#maybe that’s why he tried to rock that caveman. he was taking out frustration on not being able to rough up these humans

[carefulzombie]

listen i’m not saying it was like. morally correct to jump straight to kidnapping but in the first doctors defense ian and barbara did break into what was essentially his house

[modestlyabsurd]

Compromised (Loki x Reader)

"We're gonna need reinforcements."

Steve Rogers tensed at Natasha Romanoff's grim implication.

The thought rolls around in his mind - all the possible conflicts, outcomes, subsequent issues. It's the last thing he wants to do. But those scenarios meshed with the image of God knows what's happening to you right now at the hands of God knows who.

All of them would rather not do it. What choice do they have, though? With the loss of your cell phone signal, and with no knowledge of who's behind this, it leaves them in an uncomfortable helpless rut.

For a second Steve gets angry at the matter. Of everyone in the compound - every employee, every intern, every agent, and not to mention the Avengers - why would someone target one of the youngest, most caring, innocent, good-doing people in the facility? Why you?

And then he realizes; the answers are there. They're obvious. That's why Natasha is resorting to this, knowing what it encompasses. This leaves him no choice but to use his training to twist that anger into pure determination before someone gets hurt.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," he concludes out loud.

Natasha gives a tight nod and rushes to go find Bruce Banner and Agent Maria Hill.

~

Illuminated by blue screens and beads of sweat, the agents' faces clearly reflect the matter at hand. Bruce presses his fingertips into his temple, Maria bites her nails in concentration, while Steve and Natasha exchange apprehensive glances. They can't bring themselves to look at the screen, the words "waiting for communication" looking coldly back. It never seemed to take this long for a reply.

Tony Stark and Clint Barton were promptly notified hours before at the beginning of the circumstance. While the rest of the world must continue to turn when duty calls, they've both been put on direct standby if needed.

Steve's wondering, staring that white spinning circle down, controlling his temper. Are these guys gonna pull through when needed the most? At this rate, going on twenty minutes of lost time spent waiting while you're still gone, he's losing patience. And with that, he's losing trust. Respect.

He only has faith in one God. But these guys are supposed to be dependable.

"Maybe we should reconsider this."

Natasha sighs, "Steve - "

"Look, we're wasting time." He uncrosses his arms defensively. "We need to be aggressively searching and we're just gonna sit here like lumps on a log?"

"We are searching, we've got every unit on it and every one is coming up cold. This is clearly out of our hands if we can't find any breadcrumbs whatsoever. It's our best bet."

"How do we even know they can help?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Natasha's rolling her eyes at Steve's frustrated nonsense when a distinct ping sounds from the oversized monitor, followed by Bruce stammering.

"Wait wait wait hold on, I got something," he clicks the mouse and types rapidly.

"Connection is established," a computerized female voice speaks. Everyone lets out sounds of relief simultaneously.

"Can we get verbal communication now?" says Maria impatiently, swiping her fringe from her eyes.

Bruce shifts as she hovers over him at the computer desk, "Should be able to - yeah, just give me a second ... " he trails off while clicking away at the tabs and windows popping up on the screen.

Steve shifts on his feet as well, anxious to make some sort of progress. He stares at the computer for answers, only to become even more frustrated because he doesn't understand anything he sees.

He does, however, understand the words "communication unavailable" in red letters spread across the screen. A swear word wisps from his throat quietly enough that no one else knew, along with words from the others.

"That's alright, just calm down. I still have a connection and can send them a distress signal," says Bruce.

"Well, get on it then!" Steve snaps.

It's not often that Natasha is the voice of reason. But when she needs to be, she's damn good at it. She may not even mind it, being the pacifier from time to time.

She steps in front of Steve's view, gentleness in her eyes looking up at him. "Why don't you go take a break? You might wanna recharge for a minute." She grins, "For lack of a better term."

Leaving everyone to their devices and standing idly by is not Steve Rogers' forte. Especially not when the life of someone he cares about is on the line, up for grabs. Out in limbo. What in the world happened her? he thinks, as a wave of pain ripples through his forehead. A stress-induced headache.

He massages the bridge of his nose in anguish. Maybe Natasha has a point. Come to think of it, he hasn't even had breakfast, as it draws into late-afternoon.

Little does he know how Natasha's manipulation skills are working so well. She convinces herself it's for the greater good - and she's right. What good is a distracted soldier in a war?

Steve gives in. For a little less than an hour he's supposed to be "recharging". When Agent Hill runs to the gym in Stark Tower and finds him destroying a punching bag down to the stuffing with his bare fists, she knows he's been fully charged.

Exactly what they needed.

Out of breath, she tries to catch Steve's attention. In his controlled stupor he hears nothing.

"Steve," Maria huffs, "Steve!"

He whips around mid-punch - sweaty, red-faced, arms bulging. Furious.

Maria nods rapidly, wide eyed. "We've got 'em on the line."

Steve and Agent Hill speed walk down the corridors to the computer lab. No sounds but that of their boots hitting the descending floor levels and their pounding heartbeats.

On the way Steve clears the rest of the clouds from his mind, what the workout couldn't get rid of. "How'd you get the connection?" he asks - not really meaning to out loud, but it filled the silence and slowed his mind down.

"Fury gave us the access code into one of our astro-energy receptors," her voice cracks with her steps, "Banner contacted Stark and was able to link JARVIS to the system which gave us a communication inlet. They've been exchanging written messages but ... we all agreed that you would likely be the best one to break the news."

"All this time with a line of communication and you haven't even told them?" Steve begins, but quickly stops himself. Now's not the time; this is good, this is progress. He doesn't skip another beat until they arrive to the lab.

When they walk in, Maria takes a backseat to Steve as he hesitates halfway to approach the computer. From across the room somewhere, Bruce sees something on the screen and squeezes by Steve's unusually intimidating frame. His eyes light up, "Looks like we've got a voice connection now."

He barely hears Bruce say that they've successfully got them en route, before politely shoving by him and Natasha to see the screen - again feeling like a caveman trying to comprehend it.

As a silence fills the thick air, Natasha knows why. She glances down and notices Steve's fingers twitching ever so slightly. From her position beside of Bruce, she lightly hits Bruce's bicep and motions to what she's seeing; Captain America instead of Steve Rogers.

Not quite as reassured as Natasha, Bruce watches his demeanor further. He follows his eyes studying the words on the monitor. It's then that it clicks; what's causing the change. Bruce gently prods him in the arm. "You wanna talk to him or ... ?"

"Yes."

After some clicks and typing, Bruce has the microphone set up. Steve looks off in the distance - away from what he's about to do.

"Does anybody copy?" he says.

A few seconds pass.

...

"Ah, the soldier." A mocking voice comes through. "Now what on Earth could ever bring you to speak to me?"

The room goes cold. Everyone's skin jumps just a bit as old memories flash back, but only for a moment. Composing himself, Steve speaks again.

"Loki ... She's been compromised."

~

Earth's mightiest heroes. That's what those incompetent fools call themselves.

The ones charged with keeping their home planet and those who reside in it protected from danger have allowed one of their own colleagues to be captured, right beneath their noses. And yet, the humans still trust them gravely. A mockery. A damned disgrace. Midgard never ceases to astonish.

On any day, issues such as this would be but the buzzing of a fly - it would never concern Loki, or any of Asgard for that matter. An alliance has been made and continues to be upheld, but no need to call in the help of another realm unless absolutely necessary.

But if they hadn't contacted Loki, if he'd  found out on his own, they would've had to restrain him like an animal and pray it would save themselves from being torn apart limb from limb.

Luckily for the Avengers, it didn't happen that way. Instead, he's here. Hiding under invisibility in the shadows of this dark, barren planet, far away from home. Surrounded by eerie black skies free of any sunshine. Feeling his way through cool walls of rock beneath his palms. All too familiar; a place he wished upon no one to be. Well actually, on second thought, he would possibly like to send the Avengers here ... but the last person deserving of this place is you.

You. His little Midgardian dove.

Your shy touch, soft eyes, your sweet kiss. Your warm embrace; him hating the fact that he loves - no, needs it. Your clammy hands; your blushed cheeks when he tangles his fingers with them. Your entire self lighting up whenever you see him, and for what he'll never understand. Your lovely little way of keeping him firmly grounded, yet on his toes at the same time.

Your captors took that when they took you. Left behind was a murderous rage in Loki.

But he doesn't act on it. Not just yet.

He's made himself a perch, a bird's eye view from ground level. Looking on at the place where everything changed just a few years prior, the fear he remembers, while just below the surface, seems a light-year away at the moment.

Over a boulder, he sees one of their ships in the distance. Steady streams of smoke coming from the rear indicated either an emergency landing, or failure from the ship's operator. He dials in closely. Guards lay motionless spread on the ground. Could it be ...?

Loki goes to gate of the ship. His suspicions are confirmed.

It's them. It's him.

Upon closer examination he sees their hideous faces twisted in agony, frozen in time. A smile pulls at him in brief satisfaction. Fitting, he thinks. He can't tell how the three of them died, but it's clear they're dead. He forces himself to peel his eyes away from the gratifying sight.

And just as soon as he does, he senses a presence approaching. Immediately he's contemplating a move before the being even knows he's there.

Loki drops the invisibility spell and starts to enter the rubble that's left of the ship. Nothing's really there to be found - though he's absolutely positive that at one point, possibly just moments ago, there was indeed something to be found.

The disturbance also caught the attention he wanted, an inhuman noise cutting the near silence.

"You do not belong here, Asgardian," it speaks in a guttural snarl.

Loki smirks and plays along. Without turning around, he raises his open hands in surrender. "Yes, you're right. Though I do terribly apologize for whatever has happened to your ship," he slowly turns.

Oh yes, it is them. He'd almost forgotten just how repulsive these creatures truly are. And they have you in their cold, evil hands.

Luckily, self-control is something Loki is quite skilled at.

The being that distinctly resembles the one he dealt with who he knew only as Other, tilts its head to the side, evaluating him.

Loki interjects before it can speak again, "If I may explain myself ... In truth, I've come looking for something; and on my search I came across this, this, wreckage. Ah, what a shame." He shakes his head, feigning pity. "But since you've survived, perhaps you would be willing to assist me."

The being grows suspicious.

"I may even be able to return the favor."

It bares its disgusting teeth and gums. "A gamble with the Chitauri?"

"I prefer a bargain. After all, you seem to be in a rather large predicament here," Loki motions to the crash site.

The creature appears to sadden at the loss of the ship for just a split second. That's all Loki needed - he knows it's convinced that their predicament is more severe than his. A breeze howls, blowing dark blue dust behind the creature's metal boots.

Seconds pass. Loki never breaks eye contact with the being, and lets his lack of fear be known.

"Yes," the creature hisses, "it would seem so. Of what assistance could you be to us?"

There's more of them somewhere, Loki's mind jumps.

He plays it off well. "I'm quite good directionally. If you tell me where your people's destination was, I could get you there faster than this ship would've."

Careful, he reminds himself. Seeing the two thumbs on the creature's gray hands flexing is a good indication not to get too snarky.

He thinks of you. It keeps him calm.

But then, the air changes.

Under his armor the skin of his arms raises in goose flesh. A shiver threatens to ripple through his body. He feels himself moving, although both him and the creature have remained still. Locked on each other. The sensation brings about memories he doesn't wish to revisit.

The being begins to raise its hand, to test him. To use its power to tear apart Loki's mind from the inside out. To graze him with concentrated pain. A defense mechanism, a torture method, and a good one at that.

It never got the opportunity. It fell to its knees after noticing Loki had disappeared. Pain barely registers behind its legs before a horrible stinging, burning, pounding feeling pours from its shoulder.

A continuous hissing wail erupts from its throat. Blinded by white hot pain. Instinctively a deformed hand reaches up to the wound, only to feel a handle of some sort sticking up from it.

The wails begin to get weaker, as the world darkens around the creature. As though it is falling into a bottomless pit; just before it slips into the abyss, an uncontrollable vivid vision plays in its mind.

Loki squeezed the creature's forehead as hard as he could, just for good measure.

He closed his eyes and watched the images. He recognized so much of it. The throne hovering above ground. The incredible starlight. He saw figures of those standing guard as well as the one in their grip - struggling, flailing, screaming. Fighting.

He grew angrier and angrier. Your hair, your clothes. Your body.

You.

Loki saw red. Dark, metallic, sticky red.

"Where is she?"

He made a point not to kill the being. A small dagger strategically laced with poison to keep the victim awake.

The being pants, mouth desperately hanging open. It drawls in a wave of pain, "I do not know who ... "

Loki twists the dagger.

Over gurgling yells, he growls next to the creature's head, "The girl. The human. The Midgardian, where is she?!" He screams the last of it.

Before it takes another breath Loki pulls the cold dagger out, then sinks it into the other shoulder. As the poison works, the being inwardly wishes for death. "Closer ... than you think," it chokes out.

"Where?!" He twists the dagger again, rendering the being morbidly defenseless.

It screams something in a foreign tongue. Loki's brow furrows, about to pivot the knife to pop the shoulder off when the images around him alter.

In a cloud of smoke, the rubble left from the crashed ship is revealed to be nothing but an illusion. The smoke clears to unveil the hidden sight; Chitauri standing in a defensive line ready to attack, and just behind that line is three or more of them - he cautiously looks closer to find that they're surrounding you.

That's all he needed.

He hesitates no further at the sight of you to raise the stabbed creature up, roughly pulling out the dagger and exposing its neck to it.

It's when he speaks that he realizes he's ran out of breath and his blood is running hot.

"Let her go ... or I will retrieve her myself."

The creature in his grasp shakes violently, whimpering, a blood-like substance oozing from both shoulders. Loki feels it getting on his hands, on his chin.

"Make your move," he taunts them.

A few of them cock their heads.

Then one of them raises a spear.

The knife sinks into the dying creature's neck and Loki drops it, conjuring and strategically throwing two more in a matter of seconds. Three Chitauri drop dead.

Five more come forward. Loki creates another two daggers and uses their momentum to slash critical points - the neck, chest, and head. He hits each with precision. Two larger Chitauri come barreling toward him as he conjures an illusion of himself, leading them a few feet away before throwing knives into their necks from behind. They drop with bleeding wounds.

One grabs his shoulder. Loki whips around with incredible speed and kicks the creature behind the knees then twists its neck, killing it instantly.

He's now facing you. Through wild strands of hair he makes eye contact with you. You're a distance away, held in place by chains to a boulder. His throat flutters at your loving eyes.

He gets lost in them, as always. His feet slowly take him over to you, and he sees the marks on your face. No, no no no, his mind starts racing at what they've done to you, when a hard blow to the middle of his back knocks him to his knees.

He sees the sky, now a dusty brown haze.

He feels the tip of a cold metal at the back of his neck.

You gasp, afraid to make a sound. You can't breathe, you can't think, seeing Loki with a spear to his neck.

The alien son of a bitch says something to him, but you can't hear it from your position as well as over the amplified sound of your blood pumping. Loki's face curled up in pain ...

His hands are up, his eyes squinted shut. The alien begins stepping closer to his back, angling the spear downward toward his spine. He winces, making your entire body jerk against the restraints like a rabid dog. A defenseless rabid dog.

Loki opens his eyes, locking with yours. You watch as the alien steps flush against his back, the spear pointed straight down against his skin. You see something in him you've only seen maybe once - and never in such a circumstance - fear. He's scared of dying.

You panic. In a frenzy you look around for something, anything, and quickly realize there's nothing you can do. No way to distract. No way to kill. You can barely even move for fuck's sake.

Loki eyes you, trying to ask something. You shake your head, not understanding, but then you quickly see it. Unbeknownst to the alien he's conjured another blade, but he can't see where to swing it.

You become his eyes. He needs a kill shot. The blade is in his right hand. Keeping eye contact, you wiggle your left foot. Rock scrapes beneath your shoe.

Thank goodness, he understood that primary gesture.

He whips his arm around and slices the alien's Achilles tendon open.

The ground thumps with the fall. Loki stands up and crouches over the alien; you see his arm swinging down near its face multiple times, until it doesn't move anymore.

This time, when he sees you, he doesn't walk leisurely. He runs his ass off and nearly crashes into you.

As his hands go to the chains around you, you can't take your eyes off him. It doesn't feel real. None of it feels real up to this point. All this time you've felt so heavy, like cinder blocks. The smell of travels, sweat, blood and that of Loki envelopes you, his frame shadowing you from the massacre that just occurred.

You've been staring at his chest. You lift your head to his face, and you feel light as a feather. Pure, unrefined relief in a physical form looks like Loki. You can almost taste it it's so sweet.

You hear his heavy breathing, the washing sound of a radio speaking the words "Congratulations, you're an Avenger now", and the clangs of metal falling to the ground piece by piece. The coldness falls from your skin, replaced by the familiar coldness of his hands on your cheeks.

He says something, you don't quite catch it. "Are you alright, my dear? Did they hurt you?" he says louder, gently shaking your head.

"You found me," it comes out as a weak whisper. "How ... ?"

His face flashes with disdain at the thought of those imbecile Avengers. "I had a bit of help. A small, small bit," he smiles at you, resisting the want to hold you close to him and never ever let you go again. He squeezes your cheeks in his hands and gives you a long kiss to your forehead.

You smile tiredly, falling into his chest. "I've never seen you fight like that," you murmer.

He tenses, "I know. I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve to see that."

You look up, your chin against the brass of his chest plate. "I thought it was pretty hot."

~

tag list: @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @afinedilemma @fire-in-her-veinz @paradisaicsam @drakesfiance

[iwillbeinmynest]

An Owed Debt- Bucky x May(oc) Chapter 9

Authors notes: Thank you to the few of you who are reading and giving me feedback on this, It’s really encouraging. :)

Notes/Warnings: Not much of anything until the ending, being drugged.

Bucky waited to tell May. She had woken up the next morning in such a chipper mood that he couldn’t bring himself to let her down. She even made waffles. How do you tell the best waffle maker, in the whole of New York, that she might be being targeted by the same people who made him what he was, who might have killed her parents?

 So, he didn’t.

 “What’s got you in such a good mood?” He grinned with a little drip of syrup running down from the corner of his mouth.

 “Not you,” She chuckled and threw him a rag. “You eat like a caveman.”

 Bucky smirked, it was true, especially when he was home.

 “I’m happy because Travis is coming over tonight.” She turned her back as she delivered her news, knowing his reaction would be anything but rational.

 Bucky choked on his food and coughed for a solid minute. “Excuse me?”

 “Don’t freak out. I was texting him last night and Invited him over.” May raised her hands and her voice to make sure she could finish explaining. “I know you don’t really like him and this way you can keep an eye on him, since I know you’d follow us to where we went anyways.”

 Bucky inhaled to protest but closed his mouth into a tight line. She wasn’t wrong. There’s no way he would leave her alone with Travis. He still didn’t like that kid, even if he wasn’t completely sure why.

 “Please, Buck!” She begged with puppy dog eyes.

 He hung his head and exhaled. Rebecca used to do that, it worked every time. “Fine,” He complied and May let out a mouse-like squeal. Bucky held up a finger and looked at her sternly. “But all doors stay open. And there will be absolutely no... nonsense what-so-ever.”

 “Just dinner.” May beamed.

 “Just dinner, maybe some T.V. but he’s out of here by ten.” He finished.

 “Okay!” may bounced on her toes and ran over to wrap her arms around his neck. “Thank you so much!” She grabbed her phone and hopped over the back of the couch to, what Bucky could only assume, text Travis.

 He was amazed how much of difference there was in her from the day they met. She was scared and cold to him and now she joked and smiled all the time. She was happy. If he was being honest with himself, he was happy, too. She made things worth doing.

 He trained to make sure he could keep her safe. He taught her some fighting maneuvers to make sure she could take care of herself if he wasn’t around. He kept the house clean to provide a comfortable living space for her, as opposed to just appeasing Steve when he stopped by. He told his stories to help her focus. He made sure to take care of himself like he did when he had his sisters depending on him.

 As he finished his breakfast, he found himself wondering what kind of grandfather Monty would have been. He chuckled as he imagined Monty with a walker or rocking on a front porch telling war stories. He probably would have exaggerated everything, making himself seem a little more heroic, although, he already was a hero.

 Bucky looked over his shoulder and smiled when he saw May grinning from ear to ear while her thumbs tapped away at the screen of her phone. She kind of looked like Monty for a second. She had that ‘life is exciting’ smile that Monty always wore.

 Bucky really missed him. He was a good man.

 The rapping on the door finally gave May something to do and she hurried to the door. Bucky had watched her wander aimlessly through the house for the last hour. She had gotten ready early, dawning jeans and a floral shirt that actually looked really nice on her and she had been trying not to go stir crazy.

 She swung open the door with a wide smile and Bucky eyed the doorway. Travis was at least dressed normally, this time. Jeans and a t-shirt. He still didn’t like him.

 “Hi.” May practically radiated excitement.

 “Hey,” Travis smiled and his eyes darted to Bucky before they resettled on May. “You look amazing.”

 May blushed and stepped aside. “Please, come in and make your self at home.”

 Please don’t, Bucky thought.

 Travis nodded his head and pulled his lips into a tight smile. “Hey, man, what’s up?”

 Bucky could punch this kid. But at least he was succeeding in making him feel uncomfortable. “Hey.”

 “I’m really glad you invited me over.” Travis grinned and stared at May, doing anything to avoid Bucky, at this point.

 “Yeah, well, you sort of saved my life the other night, so, the least I could do for you was make dinner.” She smiled. Now, Bucky really wanted to punch him. That kid didn’t do anything for her at the club.

 Bucky stood up from the couch, he was getting too frustrated, too quickly. If he didn’t want to ruin this for may he’d have to leave the room, but at least she’ll get to have one more night of fun before he drops the news that they will be relocating.

 “You made this?” Travis eyed the lasagna with raised eye brows.

 “Yeah, I like cooking.” May shrugged her shoulders. Bucky shuffled into the kitchen and grabbed a plate.

 May and Travis quieted involuntarily. The small crowd served themselves and May and Travis sat across from each other at the tiny dining room table. Bucky headed towards his room and May seemed genuinely concerned.

 “We can add a chair, Bucky. It’s no problem.” May offered.

 Bucky waved his hand and shook his head, trying to finish the bite he had already taken. “No, no, it’s okay. You kids enjoy your dinner.” He doubled back after he had a flash of a memory. It was a blonde memory, in a corner booth of a slow diner. “I’m leaving my door open, though.” He eyed Travis, squinting to silently warn him that he’d better treat her right. Travis closed his slack jaw and tapped his fork on his plate.

 May’s eyes widened and she hid her face beneath her hands. Bucky swears he heard her curse under her breath and he smirked at properly embarrassing the teenager in his house. 

 He bumped the door open with his elbow as he took another bite.  This lasagna was heaven. May might not know how her brain works but she sure knew how to cook. She'd turn in her grave if he ever said it out loud, but Bucky thought May was a better cook than his own mother.

 May shook her head. “I’m so sorry.”

 Travis chuckled still avoiding eye contact with her. “It's fine, I get it.”

 “Anyway...” May didn’t have anything to say after that and the silence was tangible.

 “Yeah,” He grinned. “So, about last week...at the club.”

 May bit her lip and poked at her food. “Yeah, I get...migraines, really bad.”

 Travis nodded slightly. “Migraines?”

 “Yeah, it’s...hereditary.”

 “You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to.” Travis reached out and held her hand on top of the table.

 “Thanks.” She smiled.

 “So... Bucky. He hates me doesn’t he?” Travis chuckled and let go of her hand to pick up his garlic bread.

 “Yeah, he can be a little intense but he means well.” She chuckled, deliberately not denying Bucky’s feelings towards Travis.

 “Is he your dad or something?” Travis asked casually as he took a bite.

 May’s heart raced. She hadn’t thought about her dad all day and she felt terribly guilty about it. She was so excited about seeing Travis that she had forgotten to be sad about loosing her parents. But wasn’t that okay? Wasn’t she supposed to move on? It had already been a few months, sure she’d always miss them but that didn’t mean she had to grieve everyday.

 “Um,” She poked at her plate and picked at the cuticles on her thumb. “No, I lost my parents a few months ago. Car accident.”

 “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up something so painful. I-”

 May shook her head and waived her hand. “No, it’s fine. You didn’t know.”

 Travis gave a rueful smile and put his silverware down, giving may his full attention. “I haven’t really made great conversation tonight, have I?”

 May chuckled with wet eyes. “No, not really.”

 “I’m sorry, you make me nervous.” Travis muttered embarrassed.

 “Really?” She grinned, remembering the way he looked at her.

 “Yeah, you’re...gorgeous.” He smiled. He hurried up from his seat and went to the kitchen, pouring them both a glass of water. He placed one in front of may and she thanked him. “Of course, beautiful. I’ll be right back, okay? Drink up.”

 May politely took a sip and smiled up at him.

 Bucky rolled his eyes at the conversation that he couldn’t help but over hear. Travis was a charmer, he’d give him that. He had May infatuated with him. Bucky almost gave himself a headache from the dramatic roll of his eyes. Bucky ran his hands over his face. He sat up to take his plate to the kitchen and try and cause a disturbance to the evening, but jerked in shock when Travis stood in doorway.

 “Hey, man,” Travis stepped into Bucky’s room and offered him a glass of water. “I just wanted to make peace. May told me you didn’t like me and I just want you know that I only have the best in mind for her.”

 Bucky took the glass and eyed it suspiciously. “She said that, huh?”

 “Drink it.” Travis prompted with and uncomfortable grin.

 Red flag. Bucky stood up and tried to see into the living room from over Travis’ shoulder but his view was obstructed. “Where’s May?”

 “Relax, Buddy, she’s fine. Take a drink.” Travis reassured. Bucky tried to step forward to push past Travis but found it impossible to move. He looked at Travis wide-eyed. “Drink.” Travis demanded. Bucky couldn’t stop his arm from raising the cup to his mouth and he couldn’t keep his lips closed. The water tasted sour and instantly he felt drowsy and heavy.

 He finally had control of his feet again and he stumbled backwards, tripping over a chair and landing with a thud on his hardwood floor. “..May...”

 Travis was no more than a blurry figure descending down upon him and his voice was muffled, but Bucky was sure he heard him say “She’s gonna be just fine, Soldat.”

An Owed Debt Tags:

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Forever tags:

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