Harmless (Bucky Barnes)

(iii)

It's Sunday.

He's already asked Steve if he has any spare shields lying around. One deadpan look later he knows that he doesn't.

The only other historical artifact he knows is Steve himself.

And even Bucky knows he won't take too kindly to being carried over his shoulder to be exhibited in front of kids. Again.

He settles on a gun he borrowed from the museum.

Stealing was a strong word to use, considering that he owned the gun prior to it being showcased there. But he wasn't going to give it back for a long time and nothing else fit.

It's not his most prized possession. It's definitely a possession.

Shockingly, and much to everyone's surprise, he doesn't like remembering the war a lot. The people sure, but the war? Not so much. Astonishing, he knows.

The gun itself has rust decorating it. He remembers the dent on the grip, how exactly it got there and how many teeth it knocked out of the other guy's mouth. Bucky always got creative with his weapon usage when he ran out of ammo.

He shrugs and stuffs it haphazardly into his back pocket. It's unloaded, who gave a shit.

The drive to your lair was a little shorter this time. It was early morning, so hopefully, you wouldn't be there. He stops right in front of the door, now repaired, and drops the gun off there on the doorstep.

No note, no context, just left it at the doorway. If you wanted to know its significance or who it was even from, you'd have to figure it out yourself.

You weren't the only one who could be annoying.

He's too dignified to admit how much joy it gave him to be petty.

The week drags on. He goes back to Italy for a two-day mission.

Places like Italy or Romania become second nature to him. He even has restaurants he likes. They don't particularly like him back, but that was still debatable.

The owners know by now not to question it when he drags himself in at night for a bowl of tagliatelle.

He's friends with the old woman who runs one of them. Customers think he's terrifying, hunched over in the corner, nearly dozing off over his meal but she thinks he's sweet. He doesn't talk much, is only occasionally drenched in blood but he leaves a good tip. She couldn't ask for much more.

Friday eventually has him back at your headquarters. He knocks this time.

"Who is it?" A deep voice asks from the intercom above him. It sounds deeply filtered and straight out of a Saw movie.

"Give me back my gun." He squints at the camera.

"Oh, it's you again." The filter switches off almost immediately, your voice taking over.

The door swings open automatically. Definitely a tech upgrade.

He steps in and immediately forgets it was broad daylight outside. It's dark again with the exception of the green beam light right in the front.

"Y'know Barnes, you're horrible at behaving like a normal human being." You sound far off. He can pinpoint you to being at the front of the room but it takes a while for him to adjust.

Not another sound comes from you again. He's starting to wonder you were waiting for a response to his statement.

"Hi," you whisper right into his ear and thank God for the control he has over his reflexes because he would have punted you all the way to Jupiter by now.