-" I begin but he interrupts.

"I'm going to check the perimeter. When I come back you have a lot of explaining to do." He says, reaching for the door handle.

"No one saw us come here... I think we're fine." I reason.

"Better safe than sorry." He mumbles before leaving, closing the door behind him.

"Ugh." I sigh. I feel so bad for not telling him where I was from sooner. I know I don't really owe him an explanation but I can't help but feel like I betrayed a friends trust.

I slide down the door into a sitting position, mindlessly scratch my nails against the heavily scuffed wood floor. It is definitely in need of a good buff and re-polish.

The whole apartment looks like it needs to be redone now that I think about it. Not that there is much to the apartment anyway.

On my left is an old, worn in, brown leather couch that's starting to split open at multiple seams, off white colored stuffing poking through. On the wall across from it is an old brick fire place. The only other thing on that side of the room is a green area rug. At least I think it's supposed to be green. It's covered in so many stains that I'm not quite sure. I wonder what they are from... looks kinda like... blood?

I grimace at the thought and stand up. Who knows what could be on these floors.

Stepping away from the door I countinue to look around. All the walls of the living room area (if you could even call it that) are covered in a faded floral wallpaper and a singular window covered by black-out curtains on the far left wall. To my right is a small kitchen area. There is a small bar table conected to the wall, cutting the rest of the kitchen off from the room to give it the allusion that it's a separate space. It's very small, only enough room for a fridge, stove, and a sink. All the countertops are covered in so much dust I can't even tell what it's made of. I'm guessing it's been a few years since anyone has been here. I look through the cabinets finding most of them to be empty, until I open the last one to find a bloody scalpel, along with various other torturous looking devices. I shutter and slam the draw closed.

At the same time Bucky comes back in.

"What the hell was this place used for?" I ask, walking over to him.

"It's probably best you don't know." Bucky responds, moving to sit on the couch.

I sit down next to him. "So... where should I start?" I ask.

"Maybe by telling me who the hell you are. And where the hell you came from." His tone isn't harsh but it's firm enough to make me a little nervous. He might not be in winter solider mode right now but he's still not fully Bucky yet.