Oleander - Bucky BarnesxOC

PROLOGUE: JUDAS

CW: Stripping, sex work, smut, mentions of violence against women, drug use, and misogyny.

It's late by the time James steps into the church, his shoes clicking gently on the wooden floor. The building is dark, stuffy, and smells like a mixture of must and bleach. Still, it feels like a home he hasn't been back to in a long time. He grew up in this church. He was an altar boy, but now the space feels vaguely unfamiliar. James is a lapsed Catholic and has been since he was a teenager.

He knows Father Paul will be here, like an old friend. The old man disagrees with his methods and lifestyle, but it's not his place to judge - that's up to God, he says.

James is not even sure he believes in God anymore. Given everything he's seen, it feels like there's nothing beyond this earthly realm but darkness. No pearly gates, no penance, no angels singing and welcoming you into heaven with trumpets and harps.

We just eat, breathe, fuck, kill, and expire. That's it.

It's kind of depressing, but at the same time, it's what makes life so precious.

To James, it feels like God was invented as a source of comfort rather than guidance. He doesn't begrudge anyone that, but if there is a power greater than himself, James has never experienced its kindness, nor its wrath.

Still, old habits die hard, and James feels the need to get something off his chest. He'll sleep better; he won't have to take those pills.

He approaches the confessional and unbuttons his suit jacket, placing it gently on a nearby pew. Deft fingers roll up his shirt sleeves, revealing lean, but muscular forearms. He has a few tattoos on his fingers and thumbs, but otherwise, his arms are a blank canvas, and he likes it that way. The tattoos on his fingers can be covered by rings. James steps into the confessional and drops to his knees. A small door slides open and he sees Father Paul's furrowed brow and bulbous nose come into view. He looks like a painting in the low light.

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen," James whispers, his head dropping as he makes the sign of the cross.

Father Paul's silence is an indication for him to continue.

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been a month since my last confession."

He cracks his knuckles. They're covered in swollen cuts that, as of this morning, were oozing with blood. He had to bandage them before a meeting with Tony Stark.

James examines the gashes and exhales softly. They're caused by teeth marks from the men he beat and pistol-whipped yesterday - no one important, just two low-level LA gangbangers who refused to get out of his turf. He offered them a deal, they told him to go fuck himself. So, he did what he had to do.

Nobody says no to James Barnes.

"I killed a man yesterday - two men, actually. I know you know better than to go to the cops, Father. I'm the reason this church is still standing." He chuckles. "It's funny, you're supposed to have the power in this exchange. You'll tell me how to cleanse my soul, but I keep your lights on."

There's a long pause. James pays the church's rent because it's the place his parents got married. The city was going to rezone and redevelop it five years ago - turn it into more high-priced condos. James couldn't let them do that, and he wanted the tax break. So, he bought the land and saved the parish. Father Paul owes him a life debt, and James can come into this confessional and say whatever he wants without consequence. It's a good trade off.

"Son, did you come here to brag, or to confess?" Father Paul croaks.

"Sorry, Father... My problem isn't with what I did. I've reconciled with that, and I know my nature. My problem is, I didn't feel anything when I did it. No remorse, no anger, not even the thrill I used to get when I was younger." He scoffs. "And I'm not even that old. I'm 36, for Christ's sake-"