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imagining-sio · 5 years

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Escapism VI

A/n: I saw endgame... I'm feeling a lot of things. This story does not reflect it however so everything is fine. Not really but still.

Chapter VI:

Banana Pancakes

I felt the morning sun beam through my sheer curtains, lighting up my eyelids. I moaned in discomfort at the sunlight, turning over in my bed, revelling in the warmth. I hummed in contentment, moving closer to the warmth object. I felt a weight on my side, further envolipng my body in the sensation.

“Hey,” I heard a faint whisper, followed by a small peck on my forehead. There was a lingering sensation trailing up and down my spine, making me abscentmindedly squirm.

“Mmm,” I mumbled sleepily. I heard a small chuckle in response.

“You aren’t a morning person are you?” My neighbors voice rung in my ears. I felt a pair of lips on my exposed neck, kissing a sore spot as gentle as possible.

“Not particularly,” I groaned, my voice hoarse, finally opening my eyes. I smiled at the face before me, not caring for the fact I had realised that the only thing I had on was my bedsheets. My neighbor, now lying in my bed, in the same dishevled state I was in, propped his head up on his elbow.

“So,” he said.

“So?”

“Waffles?” he arched a brow. I rolled my eyes, a fond smile forming on my face. I mimicked his position, pulling the crisp white bedsheet up to cover myself.

“I arleady saw everything, you don’t really need to do that.” he drew circles on the small of my back. I laughed, lazily pushing his shoulder.

“I was thinking banana pancakes.” I eyed him. His eyes lit up.

“Okay!” He got out of bed, the gust of wind from the sheets sending goosebumps up my spine. He put his boxers on, and walked out of the room. I gave a puzzled expression before realizing that he had no idea what I was actually insinuating. I rolled out of bed, grabbing my underwear, which were hanging on the corner of my dresser. A risdual of the events that happened the night before.

I snatched a strewn shirt on the floor in the hallway leading to the stairs. Upon putting on, I found it was indeed not my own, as the hem hung down around my thighs. I took a small sniff of the material, the scent of my gorgeous neighbor prevalent. I could only smile walking down the stairs barefoot.

“Hey, where do you keep the pancake mix?” Bucky peeked his head out of the pantry, his dishevled hair hanging to the side. he had bruises on both sides of his neck, a result of my own accord.

“Third shelf from the top.” I said, walking over to the coffee machine, placing a pod in the brewer. I opened the cabinet above, pulling out two white mugs.

“Ah, thanks.” He grabbed the box, shutting the pantry door. I watched out of the corner of my eye as Bucky took down one of the hanging pans, setting it upon a burner of the correct size. With the flick of his wrist, he turned the dial of the stovetop. The crackle of the electricity like a rhythmic snapping until a flush of flames was heard. Bucky stood beside me as he baegan to mix the pancake batter, bumping my hip in attempts to get my attention. I bumped back.

“So I gotta question for you.” I said, setting the now filled mugs upon the counter top. I pulled out a stool, giving me a glorious view of his topless back. His skin glistened in the mid morning sun, his tattoo sleeve a stark contrast from his toned, taught back. The sizzling of the pancakes was the only sound between us.

“Go ahead.” he replied, bobbing to a tune in his head.

“Do you know what Banana Pancakes is?”

“Yeah, They’re my favorite. Why?” He peeked over his shoulder. I spurt in my coffee, bursting into a loud cackle admist my coughing. Bucky turned around, pan in one hand and spatula in the other.

“I take it that it means something completely different than actual pancakes.” He looked down at the pancakes that were sizzling in the cast iron pan.

“You could say that.”

“So what does it mean?”

“Not telling.” I sipped my coffe, hiding the smirk.

“Just don’t tell Sam.”

“No promises.” I chuckled. I eyed his behind as he turned around, finishing off the pancakes. It was a comfortable silence between the two of us. Nothing needed to be said. After ten minutes, he set the plates down, not before walking to the pantry and grabbing the maple syrup.

“So are you gonna tell about them?” I stared at his left side as I munched on my pancakes.

“Hmm,” he looked at me quizzically.

“Your tattoos.” I elbowed his arm lightly. His expression faded.

“I got them to cover up a scar. Steve actually was the one who inked me.”

“Wait, steve did this?”

“Yeah, turns out he’s pretty good at this stuff. There’s not enough income here for a tattoo shop though. So a friend of ours who went to college withhim let him borrow his shop a couple times.”

“Did you get the scar when you were deployed.” I asked tentitavely. He could only nod his head.

“I wasn’t paying attention. Lost some good people. I paid for it, though.” He pursed his lips. I couldn’t help but empathize with him, taking his left hand in my right one.

“I got tired of looking at my failure. Wanted to make something good out of it.” he shrugged, taking a bite of his pancake.

“And this spot?” I turned his arm, pointing to the blank spot on his arm.

“I’m saving it.”

“For what?”

“Dunno yet, something good, though.” He pecked my forehead. I hummed, letting my head fall to his tattooed arm, planting a kiss on the bicep.

“So, are we gonna talk about the whole sleeping with each other thing?” Bucky asked, his body tense. I looked back at my empty plate, contemplating what to say. I shurgged, finding myself without a thought on the subject.

“Do you think we should?” I looked back at him.

“So you’re saying that this isn’t a big deal?”

“No, I’m not saying that. I’m saying I think we’ve expressed ourselves enough. Though, I would love to see how you try to explain why you look like you got mauled by a vampire to the others.” I giggled as his hand came up to his neck rubbing the numerous marks I had left hte night before.

“I could say the same for you.” He shot back, a smile growing on his face. I laughed in response.

“I highly doubt you even know what concealer is; or how to use it.” I arched a brow. I didn’t even resist when he planted his lips on mine, his arms moving me to his lap.

“Do you really wanna do this?” he asked, tentative in his voice. As if he was scared I would actually say no.

“I really think I do, Barnes.” I cupped his cheek, my other hand carding through his hair.

“Alright then.” He wrapped my legs around his waist, abruptly standing up. The stool hit the floor with a hard thud, and I gave him a questioning look as he walked back up the steps.

“You knew the whole time didn’t you?” I said between the passionate lip locks.

“I’m not a hundred, (Y/N),” he smirked as he kissed me.

“You sly bastard.”

“You have no idea, doll.”

6 months later…..

At this point, I was living on both sides of the street. Almost half of my clothing was in Bucky’s home, and his in mine. There was a mish mash of items as well. He had bought me a toolbox, and was insistant that I learn how to fix things on both my vehicle and his motorcycle. A white helmet was an exact contrast against his black one. The only thing connecting them was a red star on the side as they sat together on the counter.

That wasn’t to say it didn’t go both ways. There were far more succulents in his home now, in little metal wine glasses sans a stem. They were scatted across his home, whether on his counter, window, or beside table. There was a lot more color in his home than the dark tones he had been using since he moved in. Red was most prevalent, given it was now his favorite blanket in the house. It was his only blanket, in a house he kept at sixty-five degrees farenhiet. I needed to work on that.

I no longer worked at the coffee shop, I owned it. Edna and Thomas had finally decided to retire, and left the buisness with me. I took on new help, a local teen, one of Tony’s little geniuses; Peter. He was an absolute sweetheart, took his job way too seriously at first, but he was starting to mellow out. I kept the same work ethic as Edna and Thomas would have, keeping it open mostly in the afternoon. When Thor’s brother moved to town, he asked if I could place him to work here. I obliged.

At first, Loki was extremely difficult and found the job beneath him. But after a stern talking to, and maybe hitting him with a book, he warmed up a bit. He stated that he had gone to culinary school, and I was adamant that he be incharge of the kitchen remodel of the back room, making it so that he could actually cook meals. He was elated at the idea, and had been wokring withhis brother to get the job done. As soon as it was, he hadn’t had a bad day at work since. It was like magic.

Today was no different. The midday rush was crowded, but nothing the three of us couldn’t handle. As peter would take orders, Loki cooked, and I would bring them their desired meal and payment. It was a well oiled machine. Of course, I would be sure to deliver coffee to the shop, every morning upon opening like clockwork. It also helped that I knew evryone’s orders by heart, and I had a wonderful someone to help bring the coffees over. Of course, he practically lived with me so it would seem natural that he would walk me across the street to my work.

As the midday rushed died off, we were left cleaning the dirty dishes, setting the vast amount of plates upon the rack. The bell chimed, signalling someone had entered. I strode out of the back kitchen drying my hands on my apron.

“I’m terribly sorry; but were closin-“ the words caught in my throat.

“Hi, Miss. Do you remember me?” Detective Danvers and her partner were standing in the room.

“Yes, Carol was it?” I closed the room to the back kitchen discreetly as possible.

“We have been mounting the evidence. And the time for the trial is fast approaching. We need you to come with us so that you can testify.” She pursed her lips, her hands shoved in her slacks’ pockets.

“Everything will be paid for. I know this is a dificult subject for you.”

“When do I need to leave with you?” i asked, taking a deep breath.

“Saturday.”

It was Friday.

I nodded my head, gnawing on my bottom lip. She pulled out a small buisness card, a number and an address on the blank side.

“Here’s where we are staying. Our room number is listed below. Don’t be afraid to call me.” She and her partner walked out the door. I looked down at the piece of cardstock, a sinking feeling seeping through my skin.

“Who were they?” Peter walked out the back kitchen. I shoved the card in my back pocket, turning to face him with a smile.

“Just people passing through. They were very sweet. Tell you what, you two can go home early today. My treat.”

“Really!” he almost dropped the plate, his extremely fast reflexes caught it before it fell to the ground.

“Thanks Ms, L/N!” he hugged me bfore he went back into the kitchen, “Hey Loki!”

I tuned out the rest. The small card in my pocket felt like I was withholding a bomb. I waited for them to both leave before I sat at one of the tables, holding my head in my hands as I could only stare at the card. I didn’t stop the tears at all.

I drove home, beginning to set aside clothing that would look professional for a trial. Something that wouldn’t make me look how I portrayed by the media. I was the informant for Danvers, not Rogg’s pet. I was essential to the investigation, not his toy. I went through hell, not his heaven. I woudl show him I wasn’t afraid of him, all while still being petrified.

“Y/n!” Bucky’s voice coudl be heard through the house, the echo reverberating all the way to the bedroom where I was. Each step he took made my stomach sink lower and lower. Dread filled my veins.

“Hey, Peter came by and said you closed early? Is sommething wrong?” He stopped in the doorway, processing the view of my clothing upon my bed, the suitcase of the floor, and my tearful expression.

“Hey, hey, hey” he envoloped me in his embrace, letting me cry into his chest.

“C’mon babe, you gotta talk me through this,” He echoed the words I would use when he had nightmares. His hand stroking the top of my head, his other rubbing along my back.

“I have to go.” I sniffled.

“Where, babe?”

“You know where.”

He pulled back, a hardened look on his face.

“I thought we agreed we wouldn’t be going.”

“Without me he goes free Bucky! I can’t let someone else face the same fate.” I rubbed my eyes. He backed away, hands on his hips.

“You wanna relive all that?”

“I have to.”

“No you don’t. You know it.” he pointed at me, his tone becoming harsh.

“I don’t trust him. After everything you said he did to you, you’re going back? You don’t think he’ll do that all over again, once he finds out what you did?”

“I’m in witness protection Bucky!”

“Then why was he here!? Explain that to me! Why was is it that I met that bastard? How are you safe closer to him than you are here!”

“I’m not arguing over this again! I made up my mind.”

“You’re safer here.”

“What would I be if I stayed?”

“Mine.”

I slammed the suitcase shut, holding back the tears.

“Get out James.” I said emotionless.

“Y/n-“

“Get. Out.” my lips quivered, I couldn’t look at him. I heard him mutter under his breath, stomping down the stairs.

“If something happens to you, don’t come crying to me!” He shouted from the front door, slamming it behind him. The thud echoed through the house, the reverb felt like a bomb went off.I stooped down to my knees, letting the tears flow like gysers. I spent the remainder of the evening alone, and packing what would last for the three weeks that I would be witnessing. Deep down I knew I wasn’t ready, I knew there would be a lot of tears to come. More than ever. Not having him with me would make it worse.

Still, I was done being afraid. I had to take a stand against him. If this was how I had to do it, so be it. My conscience is clear, he needed ot be put away. I did not care.

I dragged my suitcase down my steps, careful not to slip or fall. It was far more difficult with out the help of my boyfirend. I dressed in one of Bucky’s many band shirts and a pair of leggings, my hair in a ponytail. I oulled the card out of my jacket, pluggin the address into my phone for navigational purposes. With my phone in my waistband, I grabbed my cardigan and purse. I took one last look at my interior before walkingout my door.

A simple gaze across the street and I knew he wasn’t home. There was no life from his side of the street, the fog making it appear all the more dead. I sighed before walking to my vehicle. I opened the passenger door, tossing my cardigan and purse in the seat. I set my suitcase down, plugging my phone into the updated radio Bucky had installed in the classic car.

I shut the door, walking toward the trunk, opening the back door. I hauled the suitcase up, the heavy, hard-shelled object landing with a thud; making the car shake slightly. I shut the door with a thud, wiping the sweat off with the back of my hand. I looked up at my humble home. I knew I would return, but a gut feeling in me said I wouldn’t.

I walked back up to the passenger side, pullingout my keys from my purse. I strode up to my front door, triple checking that it was locked.

Just as I was about to turn around, I felt a hand upon my mouth, a cloth covering his hand. Colorform.

I held my breath, elbowing the assailant in the gut. He dropped the cloth, and I swatted it into one of the bushes near the door. I ran toward the car, desperate to grab the pepper spray I still kept in my purse. The man grabbed my torso, forming a chokehold upon my neck. I sturggled to break out of it, flailing widly in order to try and hit him to make the man break it. I pushed on my feet, sending us tumbling backward to the cement driveway with a thud.

I scrambled away from him, my lungs desperately clawing for oxygen. I got to the drivers door, opening it sluggishly. As I stood up, I felt a hand on the back of my head moments before it rammed me into the side of the bronco as hard as they could.

I was out before I even hit the pavement.

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