The last thing Bucky expected to happen that morning was to be approached by Natasha Romanoff. She had this determined look her her eyes; her jaw was set and her shoulders high.

There was this sort of regal beauty about Natasha, Bucky though. Her red hair, straightened that day, appeared to be made out of fine silk. It fell like a curtain and whipped around her shoulders as she swiftly walked down the hall, creating her own breeze as she went.

She was the kind of person that you wouldn't approach if you had never spoken to them before, but rather who approached you. She was still far away from him, yet from the way that her gaze was directed at him Bucky knew that she was headed straight for him. She looked right through him as if she knew all of his secrets. Bucky wasn't sure whether to be scared of her or enthralled.

She stopped in front of him then, one hand resting lazily on her hip. She smiled at him in a way that suggested they were already friends.

"James," she said, her voice like smooth butter.

"Natasha," Bucky said, giving her a curious look.

"Please, Nat will do just fine." She peered over her shoulder where Clint was watching them. He was at his locker just a few feet away, desperately trying to discern what the pair were saying. Bucky had his back turned to him, and he was standing in just the right position to almost entirely block Natasha from his view.

"Call me Bucky," he said, tilting his head slightly to the right, allowing Clint to peer over and see Natasha's face. It was enough for him to read her lips.

"Of course." She reached out a hand to gently touch his arm. Bucky involuntarily shivered and stepped back.

"Natasha—Nat, sorry. What are you doing?" his tone was firm and demanding.

Natasha stepped closer. "I came to talk to you. About Steve."

Bucky made a high-pitched noise in surprise, a noise he didn't even realize he could make. He wasn't aware of Clint watching the pair, a look between betrayal and confusion. He wasn't aware of Alexander Pierce watching, either. Pierce's look was absolutely murderous.

"Steve? Why?" Bucky managed to get out.

"I want to know why you seem so interested in him." Natasha watched in amusement as Bucky looked at her, her fists clenching and unclenching, looking mortified.

"In-interested?" he sputtered.

"Yes. I see the way you look at him." She raised a brow, as if to challenge him.

In truth, Natasha hadn't really seen Bucky look at Steve in any particular way; she was only going off of a conversation she had overheard between Peggy and Sharon. Although, from the look on Bucky's face she had either uncovered a truth or Bucky truly was surprised by this speculation.

"Steve was my best friend." Bucky pointed out. "I'm just curious as to why he doesn't seem interested in being my friend again."

Natasha was keenly aware of Clint watching them, and Clint wasn't exactly being discreet about it, either. Whether or not Bucky had a crush on Steve, she didn't care. What she suspected didn't really matter at the moment. She was only concerned with having an excuse to strike up a conversation with him.

"You're sure that's all it is?" she cooed, internally cringing at her own sweetly, yet sickening flirtatious tone.

"Of course," Bucky said, shocked that she would even suggest it was anything else.

"Great." She stepped closer to him, so close, in fact, that she could feel his breath tickling her nose. "Then you won't mind if I do this."

Her soft hands cupped his cheeks, and Bucky felt this sensation of intense wrongness. While most guys in his grade would die for an opportunity like this, Bucky found himself wanting to escape and run away. Far, far away.

He felt her lips press against his cheek and instinctively pushed her away.

"Nat, stop," his voice came out harsher than intended, yet he made no move to apologize.

"Buck—" her voice faltered. "I'm sorry. I had to. You wouldn't understand."

"You're right." He had almost expected himself to sound angry again, instead he just sounded tired.

"I hope you didn't actually think—"

"Of course not," he cut her off.

Bucky hadn't known what to think. In fact, he was still drowning in his own confusion. If that hadn't meant anything, what was the purpose? Natasha was looking off in the distance again, and Bucky turned around to see Clint looking furious. He suddenly understood, the realization hitting him like childhood epiphany.

Natasha was trying to make Clint jealous.

Bucky had just been her toy. What if he had had a crush on Natasha? She would have just been playing with his emotions. He found he didn't even have it in him to be angry. He was more concerned with explaining the situation to Clint, just so that he wouldn't murder Bucky in his sleep.

He stood stark still for another few moments. Only when the throng of students started walking through the halls, book in their hands, did Bucky realize that the bell had rung.  Natasha was no longer standing in front of him. He didn't even realize that she had left.

Clint was gone, too. Pierce watched from a distance, his brain already forming a plan of what he was going to do with Bucky, none of which was pleasant.

**

"I'm so sorry," Peggy said after Bucky explained what had happened between him and Natasha.

Bucky looked at her, shocked. "Why are you sorry?"

They sat at a cafeteria table, opposite each other and at the end. It was often like this at lunch, the two just chatting and in their own world. Of course Bucky was friends with the others, but he thought that he and Peggy sort of had this special connection that he couldn't explain.

"It's my fault." Bucky raised a brow, urging her to continue. "I was talking to my sister about how you were clearly upset that Steve couldn't seem to be bothered with you. Since they are friends and all, I was hoping that she could convince Steve to at least talk to you. Natasha must have overheard."

Bucky shrugged. "It's no big deal. Either way, she would've found something else to say, she would've still. . ." he trailed off.

It wasn't that he was that disgusted by the idea of Natasha. She was pretty, after all. It was that Clint was the first one to befriend him upon his return, and he had already managed to make the guy hate him. Bucky had tried to explain the situation to Clint, but Clint wouldn't have any of it. He wouldn't believe that Natasha was doing it all just to make him jealous.

Peggy popped another fry into her mouth and swallowed before saying, "yes, but you wouldn't have had to listen to her accuse you of having a crush on Steve if it weren't for me."

"It's okay, really," Bucky assured her. "I just feel bad for Clint. He needs to understand that it didn't mean anything."

"He'll come around."

"Hopefully. Anyway, I've got to talk to Mr. Coulson about something." Bucky stood up, brushing off a few crumbs from the chips he had been eating.

He waved goodbye to the rest of his friends before heading out of the cafeteria and towards his locker. The hallways were practically deserted at this time. Most people went outside, in the cafeteria, or drove somewhere else to get greasy fast food.

Mr. Coulson was Bucky's history teacher, and he'd wanted to ask him about his test mark, which seemed unusually low. Bucky was sure that he knew everything and even after talking to Wanda who had done well found that they had most of the same answers.

He searched through his history binder for his test and didn't even notice when Pierce came up to him from behind. His binder was suddenly roughly thrown to the floor, the papers falling out and sprawled all over the floor.

The look Bucky gave Pierce was murderous. "Excuse me?"

"You had better not be touching Natasha like that," Pierce growled.

Bucky scowled. He wanted to point out that it had been Natasha touching him, but this Pierce guy really bothered him and he wanted to do the same in return.

"I can do whatever I damn well please," he said.

"Watch your words, soldier." Bucky didn't even want to ask how he had gotten that nickname. He didn't want to know. "Natasha isn't yours."

"Of course not," Bucky admitted. "But she's not yours, either."

"I want you to stay away from her." While Pierce's fists were shaking with anticipation, Bucky found he wasn't in the least bit scared. He didn't want to have to fight this guy, but he knew when it came down to it Pierce didn't stand a chance.

"And what if I don't?"

Without warning, a fist slammed into Bucky's jaw. He gasped and stumbled back, clutching his already bruising jaw. He stared back at Pierce with a look that could kill. His metal arm was pressed tightly to his side. He wouldn't use it. He couldn't.

"Aren't you going to fight back?" Bucky saw his arm swing but this time he ducked. "Coward!"

Bucky swung his fist, the flesh one, but it was only halfhearted, and Pierce easily caught it. He laughed mirthlessly, a look of satisfaction on his face. He squeezed Bucky's fist, and it was all Bucky could do to not cry out in pain.

He stared down at his metal arm in pure distaste. Oh, how much he wished that he could pummel this asshole to the ground. He'd heard about Pierce, of course, along with Rumlow and the other idiots in their group of dickbags.They were the rotten sort, according to both his and Tony's group. Pierce hadn't proved contradictory.

His metal arm made him a monster. To hit Pierce now with it would only be playing along with his own terrible yet inconceivably true theory. But Pierce was squeezing incredibly hard, the pain reaching its crescendo. His whole hand had turned a dangerously white hue. He heard the bones crack more than he felt it, and he let out one last yelp before his metal fist collided with Pierce's nose, this crack much more sickening.

Pierce fell into a heap on the floor, knocked out cold.

Bucky stumbled back, staring down at his metal arm in horror. He tripped over his binder that he had forgotten was an the floor and landed on his arse. Pain trailed up his spine, but he hardly noticed.

Bucky looked up, eyes meeting with a pair of wide, sea green ones. A girl, so tiny she must've been a freshman, was staring at him, slack jawed and frozen in fear. She blinked, seeming to have just realized Bucky knew she was there. She turned on her heels and went sprinting down the hall, her red braid swinging behind her like a pendulum.

She looked strangely familiar, Bucky thought. However, he didn't waste any time dwelling on this. His mind was still too focused on what he had done. He hardly even noticed when he heard a scream behind him. He was hugging his knees tightly to his chest, wishing he had a time turner like in Harry Potter.

Someone hauled him to his feet roughy and he was led, or rather dragged, into Principal Fury's office.

"James Barnes," Fury said as soon as the two of them had sat down. Bucky seemed unable to meet the principals eyes. He was staring purposely to the left of him, at a framed wedding picture of Fury and who must have been his wife. "You haven't been here two weeks and you are already on the brink of expulsion."

"Expulsion?" Bucky stammered. He couldn't be expelled. Not when he had just made new friends. That, and Winifred would be furious.

"The brink of expulsion," Fury emphasized. "I will be letting you go with perhaps a few days of suspension, but if this becomes more than a one time thing don't consider yourself so lucky."

Fury hadn't even asked for Bucky's side of the story. If he had, he would've found that it was Pierce who started the fight, and Bucky was really only defending himself. He wasn't sure how things worked here in Brooklyn, if it even mattered who started the fight. Bucky had broken Pierce's nose, and that was that. He had no desire to defend himself, anyway. He felt that he had deserved what he got, for using his metal arm, the monster part of him.

"Mr. Fury," Bucky said after a few long moments of him sitting in shame. "It's my hand. I think it's broken, or fractured or something."

The pain in his right hand was horrible. He had tried to ignore it up until now, but it was becoming unbearable. He glanced to see that half his hand was purple and it was swelling.

Fury looked at it, shocked. "Why didn't you say anything sooner?"

Bucky thought Fury must not have cared much, anyway. He completely disregarded the bruising in his jaw. Albeit, the pain in his jaw paled in comparison to the pain in his hand.

"You didn't ask. My punishment seemed more important," Bucky couldn't help the bitterness that seeped into his tone.

"I assume this is from hitting him?"

Bucky wasn't ready to deny it. Sure, Pierce was a jerk, but he was too afraid to jeopardize his punishment, in case Fury actually looked at it like Bucky was defending himself. He was a monster with that metal thing attached to him. He used it to his advantage, and whatever punishment he got for it was probably still not what he deserved.

So, in response, Bucky only nodded.

"I'll make sure you go see the nurse. And I'll be calling your parents."

Bucky's stomach dropped. He hadn't really thought of what his mother's reaction would be. He didn't want to. The impending wrath of Winifred suddenly seemed much worse than the pain in his hand.

**

A/n: I feel like this is the worst chapter I've written. Okay, that might actually have to go for the first chapter. This is still terrible. I wanted to make the fight scene better but I don't know how to write a fight scene.

This chapter is two days early (I update on Tuesday's, if you hadn't noticed) because I'll be away Tuesday and unable to edit this shitty chapter and I'm not sure I'll even have access to the internet (tragic). So I guess this is good for anyone who actually enjoys this story.

Also, thanks so much for 200 reads!