Your Ivy Grows

Chapter 27

This time when I wash the dishes, no one comes in to distract me. I'm left alone with nothing but my thoughts, too many of which are completely filthy. I can't help it, not when I'm standing in this spot. Not when I keep looking up and catching my reflection in the window. It has me remembering what we were doing here not too long ago. The indistinct murmur of voices coming from the other room pulls me out of my daydreaming. I'm straining to hear what's being said, but I can't make any of it out. I'd be worried if it weren't for the fact John seems utterly oblivious to what is going on between me and Barnes.

What is going on between us? I sound like a broken record. My mind obsessing over the same questions that I have no answers to. Just when I think I might have a handle on things, Barnes shows me I don't have a clue. Take tonight, for example. What's with all his probing questions? Why does he want to know about me? About John? About my past? Does he actually care about the answers, or was he just trying to fill the silence?

All I know with full confidence is that Barnes enjoys fucking me. And can I blame him when it feels as fucking good as it does? This thing between us is palpable; something so electric I think we could power a small city. But I'm still suspicious of him, of his motives. What's his endgame? When I see the way he looks at John, I can't help but worry he still wants to use me to hurt him.

Once the kitchen looks spotless, I realise I've got no excuse to keep hiding away in here. I guess I can't avoid facing them forever. I cut John a slice of pie and head back to the living room.

"It's in two days at Gotham Hall." John's saying as I walk back into the room. "I can send you over the details. But we'd love it if you could be there."

John barely spares me a glance, but Barnes' eyes are on me, watching me. He's always watching me. John never seems to notice.

"Here." I hold the plate out to John and he looks down at it like I'm trying to hand him a plate of shit, not dessert. It takes a concentrated effort not to roll my eyes at him.

"Apple pie again, Alex. Really?" Despite his words, he still takes the plate from me. We both know he's going to inhale the pie, even if he's acting like it's the last thing he wants to eat. It isn't like he doesn't know this was Tommy's favourite or that it is the dessert I always serve when someone new comes for dinner. This man is just trying to piss me off and I refuse to show him it's working.

Rather than react to his comment, I instead ask him, "What's at Gotham Hall?"

"That event the Secretary of Defense is hosting, the one we're expected at, remember?" John looks over at me and my blank stare tells him I have no clue what he's talking about. "I've told you about it multiple times, Alex. Don't you ever listen?"

He hasn't—he knows he hasn't. But I don't rise to the bait. I'm not arguing with him in front of Barnes. Even if we both know he's never mentioned this event to me before this moment. There's a reason he rarely gives me a warning about these types of things. He knows I'll find any excuse to get out of going if I can.

"I was just letting Bucky know that he's invited. You'll be there, right?" He looks over at him, looking for confirmation.

"I wouldn't dream of missing it." He's speaking to John, but his eyes are on me, heated and intense. The implication is clear—he's going because he knows I'll be there. It's like a thousand butterflies just took flight in my stomach and I fight back a grin.

If I wasn't already sure that I'm well and truly fucked when it comes to James Bucky Barnes, the thrill that runs through me at the mere idea of seeing him again so soon all but confirms it. He wants to see me again, and I know I won't try to deny him this time.