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A Bucky Barnes Winter Soldier Fic - The Constant	By : TheConstant1944 Category: Marvel Verse Comics > Captain America Views: 2391 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any Marvel characters. They are solely owned by Marvel and MCU. No money is made from this story.

Chapter List
- 46
- 47
- 48
Chapter Forty-Seven
Behind Closed Doors

Authors note: Just a reminder of who some of the players are:
Eric Jakobs - Doctor at Hydra Camp
Jackson Caldwell - Winter Soldier Handler
Elise & Peter - Part of the team responsible for programming the Winter Soldier
Kristo Salk - Orderly at Hydra Base
Serge Zolnerowich - Marinov's number two
Stefan Yegorov - Orderly at Hydra Base and friend to Freya
Sophia - Works in the kitchens at Hydra Base
*
Do you ever wonder what happens behind the closed doors at night when everyone is asleep?
The guard pauses to beg a light from his friend. He doesn't know it but his friend will be dead within six months; the cigarette in his mouth is helping bang yet another nail into his coffin. He thinks his weight loss is because he is exercising more, but he is annoyed he is having to get up more to pee in the night. It hasn't occurred to him it might be something else.
He has pancreatic cancer.
“Cold night. Trust you to get the better duty!” But it is said in jest. He is to patrol outside whilst his friend gets to check the corridors within.
Another normal night.
The guard we are following steps into the building and starts to walk the floors. He is looking for anything out of the ordinary but most people are asleep. He knows who and what is behind most of the closed doors.
Although he is conscientious, his mind is also on other things. Her name is Sophia and she works in the kitchens. He has never met anyone like her before, and he is besotted. As he walks along he plans out his whole life with her. And he is lucky. The two of them will stay together, marry and live to see their five children grow up to have families of their own. But all that is all in the future. He is luckier that the other guard in so many ways.
*
Eric Jakobs
We pass the door leading to Eric Jakobs' room. He is in there sleeping. It is not a pleasant sleep and in the morning he will wake feeling tired and out-of-sorts. In his dream, he is climbing up a hill. The sun is shining and he can hear the birds sing. The grass is green underfoot and his son is ahead of him, running.
“Wait for me!” he calls. He looks behind him at his wife who is laying out the picnic blanket. Their daughter is helping her. He looks forward again and is beginning to feel apprehensive as his son disappears over the brow of the hill.
“Wait,” he calls again. The sky, once blue, is now marred by clouds coming in. He hurries and reaches the top of the hill and can see his son running down the other side, kite string unravelling in his hand, and for a moment he watches the kite lift and soar like some magical beast. Another bank of clouds scud in front of the sun and he shivers as a gentle wind wafts by. He looks back to the kite but it has disappeared. So has his son.
He cannot move.
There is a figure of a young man climbing upwards towards him. The figure is blurred but lifts its hand to wave to him, and as it comes closer he recognises him. It is James Barnes.
Jakobs has forgotten he was here with his son. He has forgotten the day of the picnic. He can see that James is smiling. He is dressed in trousers and a shirt; his hair is short.
Jakobs can smell smoke. He looks around and then to the side of him he can see it. Fire. It is sweeping the side of the hill, scorching the grass, turning it black, turning everything black. The fire will miss him, but not James.
“Run!” he yells frantically, waving at James but all that accomplishes is to make James stop, doubt on his face.
“Run, for Gods' sake, run!” Jakobs yells. He still cannot move so he tries to point towards the fire coming nearer. He sees James' face the minute he realises the danger. But James can't run, instead he is struggling. A long red plant has grown up around his legs, long tentacles growing upward to stop the young man from being able to move. And Jakobs hears his voice.
“Help me.” He is looking at Jakobs, but Jakobs still cannot move and has to watch in horror as the fire reaches the struggling form. Then he hears James screaming.
“Help me please! For Gods' sake!”
And then there are no words, just screams of agony as the young man becomes a pillar of fire until the flames sweep past and leaves a blackened twisted husk which sinks slowly to the ground.
Jakobs is crying and gasping. “No...no...no...” He puts his hands over his face and falls to his knees. He can hear the crackling of the fire as it sweeps away down the hillside.
And then he hears the voice again.
He opens his eyes and looks forward. The blackened figure is trying to stand, and as it does it becomes something else. He watches with utter dread as James Barnes becomes the Winter Soldier, who then begins to walk towards him - but this figure has been burned, too. His clothes flutter on him in tatters, the skin underneath blackened, and in places Jakobs can see bone poking through. The figure almost falls but it steadies itself and then continues to make its way towards him, its murderous eyes watching as it comes closer. The lips have been burnt away; the teeth are black and gums swollen. In the figure's right hand and trailing behind on the wind is his son's kite. It is untouched by the fire.
He still cannot move and he is sure that as the figure is getting closer he can smell the burnt flesh and hair. Only the eyes have not been affected by the fire. The accusations in them, the hatred for him. And finally it is only a few feet away and reaching out its skeletal hand, the voice angry, fractious, broken by the fire.
“You could have helped me. You could have saved me.”
As the bones of the hand come down onto his shoulder he wakes crying out, brushing his shoulder, almost falling out of bed in his haste to get away from the nightmare figure.
He knows it is just a nightmare. He knows what it is trying to tell him and that there will be no peace from it. It is not every night but enough to make him wish sometimes he could go without sleep. Some nights he swallows a handful of sleeping pills to banish his mind to dreamless sleep.
He swings to sit on the side of the bed, reaching for the lamp and sits there sweat drying on his face.
The guard outside hears nothing.
*
Jackson Caldwell
Jackson Caldwell's bedroom is empty. The guard would expect nothing less. The man seems to hardly need any sleep; they don't know how he does it. He knows he will pass Caldwell's office and the door, although firmly closed, will show the light on under it. Jackson will be in there finishing up for the day and wishing for the umpteenth time that he could allow alcohol onto the base. He reaches for his cup and goes to drink the coffee but it is cold and he grimaces, but drinks it anyway. He is looking at a confidential memo in his hand from his father.
His father is one of the top men in Hydra, making Jackson second generation Hydra.
They have identified a potential threat. Another organisation coming out of the shadows from time to time before slinking back into them. Never letting itself be seen for long enough. It is trying to infiltrate Hydra. It wants its technology. But they do not know who is running it, who is behind it.
Jackson puts the memo into the shredder. It is too dangerous to keep and Jackson will remember the details anyway. He would never dream of letting his father down but until they can find out more, he cannot help. He needs a name and once he has one he can send their asset out to begin destroying.
It doesn't occur to him that his asset is a piece of technology. A piece of Hydra technology. A piece of technology the other organisation may already have on its wants list. The organisation is nowhere near as large and as powerful as Hydra, but it is as hungry. It does not know of the serum but it does know of the fabled blue energy that powers Hydra, that powers the Winter Soldier's arm, and the technology in that arm would be worth millions to them.
They want it. Hydra doesn't know that yet.
Jackson decides to retire for the night, and as he locks his office he wishes the guard walking past a good night.
The guard beams and stands taller. Jackson knows how to look after his staff, how to have them eating out of his hand, wanting to please him. It doesn't take a lot. He has learnt that from his father, the Senator.
As the guard walks along, thinking once again about how he respects the man at the top who even speaks to his subordinates, he turns into the corridor he least likes. It runs along the programming suite. He tries the doors to ensure they are locked. Only once has he been on duty outside those doors when they have been programming the Winter Soldier, and he had never seen someone so torn apart. He does not know which is worse; watching the wiping machine tear the soldier to pieces or the programming suite put him back together again. There is not a lot of difference in the screams that emanate in both procedures. One just goes on longer than the other.
The doors are firmly locked. He can rest easy and carry on.
*
Elise
Her room is always quiet but sometimes if they listen carefully they can hear her talking to herself. She is an odd woman, one they cannot get to like. In fact, very few people like her: she is cold, unbending. Perhaps if they knew they would be more understanding, but no-one knows about her past. It is what made her who she is today. She hates so deeply sometimes that it makes her feel sick and she turns to drink. The only one who knows this secret is Peter, but he does not know why she drinks. He loves her; again he doesn't know why but he does and all he can do is try and protect her whilst she spends her time pushing him away. She will never be able to love, her hatred is all-consuming.
She hates men. She hates soldiers.
And most of all, she hates Americans.
Unfortunately, the Winter Soldier is all three.
When they are programming him, she and Peter frequently argue about how deep the programming is done. Peter knows some of it doesn't need to be done with the parameters set so high but Elise will always place the equipment at their highest setting. She wants it to hurt.
She will always punish the Winter Soldier for what happened to her.
At the age of fifteen, Elise had her entire life ahead of her. She was innocent. People liked her, her parents loved her. She made them proud, their beautiful daughter. She could not wait for the day when she would meet the man of her dreams, settle down, and have a family. Her dreams were always what made her innocent.
Until the Americans came to the small French town where she lived. Until she fell head over heels in love with a soldier, one that turned her head and for the first time ever persuaded her to disobey her parents.
Her curfew was nine o'clock, and once she was in bed her parents would finish up the day and retire, never checking on their daughter because there would be no need to ever do that.
Twice he had seen her in the market and talked to her. Then the third day he made her promise to see him again – that night.
So for the first time ever she dressed in her best clothes and snuck out when she should have been asleep in bed. She felt so grown up, so alive, so happy that she kept giggling to herself. His name he said was Ted, short for Edward. He is was handsome in his uniform, so gallant when he helped her at the market earlier, so attentive. She was a beautiful girl and he told her so. Asked her to go dancing with him that night.
She knew her parents would say no. She had already heard her mother talking with the other mothers over how brash and free and easy these American soldiers were.
Elise didn't realise just how much her mother was right. She didn't know it was Ted's last night here. Didn't know how he had watched her body, her lips, and decided he wanted them.
Didn't know what she was really letting herself in for.
He persuaded her to meet him, told her how grown up she was. How he would treat her like a lady, dance with her, and see her home afterwards.
She always remembers that when she is at her most insobriety. He did see her home afterwards. Did he lie to her?
He treated her like a lady.
He danced with her.
He saw her home.
It was everything that happened in between that destroyed her life.
He had taken her to a club in the next town over. But what she thought was a date between them turned out to be date of four: her, and thee soldiers. She was nervous but they treated her so courteously. Smiled at her, danced with her, taught her new moves, asked her questions, made her feel like a princess whilst they plied her with alcohol. She had only ever drunk small amounts of wine before at home. No spirits.
As the time got later she forgot about her parents, forgot about getting home - until the cold air hits her.
Instead of being at home, safe in her bed, she was lying in the middle of a cornfield, the corn stalks flattened around her. Two of them were holding her down whilst Ted undid her dress, pulled off her underwear and then raped her. And then the others took their turn. She tried to struggle, tried to say no, tried to stop them, but the drink had muddled her brain, numbed her mouth, and each time they took her one of them covered her mouth with their dirty hand. They didn't want to hear what she was saying, what she was begging.
When they had finished they put her back in the car. She had been sick down her dress and her hair was knotted, tangled. They saw her to the outskirts of her small town, opened the car door, pushed her out to find her way to her home. She had no shoes, her underwear was missing, her dress torn, her skin bruised, scratched. Worse, her soul was open and bleeding.
How she got to her front door she never remembered. It was locked. She went around to the back door; her intention at the beginning of the evening was to climb back into her bedroom via the window she had left ajar. Now, sobbing, she found the back door key and stumbled into the kitchen and up the stairs to her parents bedroom.
She wanted her mother. She needed safety. She was in shock.
When she had first stumbled into their room her parents could not work out what had happened. Their daughter was standing there crying, her clothes torn. They listened to her hysterical ramblings, took in her appearance, smelt the alcohol on her breath and the vomit on her clothes.
And then they realised the truth.
And what did they do? Something much worse than what the soldiers had done to her.
They were hysterical. They told her it was her own fault. They told her she was dirty, that she was a whore. How could she let them down like this? They had thought more of her. What would happen if the neighbours found out? Their friends? Their priest?
Instead of being there for her, they withdrew their love. Showed her nothing but anger and contempt. Her mother took her to the bathroom, told her to remove her clothes and then scrubbed her poor and broken body until it bled more. Told her she would never be clean again, that she was spoilt. No man would ever want her. She had ruined her own life.
They told their friends she was unwell and that is why they did not see her as often walking down the street, or out running errands. Every day they made her kneel at her bedside for hours to pray for forgiveness. To pray for being such a bad daughter, for being a sinner.
Her father would never look at her again.
And Elise?
Elise not only lost her innocence that night, she lost her life. She became quiet, almost a recluse. She didn't smile any more. She withdrew into herself. She believed everything her parents told her about herself and she learnt to hate. And whilst she knelt there, she learnt to internalise everything, learnt that no-one would ever be there for her. People say they love you, but they lie.
No one could ever love her. And she would never be able to love someone again.
But...hate? That was something she could do.
At times, when they are running the script for the Winter Soldier's new perception of his Constant, Elise sometimes would whisper in his ear whilst he took in the information, piggybacking her cruel words into the programming. She would rub between his legs, make him hard, tell him how Freya slept with the other men, fucked the other men, how she was such a whore. And afterwards Peter would ask her why she hated the woman so much. Her reply was always one that Lehmann would have applauded.
“Because she loves him, and she is a fool. She deserves all she gets.”
Those soldiers took her life that day, and she has been on borrowed time ever since.
There were days Peter would find her so drunk she was unable to even put herself to bed. He would cover for her, hide the bottle, despairing because he could not find out where she was getting the alcohol from. He cannot ask anyone to help him.
He tries to stop Elise from spilling all her vitriol into the Winter Soldier's ear as they programme him. But most times all he can do is listen to the evil she is saying, watching as her hand made the Winter Soldier hard and then leaves him wanting.
Those days were always the worst, and today had been such a day.
*
The Winter Soldier & His Whore
The guard can hear the foot fall behind him getting closer. The person is not trying to disguise the fact he is there, if he had been the guard would have never have known until it was too late. He turns not realising the Winter Soldier would be so close to him and he cannot help but step back as the man glowers at him.
“Just doing my rounds,” the guard stutters, as if he has to explain himself. This Soldier terrifies him, not just because he is taller, meaner, but because he has only recently been programmed and they know at this time he is at his worst.
The Soldier has been running. The guard knows this because he saw him earlier. He still looks pent up and yet he must have run for miles. He can see the anger in him, and the guard flattens himself against the wall as the soldier looks at him once more before striding past and up to the door of his quarters. He looks back at the guard who hurries past and keeps going. He doesn't want to know what will happen behind that closed door this night.
The Winter Soldier opens the door quietly and goes into his rooms. He is still angry, still ready to hurt someone. He thinks about what they told him in programming. The truth about the woman he is with.
It is late, and the woman has gone to bed but she is supposed to be here for him and he feels the anger inside him build. A rush of adrenaline surges through his body and he groans inwardly.
He wants her. Needs the release. They have said she is his but told him she sleeps with other men. How many men has she had before him? He hadn't wanted to touch her, pushed her away when she tried to touch him earlier but now his balls ache and when he takes a shower he finds he cannot relieve himself, cannot have the release he so badly needs.
She is in her bed asleep, on her back, one hand thrown up next to her head, the other resting on her front. It is warm in the room and the blankets are pushed down. She has left two lamps on for when he comes back so he can find his way about. He can see her clearly.
A gentle breeze is coming in from one of the patio doors. He looks at her. He has watched her sleep many times before but he doesn’t know that. He watches the rise and fall of her chest; can see the outlines of her nipples against her nightdress, her soft skin, and he can smell her delicate perfume. Her mouth. He wants to feel the touch of it on his skin; the very thought of it making him so hard it hurts.
He can see the red star on the top of her left arm. He wonders who carved it into her, and if it was done to please him? It's as if she has been branded, a red star meaning she belongs to the Winter Soldier, to him alone. He hasn't seen her naked this time yet, doesn’t know she has another small less visible star carved into the top of her inside thigh, another warning should anyone think she was free. She is not, and in that she is exactly the same as him, a prisoner - only hers is through choice. Or so she believes.
He has a memory of stroking that skin and he knows how it would feel. Soft. It angers him that he must have used her before but he can't remember but at the same time he feels a tightening of his balls. He needs her...but who else has touched her before? Does she still sleep with other men? He sees the way her hair is still curled in a ponytail and laying on the pillow but it is fighting to come out of its confinement and he wants to run it through his finger tips.
He steps closer and touches it and it wakens her. He sees fear in her eyes before she tries to mask it. He doesn’t want her to talk, doesn’t want her to touch him. He will do the touching. He is so close to coming. Without considering what he is doing, his hand tightens on her hair and he climbs on the bed, kneeling over her forcing her arms down by her side and trapping her shoulders with his knees either side of her. He sees the fear resurface and it makes him harder and the pain in his balls starts to throb.
She tries to move but he doesn't let her. She tries to talk but he doesn’t listen. Just puts more pressure on her so that she is having trouble breathing. He doesn’t know, doesn’t remember that he has raped her before many times, before he knows who she truly is.
Elise has done her job well. This time he doesn’t want to fuck her down there, where the other men have been. He wants to fuck her mouth, watch as she struggles, as she begs him with her eyes to stop. He clenches her hair in his fist and then moves that hand under her head pulling it up. Her eyes are wide and he can feel her body tremble under him, he has so much power over her.
“Open your mouth,” he growls and he watches as she hesitates. A single tear rolls down her face. “I said...open your mouth, whore.” His hand tightens even more and she whimpers but does what he says.
He leans forward, using his metal hand to pull down his shorts and release himself, then he uses it to lean against the wall above her bed. He pushes his hard cock into her mouth and he brings her head up higher. He doesn’t do it slowly but rams it in straight down her throat and he feels the soft wetness of her mouth and he is so close it won't take a lot of thrusting to come.
He watches her face each time he thrusts himself in. She is choking, he can hear her, she is trying to move her arms, trying to move her head but he has such a tight grip on her. He can see her eyes are wide with panic and he can hear her trying to cough and then he feels himself coming. His head goes back and he closes his eyes, teeth clenched and he explodes into her mouth, into her throat. His body is shuddering and he opens his eyes and looks back down at her. He knows his semen is running down her throat making her cough and choke, she is crying, her eyes watering because she cannot breathe.
He knows it won't be long until she stops breathing and he watches, fascinated by the way he is still jerking in her mouth as if everything has slowed. He nearly misses it, the point he needs to let her breathe, but he has finished and pulls away from her, letting go of the wall and her hair at the same time. Watching as she tries to turn her head, tries to sit up but he is still pinning her down. She is able to free one of her hands and it beats pathetically against his leg trying to get him to move, and he does.
He climbs off the bed as she comes up leaning over the side vomiting onto the floor, semen mixed with food, bile, and she is coughing hard. Her hands clench the side of the bed, her nightdress rucked up as she vomits again, crying and trying to take in air. He watches impassively and steps back as the liquid seeps towards his feet. Then she is holding herself up, trying to wipe her face with the edge of the sheet, breathing heavily before she has to turn again and this time it is just bile she brings up. She is aware of him just stood there and he doesn’t know but it is breaking her heart. She wants to ask him to help her but she knows he won't. She is nothing to him at this point.
She gulps and lays back on the bed. She doesn’t smell so sweet now. He can smell the disgusting cloying acrid vomit and her face is sweaty and smeared with tears. She has vomited down her nightdress and part of the bed and her eyes are closed and she is concentrating on breathing. How could he have used her? How could he have touched her? She disgusts him. As if she can read his thoughts she opens her eyes but avoids looking at him. Instead she tries to sit up using the side of the bed and then swings her feet around, narrowly missing the mess on the floor.
He steps back again and this time she looks up at him and her eyes are full of sadness. He feels nothing but disgust as he looks at her and then he turns and walks away to clean himself up, clean her smell of his cock. He no longer feels hyper. The adrenaline has drained from his muscles, from his body, his balls no longer ache and he needs to sleep.
When he comes out of the bathroom he can see her on her knees trying to clear up the mess she has made but he ignores her. She has served her purpose and is no longer of interest. He climbs into his bed and is asleep by the time she goes by to get to the bathroom. He doesn’t see the wide path she treads to make sure she is as far away from him as she can be. He doesn’t hear her retch again in there or know she is crying whilst she showers the mess away. Why should he. She is nothing to him, nothing at all.
*
Kristo Salk
Just a few more places for the guard to check and then he will end up in the canteen. Sophia is on duty tonight and he will be pleased to see her. He has been practising in his head on what he wants to say to her, on how to ask her out, and he is wired.
He sees the orderly, Kristo, and stops for a few moments to chat with him before Kristo opens his door to go to bed for the night. He has been on the late shift and will be glad to fall into bed.
Once he has closed the door and switched the light on, Kristo moves around the room, humming. He will grab a shower and then crash into bed. He is not on again until midday tomorrow so will have plenty of time to sleep. He runs over the conversation he had earlier with Serge Zolnerowich. They are trying to locate where the alcohol is coming into the camp, and Serge knows how Kristo can usually get anybody anything for a price - but Kristo has to admit this time it is not him.
“I haven't a clue,” he tells Serge when Serge asks him who it is, and the thing with Kristo is he is easy to believe because he is one of life's gentle people. Kristo hates lying to people. Of course he knows who is responsible, but he also knows the penalty attached to the crime. He will warn the person to keep a low profile instead. Kristo has seen too much of death in this camp and does not want to see any more.
He climbs into bed, switches the light out, and pulls the covers over his shoulders. He prays he will have a nightmare-free night. On normal days he can more or less guarantee it, but on days the Winter Soldier is awake the dreams come back to haunt him. He only ever saw the aftermath of what was done each time to the American but despite Kristo at the time thinking he was worldly-wise, he knows now he wasn't. He didn't realise just what cruel things people could do to one another.
*
Stefan Yegorov
Stefan closes his door quietly seconds before the guard comes around the corner. He leans against it as the guard walks by and listens to the receding footsteps. It would not have been bad if the guard had seen him just coming back to his rooms...but it was something he didn't want to advertise.
It is not often Stefan feels this relaxed, but this is how Jan makes him feel. Both men know it isn't love; it is more a sharing of how they are in life but each is grateful to have each other, to feel normal in their presence, to be able to talk to.
And good sex is always an added bonus.
He undresses and gets into bed. He is on an early start in the morning. The Winter Soldier will be on mission and whilst he and Freya are out of cryo there is some serious maintenance that needs to be done on the pods. He also needs to see if he can talk to Eric and Eduard. They need to discuss how Stefan is going to try and get in on the latest undertaking being brought into their compound.
Computers.
Jackson Caldwell has been a good thing for Project Winter Soldier and he always wants to keep everything up to date. They are going to be investing in new hardware for not just the cryo-freeze suite, but for the main room as well and he is keen to computerise as much of the work as he can. Whilst Jakobs says it goes way over his head, Stefan is more open to what is happening and understands more. He has already made Caldwell aware of how he would like to learn more about the future technology and how it can be incorporated into their project.
At the moment the information they hide is written down or on tape. Think how much better it would be if it was hidden within the projects mainframes, updated and kept safe. There for all eternity.
As he falls asleep Stefan's last thoughts are back on Jan and when they can next see each other. He remembers the feel of Jan's lips on his, how his hands moved over him, and he tingles. He sees Jan's smile again and how he leant so close to Stefan. He remembers the first time they slept together, worried that someone would find them but excited that they had found each other, trying to be quiet but actually giggling almost hysterically when they heard someone walk by. Stefan had held his hand over Jan's mouth without thinking just as Jan had come. Both had done their best to be quiet but it had almost been too much for them.
Maybe it isn't love at the moment, but who knows what the future holds.
*
Sophia
Sophia walks backward through the kitchen door, tray in hand, and sees her guard sitting watching for her. She smiles. He is such a beautiful man, one who makes her heart flutter each time she sees him. She loves the way his uniform makes him look so strong, so manly, and she blushes as he calls her over.
“I can't stay long,” she says as she sits down quickly looking to the kitchen to make sure no one is watching.
He is blushing as well. These two are well suited.
“Um, I just wondered...” he begins and she looks at him attentively aware of the seriousness in his voice, the way he is trying to look at her but shyly keeps looking down at his hands. “We're both on day shift next week so I wondered if one evening you would like to...well you know, er, go out?”
He finally looks at her and she smiles.
“I would love that,” she says and wants to laugh at the surprise on his face, the utter delight that follows.
He is about to suggest something when someone calls Sophia from the kitchen and she jumps up.
“I finish at 7am. Come and see me. I just have to take their breakfast to them in the morning and then I'm free, we can talk then,” she says, referring to the Winter Soldier and The Constant.
“I'll still be on duty so I'll come with you,” he says. He knows that the girls from the kitchen do not like to go to the Winter Soldier's quarters by themselves. It is not that they have ever had any problems; they just do not know what to say to the woman when it is obvious she has been abused or is crying. They feel uncomfortable. They rarely even catch a glimpse of the Soldier himself.
Sophie walks backwards to the kitchen and knocks into a chair. She giggles, nods and then disappears back into the kitchen.
Time for him to check in with his counterpart before they start their rounds all over again but this time he feels as light as air.
She said yes. What could be more thrilling than that?
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A Bucky Barnes Winter Soldier Fic - The Constant