Your Ivy Grows

Chapter 6

Bucky

Bucky rubs absentmindedly at his jaw, helping to ease the ache he's put there by clenching it so hard. The night has barely begun, and he's already looking for a way out. Why are they suddenly making him jump through hoops for his pardon? More to the point, why is he letting them? Other than their pointless mandated therapy sessions, they'd mainly left him to his own devices until last week. Now he's being dragged to these events like some lap dog, forced to pretend he supports John Walker in this whole Captain America charade. He's not even had time to track down Sam Wilson so he can find out what possessed him to hand over Steve's shield.

He looks over at Walker, both glad and surprised that they don't have him in his ridiculous Captain America suit. Guess they don't want people to forget that Walker is also a war hero. Bucky might have done some research on the Walker's since the last event. Know your enemy, as they say. And, okay, maybe John looks good on paper. A decorated war hero, the first person in US history to be awarded three Medals of Honor. He can see why they might have chosen him. But that doesn't make Bucky like him, and it sure as hell won't make him accept him as the new Captain America. They're acting like it was just a title to Steve, like it wasn't who he was and all he stood for.

Walker turns to speak to someone, moving enough so that she finally comes back into Bucky's line of sight. Alexis Walker; he knows her name now, as well as everything else he could find out about her online. The press might focus heavily on Walker's heroics while serving, but it also seems to be obsessed with their 'love story'. Almost every article he could find on them contained the same photo from their wedding day; Alexis smiling up at John, a look of pure love and adoration on her face. So very far removed from the one she gives him now whenever she seems to feel people watching them. She's got a beautiful smile, but her eyes don't light up the way they seemed to in that photo. She's playing a role for these people, nothing more.

Bucky has spent too much of his night watching her and watching Walker watch her. He's noted how John doesn't like to let her out of his sight, has noted the possessive way he acts with her. And tonight he can't blame him because Bucky isn't the only one who can't take his eyes off of her. That dress she's wearing should be illegal. A tight-fitting red number that seems to show off every curve of her body, with a thigh high split that has caught his attention one too many times already. And he can't even bring himself to look at her chest in that dress. Yes, that dress is certainly dangerous.

She stands at John's side, playing her role and somehow ignoring how most of the eyes in this room are on her. Bucky can't ignore it though, can't help how much his jaw clenches when he notices the way the men look at her, like they're undressing her with their eyes. The off the shoulder number isn't her usual outfit choice, he's seen all the press photos. So he doesn't understand the bold choice until a server passes by her carrying a tray of champagne flutes.

She reaches up to take a glass and the sleeve on her right arm moves enough that he can see the fading purple and black bruises across her upper arm. The pattern makes it easy to spot what they are, bruises from where someone has gripped her tightly. Disgust hits him in the gut, disgust at himself. He knows that is exactly where he grabbed her last week in the garden. He'd only meant to stop her from walking away; it was never his intention to hurt her. Honestly, he could have sworn his hold had been light, not enough to do that. Maybe he underestimated the strength of his grip in that moment. He wasn't exactly thinking clearly. He never should have touched her, it probably didn't help her already low opinion of him.

His anger and annoyance worsen when she comes to sit beside him. Does Walker think he's a fucking idiot? Does he think Bucky can't see exactly what he is trying to do? Alex Flint... That one had gone right over his head when he'd seen it, despite his research showing she had an older brother called Tommy Flint who died while serving with John. They're playing with him and he doesn't appreciate it. And her opening line as she sat down, mocking his sour expression, hadn't exactly warmed him to her. He tries his best to ignore every single attempt she makes to strike up conversation during the meal. All he can think about is getting out of here and away from her.