A/N

Wattpad's been acting up lately, if you've noticed, and Draconian had recently vanished into that empty black hole in cyberspace. So if you're able to see this chapter, please let me know here?

Thanks loves. Anyone seen Spiderman yet?

x Noelle

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0 4

д о б р о с е р д е ч н ы й

(benign)

SAM WASN'T HAPPY to see the bruises on Dakota's neck. She'd tried her best to cover it up with as much concealer as she could, but the dark bruises still showed through, and the look on Sam's face was livid when he saw them.

Fortunately, he'd wisely kept his mouth shut during the drive back home, and the car was filled with a tense silence that even Steve couldn't dissipate. Sam was fuming, Bucky was staring blankly out of the window with waves of guilt practically radiating off him, while Dakota and Steve were exchanging worried glances through the rearview mirror.

But the moment they were home, Sam lost it. He bruised his knuckles punching Bucky square in the jaw, a move that the latter didn't even attempt to deflect, and then started launched into a heated argument with Steve, who refused to hear a word about Bucky moving out.

" – twice!" Sam was saying resolutely. Both he and Steve were in the kitchen, their stances equally stubborn and unrelenting. "He hurt her twice, and I will not – I will not – stand here and watch it happen again!"

"It won't – "

"Oh, no, don't you say that. Don't say it if you can't make a promise that it won't happen again. She's like my sister, Steve, you don't fuck around with my sister and get away with it."

"I know you're concerned about her and so am I. But he's my best friend. He's got nowhere else to go."

"We've been through this! You chased and covered for him during the Sokovia Accords. I went along because I knew it was the right thing to do. But this? What part of this is right?"

She started for the kitchen to tell Sam that it was alright. Bucky could stay. He was dangerous, but he couldn't leave. She couldn't let him leave. That urge to help anyone lost, broken or sad was ingrained in her nature, and she wanted to help him.

She cast another glance at Sam and Steve, before turning back to the living room. Then paused when she saw that the place was empty. After a quick glance over to the shared bathroom and the other rooms, she realised that Bucky was gone.

She didn't even think.

She grabbed her coat and cell, then rushed out of the house, taking the stairs instead of the elevator. Cold wind nipped at her face as she hurried down the street, but she didn't care. Three streets down, she found him. A backpack she didn't remember him having was slung across his shoulder; the hood of his jacket pulled over his head. He headed across the junction, avoiding people with his head lowered.

"James!" Her voice was loud enough to be carried by the wind.

He stopped.

Sighing in relief, she ran up to him and stopped when she was several feet away. "Hey." She placed a hand on his arm, then backtracked when he tensed. He looked anywhere but at her, and his jaw was clenched. "Where're you going?"

He didn't speak for several long moments. Then he swallowed and lowered his head. "Away."

"Why?"

"Not safe."

She knew what he meant, but she tried again. "I thought we'd already established that. Isn't that why you told Sam you'd come along this morning? Because the world's not safe?"

"No." He finally lifted his head to meet her gaze, and she felt her breath catch at the turbulence in his eyes. The blue in his eyes were so faded it almost bordered on a stormy grey and he looked like he was on the verge of breaking down. "Because I'm not safe for you. For all of you," he added, after a moment's pause.

"You know," she started slowly, "those aren't the only two times someone's grabbed me by the throat."

His eyes narrowed. "Who?"

"An ex-boyfriend." She waved a dismissive hand, her lips tilting up in an amused smile when she saw the furious look on Bucky face. For all his indifference, he sure was easy to rile up at times. "Called the cops on him for that incident. But then there were a couple of other patients too. Some tried to hit me to vent their frustrations, others called me all sorts of terrible things. And after awhile, I realised that these people aren't so much threats as they are scared of what's threatening them. I don't think it's any different for you. Look – Sam will be okay once he's done yelling," she added. "And he knows better than anyone else that I can handle these things on my own. He's an Avenger; I'm a therapist. The job description's pretty different, but when it all comes down to it, we're both willing to jeopardise our safety if we can help someone who needs it."

Hesitation flickered across his face. She took that as encouragement to step forward, until she stood mere inches away. He stilled when he seemed to realise how close they were.

"I'm not afraid of you," she finished softly, keeping her voice low enough so that only he could hear. "But I'm afraid of what haunts you. So if you'd let me, I can help you through this."

Bucky still didn't respond. But she noticed the tension ease off his shoulders. Just one more push.

"There's this café nearby that serves really amazing soufflé. You ever tried that?" She laughed when he gave her a strange look. "Come on, it's my treat." She started to walk, then paused when she realised he hadn't moved. She held out a hand to him. "Come on."

It took him several seconds of deliberation before he finally took a step forward, then another, and another, until he was closing the distance between them. Her smile widened when he reached for her with his normal hand, his long fingers intertwining through hers, the warmth from his skin comforting and addictive all at once.

The walk to the café was silent and tense. Bucky's hand was relaxed around hers, but he still held himself stiffly. When they got to the café, he chose a booth where he could see both the front and side doors, and the bathroom and kitchen exits. As the waiter leaned closer to her to take her order, Bucky tensed all over again.

"It's okay," she told Bucky quietly, but shifted away from the waiter all the same, well aware that the man was far too close for her own comfort. Then she glanced up in surprise when Bucky shifted his hand across the table, sliding his fingers through hers. He was staring at the menu so intently that she almost smiled. But she stopped herself and simply nodded at the waiter. "He'll have the same."

The waiter left and Bucky withdrew his hand. The sudden loss of heat made her shiver. She folded her arms on the table and followed his gaze. He was staring at a man several tables away, slicing into a steak with both knife and fork in his hands. Bucky turned back to her, noticed her watching him, and quickly lowered his head.

She smiled. "You've been at war for so long that you've forgotten what it's like to feel safe. I've met war veterans at the facility and they're like you. Including Sam. I've no doubt Steve acts the same way too."

"It's not the same."

"Maybe not," she acceded, remembering his metal arm and how he seemed to have far more nightmares than Sam and Steve combined. She knew they'd all seen some pretty horrific things during war. But Bucky's experiences seemed far worse. "Tell me," she said instead, her voice light and teasing this time, "how was the old Bucky like?"

"What?"

"The old Bucky. Back in the 1940s, before the war. When he was sitting opposite a girl in a café, was he a proper gentleman, or did he pull some fancy moves on her? Or did she have to be a blond bombshell to get his notice?"

"He liked brunettes," Bucky's reply was unexpectedly swift. She was just teasing, but she didn't expect that he would meet her gaze squarely, one corner of his lips tilted up in a hint of a smirk that was almost daring. "Likes brunettes."

A flush crept across her cheeks. Who knew that this quiet, tortured man had it in him to be so smooth?

"But I don't remember much," Bucky continued, after a moment's pause. His voice was lower now, and he was studying the table with a fixed intensity. "My memory was always wiped before I could begin to recall."

Her breath caught. This was the first time he'd ever mentioned his past to her. She wanted to know more, but it didn't matter if he never told her. He'd tell her however much he wanted to tell, whenever he wanted to, and she'd always listen.

"It's okay," she said softly and reached across the table. His metal hand was hidden under a napkin, and she wondered if he hid it because he was afraid of people noticing it or ashamed of it. She brushed her hand across his knuckles, feeling cold metal under her fingertips. "You just need to find a way to merge the person you were with the person you became. Once you find that equilibrium, you'll know who you are."

And she wasn't surprised when he shifted this time, turning his hand so that his palm was facing up, his large metal fingers looping through hers and his thumb sliding across her skin.

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Dakota was right. After Sam's temper had simmered over, he contented himself with giving several stern warnings to Bucky, before he let the matter drop. But as the days went by, she noticed that something else had changed.

Steve was the first to show signs of it, when he brought a stray kitten home one afternoon. Dakota had cooed appropriately, while Sam immediately whipped out his cell, claiming that it was too classic a picture of Captain America "Do-Gooder" to pass up.

Bucky, on the other hand, had tried to throw the cat out of the window.

"It's not a trap, Buck," Steve insisted, saving the cat from Bucky's clutches when the latter held it up by its hind-legs. "Stop inspecting it, unless you're trying to find out its gender."

"Boy," Bucky returned shortly, before sitting down on the couch next to Dakota. She tried to ignore the way his leg was pressed up against hers, his arm stretched across the back of the couch behind her. Bucky had become frightfully comfortable with her as time passed, and it was a progress that both reassured and thrilled her all at once. He was now glaring at the cat like it was the bane of his existence. "And how do we know it's not bugged?"

"Because kittens are never bugged, unless by fleas," Sam chuckled at his own joke, before holding a hand out for the kitten, only to retract his hand quickly when he heard it hiss.

"Here, give him to me." Dakota held out her hand and Steve passed the kitten over. She smiled and ran a hand down the cat's back. Several more times and the kitten was purring in deep satisfaction. In her peripheral, she noticed Bucky watching her intently and she fought the urge to blush. "He's just scared to death, that's all. Seems clean enough," she added and looked up at Steve. "What're you going to do with him?"

He shrugged and took the cat back from her. "Give him a home, probably. Fix him up."

"I'll help."

"Because that's just what the both of you love doing, isn't it?" Bucky remarked in a slow drawl, snatching his metal hand away from the kitten when it seemed taken by shiny objects and tried to pounce on him. He'd said it almost absentmindedly, but there was a touch of warmth in his voice that they seldom heard from him, and Dakota smiled.

"You sure you want to keep the cat here?" Sam asked, and shot a pointed look at Bucky. "Metal-boy looks like he wants to wring the neck on that thing."

Dakota and Steve exchanged looks. He eventually shook his head. "It's fine. I'll keep the cat at Sharon's."

Sam quirked an eyebrow at him. "You mean the Sharon you kissed in front of Metal-Boy and me, and almost wanted to do more than kiss but had to back away because we had to lay low for the time being and – "

"Yes, Sam," Steve rolled his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose wearily. "That Sharon."

"And you're giving her a cat to – what? Fill the empty void you left behind?" Sam deadpanned, a gleam of wicked mischief in his bright eyes. "'Cause I don't think that's going to suffice, if you know what I mean. How's a little kitty going to fill a super-soldier void?"

Bucky snorted in amusement and she bit her lip to keep from laughing. Steve flushed and shot Sam a frosty look, before he swiped his cell off the table. "I'm calling Sharon."

"I'll hold him while you call her," Dakota offered.

Steve shot her a grateful look and handed her the cat, before disappearing into the study to make the call. Naturally, Sam went to eavesdrop, placing his palms and ear flat against the door to listen with a wicked grin on his face; while Bucky eased back against the couch, angling his body so that he was more or less facing her.

"You ever thought of keeping him for yourself, doll?"

She smiled. "Doll?"

He blinked. The words had swept so swiftly out of his mouth that she knew they probably didn't even register to him until he said it. "Old slang," he mumbled at last, dragging an absentminded hand through his hair as he shifted slightly away from her. "Didn't mean for it to come out like that."

"It's okay." She laughed and held the cat to her chest. "And no, I don't think so. Steve clearly adores the cat and he can keep it. I'm not in the habit of keeping things when they're not mine or when they want to leave."

He let out a quiet sound of acknowledgement. "What if they don't want to leave?"

She lifted her gaze to his, only to find him already watching her. She knew that he was no longer talking about the cat. "Then they can stay with me for as long as they want."

"He'll take you up on that offer," he returned evenly, one corner of his lips pulling up in a faint smirk as he settled back on the couch, turning to face the television once again. She didn't miss the way he shifted his arm behind her on the back of the couch, and his hand caught the ends of her hair, twisting several locks of it gently around his fingers.

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Steve ended up taking the cat – whom he'd named Erskine – over to Sharon's place. Dakota was a little vague on the details – all she knew was that Sharon was an agent working for the government, but based on the pictures that Steve had shown them of him and Sharon, she was betting that the two were very happy together.

Steve returned two days later, explaining that he couldn't be in the city for long without being noticed. But she noticed that the same restless look in his eyes returned soon enough. Sam too seemed wired up all the time. Only Bucky seemed to genuinely love the peace and quiet of his new life.

She found Sam on the roof that afternoon; the folded wings of his Falcon suit on his lap. "Where's Redwing?" she asked.

Sam grinned and pointed to a drone hovering near a distant building. "Over there."

She settled down next to him. "I'm not sure how I feel about your drone spying on people."

"Not spying. Protecting – "

"Invading their privacy."

" – in case there's any shady business going around – "

"You mean shady like accidental nudity?"

"Well, that's always a plus," Sam joked, earning himself an elbow to the ribs. "But seriously, I'm an Avenger. Looking out for people is my job, regardless of whether the Avengers still exists."

"That's what you miss, don't you?"

"What?"

"I've seen you and Steve. Not being able to protect people when you know there's danger out there – that wears you two down."

Sam let out a sigh. "Maybe. I don't know. When I was an Avenger, it felt like I was doing something. Something good. But now that's gone and..." he trailed off and let his words fall into the silence.

She thought about what he said for awhile. She liked the peace; maybe Bucky did too. But maybe it wasn't the place for Sam or Steve.

"There's a place called Harlem a couple of miles from here," she said, at present. "A couple incidents of crime here and there; more than what's actually recorded on the news and I don't think the cops are aware of it. But word spreads. It's no longer a safe place." She sneaked a glance at Sam and noticed that his eyes were bright with curiosity, a thoughtful look on his face. She smiled. "You ever thought about taking on a part-time job?"

"A part-time job?"

"Sure. It's a little less fancy compared to the work the Avengers do. But vigilantes are just as important, I think."

"You sure know the way to a superhero's heart, kid," Sam gave a rich, amused chuckle and shook his head, even as he pushed some buttons on his Falcon suit to recall Redwing. "So, Harlem, you say?"

"And Yancy Street," Dakota added, with a laugh. "Just stay away from Hell's Kitchen. I hear they've already got their team of Defenders to protect them."

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But if Sam was eager to go, Steve was not. He didn't think leaving Bucky alone with her was a good idea. "We grew up together and he's like my brother," he said to her, as they stood in the hallway. "I trust him. But I don't trust the person he can turn into."

"Leave Redwing in here and put your number on speed dial in my cell. We'll be fine."

"If you're sure – "

"I want him to get better just as much as you do; and it'll never happen unless we trust him." She smiled, hugging him back when he wrapped an arm loosely around her shoulder, before stepping aside, raising her hand in a brief salute. "Now go save the world, Captain."

"Yes, ma'am." He grinned and glanced at Bucky in the kitchen. "Buck, I'm heading out. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone."

"Don't get yourself killed or I'll kill you myself, punk."

Steve chuckled and exchanged an amused look with Dakota before he left. Both he and Sam had left shield and wings behind, because it would be too conspicuous if they headed out in their signature gear. But even without their equipment, she had no doubt they'd handle the thugs in Harlem or Yancy street on their own.

Bucky was still slicing the tomatoes when she returned to the kitchen and she watched him for a second, noting the fluid way in which he held the knife. It wasn't the first time she'd seen him do that, but there was something so infinitely adroit and deft in the way he handled it that it seemed almost second nature to him.

Some lethal things were beautiful to watch, and this was one of them.

He looked up, noticed her staring and flashed her an almost crooked smile that just about stole her breath. He flipped the knife twice in his metal hand and quirked an eyebrow. "Feeling scared, doll?"

"Of the amount of tomatoes you're slicing? Definitely." She laughed and stepped closer to him to inspect the tomato slices in the bowl. "Are you trying to feed an army?"

"Makes sense considering how much Steve and Wilson eat."

She took the ladle he handed to her and started to stir the pasta. "And you?"

"I'm ravenous alright; but it's not for food, aнгел мой."

"Ангел мой?" She didn't miss the sultry teasing in his tone, or the way his voice had lowered to a husky timbre that made her shiver. "Whhat does that mean?"

"My angel," he returned simply, keeping his back turned to her as he continued slicing. "Figured it was fitting, since I'm the devil around here."

"Don't say that. You've been through a lot and – "

" – that's what I've become," he finished. His knife grated against the chopping board and he kept up the jarring rhythm. "Steve was right, you know. No one should trust me. I don't even trust myself. So why do you?"

She let out a breath and turned off the fire. His shoulders were tense as he kept his back to her, but she knew that he was waiting for her answer. "I don't know," she said at last.

He set his knife down and turned to her. "What?"

"I don't know why I trust you. But I do." She smiled and met his gaze. "And you? Do you trust me?"

His eyebrows rose. "That's not even something you have to ask."

"Good." Her smile widened and she stepped up to him, handing him the knife along with a bowl of fresh mushrooms. "Then we're on the same page."

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Sam and Steve still weren't back by dinnertime and Dakota could only presume they were having fun saving people, if the selfies that Sam sent her of himself pulling funny faces behind Steve's back were of any indication at all.

So after she saved some food in the fridge, she and Bucky had dinner and washed the dishes together. While he went to take a bath, she settled down on the couch, trying very hard not to think about a naked (and wet) Bucky in the shower. She turned on the television to distract herself, but didn't take much notice of what was airing at first.

Then she heard the word 'Avengers'.

She sat up, just in time as Bucky stepped out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel wrapped low around his hips, his metal arm gleaming under the soft light of the living room. His lips tilted up in a half-smile when he saw her, but it faded just as quickly when he heard the news broadcast on television.

" – the one responsible for the attack on the Sokovia Accords in Vienna. Earlier reviews of the footage had falsely concluded that it was James Buchanan Barnes – better known as the Winter Soldier – who had set off the bomb."

Dakota drew in a sharp breath, which caused Bucky to glance over at her with dark eyes.

"But if footage turned in this time is accurate and confirmed by government officials, then this would be the second Raft breakout within the past six months; the first being the untimely escape of several members of the recently disintegrated team known as the Avengers. The CIA has stated that should anyone have any information on the whereabouts of Baron Helmut Zemo, they are to alert the police immediately."

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r e f e r e n c e s

Erskine

A throwback to Captain America: The First Avenger, where Dr Abraham Erskine was the creator of the super-soldier serum that Steve was injected with. He gave Steve valuable advice before his death, and I like to think that Steve would've remembered him.

Redwing

A drone owned by Falcon in the MCU. In the comics, Redwing is an actual falcon that shares a telepathic link with Sam Wilson.

Locations

Dakota mentions several locations within fictional New York in her conversation with Sam, and these are actually real and important places in comics. For example, Sam Wilson considers himself the protector of Harlem. Matt Murdock, better known as the vigilante Daredevil, was born, raised and has been fighting crime in Hell's Kitchen since, while Yancy Street is the hometown of Ben Grimm, who was tormented by the street gangs there before he became the Thing.