𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑻𝑾𝑬𝑵𝑻𝒀-𝑶𝑵𝑬: 𝑺𝑵𝑶𝑾 𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑳

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𝑾𝒉𝒐𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒐𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒂𝒔, he wasn't the real Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes

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𝑾𝒉𝒐𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒐𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒂𝒔, he wasn't the real Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.

There was no way the real one would wear another outfit than his usual fancy suits. Even in the middle of the Arctic Circle.

"What have you done with my bodyguard?" Charlie asked with narrowed eyes, struggling to keep her smile at bay, as she surveyed the man in front of her from head to toe.

He wasn't wearing tailor-made suit pants but rather fitted slacks. And no shirt in sight, only a thick sweater. One thing hadn't changed though; his whole outfit was a dark shade of grey that was almost black.

Charlie would have lied if she had told that he hadn't knocked her breath away when she opened the door of her bedroom.

From the other side of the open door, James stood in the hallway and looked at her with furrowed brows, his head slightly tilted on the side. 

"Breakfast is ready," he said with his usual monotonous voice, letting her question unanswered, before regaining the living room.

Another day, another version of James the asshole.

So this is the multiverse, right?

Last night, they agreed - Pepper, Tony and her, as James hadn't seem interested - that they would visit a reindeer farm and would go there by snowmobile. So this morning they went renting four of them, one for each of them - James still insisted on accompanying her though, in case of what? Reindeer attack? High-speed snowmobile chase? - and here they were, riding their engine through the snow-covered winter forest of Lapland.

 So this morning they went renting four of them, one for each of them - James still insisted on accompanying her though, in case of what? Reindeer attack? High-speed snowmobile chase? - and here they were, riding their engine through the snow-cove...

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