Part 15: frequency

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A/N: CW: discussions of domestic violence, smut. More notes at the end.


Eden's heart is pounding as Bucky sticks out his metal hand and grasps Wilson's massive bear paw.

"Pleasure to meet you, sir. Thank you for having us this evening."

"I'm just glad you got the invitation," Fisk replies. "I was worried with the snow that the phone lines would be down too."

He looks at Eden, who puts on her biggest, cheesiest smile and offers her hand.

"So lovely to meet you, Mr. Fisk. Again, thank you for inviting us."

Fisk smiles the best he can. It's forced, and doesn't touch his eyes. He turns to Bucky, clearly phasing Eden out.

She's used to this behavior from men. Tonight, she's just Bucky's stupid fake wife. But just because she's used to it doesn't mean it doesn't sting and infuriate her. She's never been taken seriously, not in this line of work, or any other "career" (if you want to call drug running a career... some people do). She's always just been reduced to someone's girlfriend, or had her intelligence shrugged off as a fluke. Sharon was the first person who really took her seriously, who saw that she had talent; that she was more than just some dumb blonde girl with a criminal record and a foul mouth.

Eden has to hold herself back from butting in on the conversation. Her natural tendency to rile up men isn't going to do her any good here. To her surprise, Bucky reaches out and grasps her hand, pulling her toward him so that she'll be included. She looks up at him and he keeps his eyes on Fisk, but she sees his mouth twitch and flicker into a very brief smile. Fisk continues to ignore Eden despite her having more of a presence. Fisk leans toward Bucky.

"There's a back room, we can speak more privately."

Bucky nods and keeps holding Eden's hand. As they walk toward the back, Fisk turns around and looks at her.

"I would—"

"I'd prefer to have my wife with me," Bucky cuts him off. Fisk's eyes narrow and his jaw tenses. "She knows everything and we don't keep secrets." He turns to Eden. "Right, sugar?"

"That's right," she chirps.

Fisk eyes her with suspicion. Eden flashes him another charming smile. Her heart is beating so fast and one glass of champagne on an empty stomach was a terrible idea. Fisk's eyes find hers and he stares at her for what feels like hours before he finally nods and turns on his heel, permitting Eden and Bucky to follow him to a back room near the kitchen. It looks like a private office. He ushers them inside and shuts the door behind him. Inside, is a small desk with two chairs in front of it and a large chair behind it. Eden wonders if it's his office, or if he's just intimidated someone into giving it to him for the night. There's another suit jacket hanging on the door that looks like it fits him, but otherwise, no indication of the room having any personal meaning to him. No pictures, the desk is empty aside for a typewriter, a pad of paper, and a jar of pens. The walls are barren save for a few pieces of generic artwork. Flowers. Basic. Could have been bought anywhere.

Fisk moves behind the desk and sits down. Bucky and Eden exchange a look and take a seat at the two chairs in front of him. Eden watches him fire up a cigar, pulling it out of his inside jacket pocket and making a ritual of it. He takes his time, striking the match, lighting it, and exhaling softly.

This guy thinks he's Marlon fucking Brando.

"The last I heard of Rumlow, he was still in the city," Fisk says after a long silence.

"That's good news," Bucky replies. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and shows them to fisk. "Can we smoke?"

Fisk nods and Bucky offers a cigarette to Eden, lighting it for her. He flashes her a warm smile with just his eyes, telling her it's all going to be okay, before he turns back to Fisk.

Bad Company Blues - Bucky BarnesxOCWhere stories live. Discover now