FORTUITY ☆ B.BARNES ✔️

30; Hell Hath No Fury Like A Woman Scorned

THE NEXT DAY, SCOTT AND MAEVE EXCHANGED NOTHING MORE THAN A GLANCE OR TWO; she didn't completely know what happened, but she knew there was a fight. Of course, upon learning that Bucky had punched Scott in the face, she was angry at him. She didn't need to hear it happened from anyone when she saw the nasty purplish-blue mark accompanied by a deep scratch on Scott's cheek, and Maeve instantly figured it was Bucky's doing.

"That seems like it hurts," She says, getting closer and closer to Scott, much too close. She pulls out a tin box from the cupboard, it was a first aid kit. Seeing as she lived with the Avengers, she figured it would be a good idea to keep them around. 

"I'm fine," Scott replies coldly, to hear her sigh. He pushes her away lightly and declines her offer to help. It had been an hour or so after the fight-if you could even call it that. Nevertheless, Maeve hands him the kit, and he swiftly takes it from her. The contact of their fingers sends a shiver down his spine, it just showed him how much he missed her. 

Maeve watched in slight amusement as he attempted to figure out how to disinfect it without wincing in front of her. "D'you think it'll leave a scar?" She asks in genuine curiosity, right arm leaning against the table. Scott pays no mind to her teasing demeanor and shrugs, "Probably." Maeve frowned to herself, his replies were so short. It's like he didn't want to talk to her.

"Did he hit you with his metal arm?"

Scott freezes, "How did you know?"

Maeve smiles, but she only felt sadness and pity. "I just do. I know you, both of you."

-

Sometimes, Maeve was a little hard to figure out. No-scratch that, she was very hard to figure out. Bucky's ignorance of Maeve knowing about the fight made it hard to understand why she was ignoring him. He had practically moved into her room and when she came back from training, she said nothing. He watched as Maeve picked up her book and sat on the armchair next to the bed, where he was lying.

"How was training?"

Maeve shrugs, eyes glued on the book. 

"Oh-kay..." Bucky says to himself, he focuses back on the TV. He couldn't help but look back at her every two minutes or so. In reality, he definitely wanted her to join him on the bed. Something wasn't right with Maeve, and he knew it. Then it dawned on him, and he paled.

"Uh, Maeve?" He says, obvious worry laced in his voice.

"What?" She finally replies, looking irritated at the flurry of interruptions. Bucky had never seen her so...angry. "You're mad..." Bucky says almost sadly, but comes out as more of a question than a statement. Maeve, for a moment, almost felt bad about treating him this way, but quickly remembered why she was mad at him in the first place.

"Mhm."

Bucky sighs, sitting up on the bed. Maeve had never seen him look like such a puppy before. Just those eyes and the small pout painted on his lips. "You shouldn't have punched Scott." She says, eyes switching from the book and Bucky. 

"I had my reasons, doll."

Maeve rolls her eyes, she was so tired of him treating her like a child. Bucky opens out his arms for her to join him on the bed, but she relents by standing up to the bookshelf nicely placed in the far-right corner of the beige colored room. After placing back the book neatly, she saunters towards the armoire. Bucky looked at her in slight awe, she was most certainly teasing him. As much as he hated to admit it, Bucky craves affection and attention, desperately. Maybe it was because of being frozen in a cryogenic chamber for decades alone, maybe it was because he was once a ladies man and he craved the attention. There was no time to think about all that because all Bucky knew was that he was absolutely ravenous for attention. 

She then trudges to the bathroom for what seemed like a minute or so, but to Bucky, it felt like ages. When she came out she was dressed in a silk-lace slip. He eyed her hungrily as she finally settled on the right side of the bed. Bucky had seen her in lots of pretty clothes before, blouses, gowns, dresses, but nothing compared to seeing her in a short slip. It fitted her curves just perfectly like it was made for her. She crawls under the blankets and shuts up the lamp, then she turns to him.

"If I go and apologize to Scott, will you finally stop ignoring me?"

Maeve smiles triumphantly, 'Yep. I still have him wrapped around my finger.'

She nods and stretches out her slender arms for him and waits for him to bury his face deep into the crook of her neck. He does exactly that and peppers her neck with soft kisses, making her moan almost inaudibly. It was her weakness, her soft spot, and he knew exactly where all of them were. Maeve caresses his cheek and studies his face with care. 

The dark circles under his eyes were still very evident, they seemed to be a permanent feature of his face, they were there since the first day she saw him. His short beard was very visually appealing to Maeve, and she loved the way it always tickled every time his lips would settle on her. His set of eyes was perhaps the loveliest thing she had ever laid her eyes on, whenever he looked at her with those cerulean orbs, she knew how much she meant to him. Maeve deeply missed the way she would run her slender fingers through his long hair, but his short hair was still as soft and as pretty. Out of pure love and with a sudden outburst of playfulness, she licks his right cheek, making him squeal like a schoolgirl. Maeve giggled at the red that plagued his cheeks and neck, he was flustered. 

"I'm still mad, by the way."