[Quiet in the Chaos]

~24~

                                   
                                  ~24~

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THE REMNANTS of a smile play on his lips as his eyes remain watching the fractional raise and fall of her chest as she breathes. She lies on her back beside him, her head resting on his flesh arm behind her head and her legs sprawled across his. Her hand rests beneath his shirt from when she fell asleep, his fingers tracing a small scar on his abdomen.

Her breath catches, a sharp inhale, resulting in a sudden snore. He smirks, her head jolting up and her eyes snapping open. She blinks a few times, red lines on the side of her face. Slowly, she turns her head to face him.

Her expression eases, running a hand through her hair as she yawns. She purses her lips, leaning back down towards him. She reaches a hand out to rub the side of his face lightly.

Neither have the words to speak about last night.

Both have the school girl and school boy grins plastered on their faces.

"We're supposed to arrive in Europe today," She realises, sitting up fully.

His fingers trace random shapes on her back, covered with one of his shirts. He hums in agreement, still distracted. Danielle, however, isn't, her mind racing ahead to decipher how they get into the city.

He pushes himself up to press his lips to her neck.

"James," she warns, pushing away from him, onto her feet. She tugs at the hem of his shirt, rising high on her legs. Her eyes flit around the floor and find her sweatpants, slipping into them quickly. "We don't even have a place to stay."

Bucky's lips tug upwards. She raises an eyebrow and he shrugs playfully. "I got us on this boat didn't I?"

"You got us somewhere to stay?" she repeats.

He nods slightly, releasing a heavy breath as he pulls himself to his feet. "I did."

"How?" she stares at him, her brows furrowed.

His eyes crinkle, enjoying frustrating her. "Same way I got the boat, Doll."

She relaxes slightly, pulling on her hoodie. She moves around him as he pulls on a t shirt, pulling together their few belongings and attempting to condense them into their bag. "You really think we can trust him? He won't let anyone know where we are?"

The man chews at his lip, an emotion darkening his eyes slightly. "He isn't going to risk it. He knows who I am," he mutters.

"Was," she corrects. "And it was never who you were. It was what you were forced to do."