Dating Game ☆ Bucky x Reader

Chapter 10

You stand under the scalding water of your shower letting the water leave red hot streaks across your skin. You were hoping that the water would wash the confusion down the drain, but it didn't work. Sighing, you wrap a plush blanket around you as you step out from behind your shower curtain.

You throw on an old shirt and a pair of leggings before throwing yourself into the middle of your bed and burying your face in your favorite pillow. The apartment still smells faintly like breakfast, even though you cleaned everything up a while ago.

You shouldn't be upset. You hardly know the man. If anything, you should be angry that you woke up and he had overstayed his welcome...even if he was doing it to keep you safe and made a pretty amazing breakfast. Oh well, it's not like you will see him again. Good job on that one.

You aren't due back at work until tomorrow so you have the entire day to sulk and feel sorry for yourself. After that, you will be too busy to think for the next several days.

You start to find aimless things to clean, even though the apartment is spotless. Finally, you decide to settle in on your couch with your latest book hoping that it will distract you. You only managed to get a few paragraphs in by the time there was a sharp loud knock at your door.

Crossing your apartment, you look through the small hole in your door to see Natalie...wait...Natasha standing on the other side. Her arms are crossed across her chest and a faint scowl is darkening her usually smiling face.

She walks into your apartment the second you start to open the door. She shoves past you and glances quickly around. She makes a loop of your apartment and even looks upstairs before walking back to you.

"He isn't here?" she questions with a slight worried tone. Her black-clad form leaning against the wall.

"Of course not. Is he supposed to be?" The words unintentionally snap past your tongue before you can stop them.

"He never made it back home. I'm worried."

"Natasha...he is a hundred year old assassin with a metal arm. I'm sure he can take care of himself. Maybe he just wants to be alone."

Natasha's jaw drops just slightly before she recovers her strictly neutral expression. "So, he told you, then?"

"Obviously. Now, are you going to fill in the blanks since you busted into my apartment and nearly knocked me on my ass or are you going to leave me completely in the dark, too? For a second time." You cross your arms tightly across your chest, trying to look angry but failing to look anything but depressed.

Natasha's face softens slightly. "Oh...wait. What happened? You look like someone drowned your favorite puppy." She walks over to sit on the couch and pats the cushion beside her.

You let out a breath as you flop hard down onto the other side of your couch - right back into the same spot you were sitting this morning. Your head is pounding and you are nearly positive that it is no longer from the hangover. You grab one of the bottles of water still sitting on the side table and open it.

"First, I have questions. A lot of them," you say with slightly narrowed eyes.

"I guess I will answer what I can. I assume you now know who I am?" As she speaks, she reaches up to pull the wig off of her head and starts to undo the clips and pins holding the waves of red in place. One quick shake and a waterfall of crimson cascades down her shoulders, the waves in her hair still looking annoyingly perfect after being trapped under a wig for who knows how long.

"Natasha Romanoff. Who I assume never does anything by chance."

Natasha's face is back to an emotionless blank slate. The empty expression is far from the smiling excitable woman you saw earlier this week. She is impossible to read as she crosses her legs. The only hint of her anxiety is her slightly bouncing combat booted foot.