a lion among wolves, bucky barnes (hiatus)

two.

WASHINGTON D.C.
2014

"NICE car you've got here," June remarked with authentic appraise as she stooped into the passengers' seat of Nat's gleaming black corvette, raising her eyebrows, grudgingly impressed. "Shield treats its favorites well."

Natasha clucked her tongue against her teeth. "Always about the money with you, huh?" There was a brief pause as the engine revved angrily, harshly disrupting the still, silent evening. Nat adjusted her rear-view mirror. "But thanks."

They eased into the street below June's apartment, the brilliant sun shrinking behind the clouds and thrusting long gray shadows over the skyscrapers and brownstone structures. The interior of the Stingray was muted and comfortable, sleek and expensive, leather seats cool and smooth beneath her thighs. June had changed hastily into more accommodating attire: jeans that hugged her legs, arms clad in a tan leather jacket, its many pockets holding her various badges and licenses, should a situation in which they were needed present itself. The jacket also played a pivotal role in concealing the handgun she had holstered upon her belt and twisted behind her back, an accessory that Natasha had insisted she take along.

As they drifted onto a main street, moving lackadaisically through the city, Natasha spoke up, "It's a good thing you live alone. It gets messy when family starts wanting explanations."

June scowled, smiling uneasily. "That felt like a personal dig, Romanoff."

"It wasn't," Natasha assured her. "I'm more of a loner, myself."

"Well," June's gaze became askance, her hands fidgeting uncomfortably. "I wouldn't exactly call myself a loner."

Traffic picked up, and Nat slowed the corvette. She stared on straight ahead, her feline eyes and flaming hair set aglow by the waning sunset. "Then why are you alone?"

June pressed her lips together, eyes falling to her lap as a pang of hurt gripped her core. "I don't know," she whispered. And she meant it. As brash as Natasha was, she caught the hollowness in June's suddenly soft voice, and did not press the subject. A few awkward moments passed, June having lost the desire to converse.

"You ever met Captain America?" Natasha asked carefully after a while, as if their earlier conversation had never occurred. June's eyes lifted again, irises like ever-shifting kaleidoscopes. She forgot her sulking.

"No. Why?"

Natasha smirked frighteningly to herself. "Just a question." She tightened her grip around the steering wheel. "He's a real catch."

• • •

TO June's surprise, Natasha halted in the visitor's lot of a hospital. The day was over, and now all who drifted in and out of the sleek sliding doors were tired nurses and doctors ready to end their shifts, and caffeinated employees whose nights were just beginning.

"Is this Shield's new headquarters?" June asked, only partially joking.

"No," Natasha pushed open her door and swung a leg out of the corvette. "I'm just feeling a bit peckish."

June raised a resigned eyebrow, rightfully puzzled but somehow entertained at the agent's barefaced behavior. She climbed out from the Stingray and shuffled alongside Nat, hands buried in her pockets as the sterile air of the lobby chilled her, icy fingers dancing over her skin. Gazes lifted as they ventured deeper into the lobby, though no one seemed off-put by their entrance, which June supposed was all they could hope for.

A kind-looking nurse approached them tentatively. "Can I help you with anything, ma'am?" She directed the question to Natasha, who considered the dark-eyed woman with cool regard and replied smoothly, "No, thank you. My sister and I are here to visit our grandfather. He's a real nice guy—World War Two veteran, actually. Struggling with dementia."