eight: eve of destruction

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CW: Discussions of trauma and torture from Hydra

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CW: Discussions of trauma and torture from Hydra. No smut in this chapter. They will eventually go to Paris, but not quite yet.

Bucky (sort of) comes clean. Reilly realizes that she might be attracted to Steve, Bucky remembers some things. ZOMBIES? WHAT ZOMBIES? I wanna set up for a super soldier sandwich.





BUCHAREST, ROMANIA


The silence in the apartment is crushing. Reilly can hear the sound of the key sliding into the lock and the delicate pop as it turns and the door swings open.

Steve stumbles toward the couch, leaving his shield abandoned in the hallway. It's coated in a thick layer of muck. Black, like tar. It smells fucking terrible. He seems relieved to put it down.

Bucky looks nervous, dropping his weapon, and peeling off his tactical gear until he's in nothing but a long sleeved Henley and a pair of sweatpants. He grabs the couch from the door and pulls it back into the living room. The building is secure, and the locks should hold for now. It was mostly just there out of habit.

Steve plunks down on the couch, covered in grime and blood with a deep scowl set in his face as though it's been permanently carved into his features. He slowly turns his head toward her while Bucky disappears into the kitchen, his boots thunking on the floor.

"Talk," Reilly demands as her gaze lands on Steve.

He scoffs and looks around.

"You guys have heat and running water?"

"You'll find out when you start talking," Reilly confirms.

He exhales and rubs his face with blood-stained hands. The gloves he was wearing are shredded, fabric still clinging to his palm.

"Where the fuck do you want me to start?"

Reilly aims the gun at him. She's refusing to let it go until she gets the full story from him. Bucky seems to be keeping a secret. He may have thought that Steve was dead, but that doesn't explain this motherfucker showing up like he was looking for them.

"You can start by dropping the fuckin' attitude with me, Captain—"

"Reilly," Bucky sighs from the kitchen. She has a bottle thunk on the counter. "Stop."

The command causes her adrenaline and her rage to spike. How dare he speak to her like this? She's trying to get answers. What if Steve is bitten? What the fuck happens then? They wake up in the middle of the night to a goddamn zombie standing over them? No fucking thank you.

"No!" She shouts, turning back to Steve. "Your rank and your super powers don't mean dick to me in here."

She looks over her shoulder. Bucky is walking back with two bottles of whiskey clutched in his metal hand and three mugs gripped tightly in the other.

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