My belly sounded like some leviathan that was choking on blood because it was forced to eat itself. Let me tell you, it doesn't sound very nice. I blamed Bucky for it since he kinda left the restaurant before we even had a chance to order something. At this point I was just wondering whether or not I should've left the topic of his metal arm alone.

When we finally got off the road and found us an empty, big house that hopefully had some Ben and Jerry's in its freezer, Bucky opened the door easily without speaking a word to me.

"You should check if there's any food left somewhere. I will make sure it's safe." Bucky mumbled while he grasped his gun from his belt and stepped through the hallway.

After Dropping my backpack and throwing my trenchcoat (which I only had to be able to cosplay as Castiel all the time) on the floor, I sighed deeply while looking at his retreating figure. I took my time to appreciate the muscles that were showing through his red shirt until I remembered that the same man was probably some criminal who had killed many people.

"Bucky." I called him and immediately saw his shoulders tense up. He probably knew that when I called him like that, I was pretty serious.

"You can't keep me here, with you." I continued and watched as he slowly turned towards me, his emerald eyes locking with mine. "Not without at least explaining why you're helping me, or who you are, what you've done."

He lowered his gun and sighed, looking everywhere but at me. "I only want what's best for you, that's all you need to know."

"Oh, really? 'Cause for all I know you could be some Northern god, maybe even Loki or something, or even better; the king of hell who just wants to fuck me up." I waved my hands through the air in frustration.

"Look," I sighed. "I know guilt when I see it. So I don't know what you've done or who made you protect me but I'm not letting you do that without at least knowing something besides that you have a metal arm." I pointed at his arm in the process and then frowned. "Which leads to the conclusion that you've probably served as some agent of a kind since normal people don't get that sort of prostheses when they lose their arm. Plus, that would also explain why you are able to kick so much ass."

Bucky huffed and grasped his gun again, turning his back towards me while walking towards the living room. "Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?"

"They did." I followed him with my arms crossed before my chest. "It's kinda part of my charm."

"It's infuriating."

"I think it's adorable." I pouted and caught his smile before it vanished from his face. "Anyhow, it's better than your silence." Smiling, I followed him through the house while he checked if there was anyone else. "But you're avoiding the subject, James."

I saw his hand shooting up to his shoulder after he had lifted his gun, pressing against it like it was hurting. "I won't let you." I walked up to him and tried to read his face. All I could see was pain, if it was physical or mental pain I couldn't see yet but it was there. He remained silent though, even after he had dropped his gun with a heavy sigh.

"Does it still hurt?" I asked while I reached for his arm, feeling the cold metal even through his shirt. I traced the patterns up to his shoulder at which he flinched slightly, backing away from my fingers like I had just touched an open wound. "If it does, you know I can help. I'm some kind of a doctor."

I looked up at him, suddenly realizing how close we actually were. It immediately made me nervous, I felt my cheeks burning up and my body shivering under his gaze. "Not an official one, of course, for that I'd have to complete another study but you know... My parents were kinda Einstein when it comes to medicines and that kind of things and I sort of umm... learned from them? And by learning I mean being lectured day and night about T-cells, lymphocytes-"

"Grace." Bucky sighed and leaned against the cabinet behind him after putting the gun on the table on his left.

"Yeah?" I kinda hopped on my two feet while watching him expectantly. We were currently back in the living room which looked kind of cozy by the way, it had an huge couch which looked like a marshmallow and a huge flat screen.

"You're talking too much again."

"Yeah, that tends to happen when I'm nervous." I chuckled awkwardly while taking a few steps back. "Never mind that though." I took in a deep breath while looking at the way how Bucky softly caressed his shoulder and knew something was seriously wrong. He had been doing that for two days now. "Take off your shirt and let me take a look."

He lifted his eyebrow like I had just offended him. "What?" He mumbled.

"You're obviously in pain, James, and I-

"My name is Bucky."

"can't keep watching how you hurt yourself just because you're trying to keep me from knowing that  you've got a metal arm, in which you've failed miserably by the way." I took in a deep breath after that long sentence. "Plus, I'm kinda curious."

"I'm not some kind of experiment."

"I'm not saying that."

"Then why would you-"

"James." My voice had dropped to a dangerous growl while my eyes narrowed at him. "I swear to Chuck, I will kill you with a syringe."

He stood there dumbfounded while I glared him to death. He was probably wondering how I could possibly find the courage to say something like that to him after witnessing how he could kill 6 professional agents in 1 minute. To be honest, I didn't know myself.

"With a syringe?"

"Uhu." I crossed my arm and lifted one eyebrow. "You think I couldn't do it?"

"I don't doubt that." Bucky sighed deeply, probably wondering why he didn't leave me to die back in London. He turned his back towards me, his hands grasping the hem of his shirt to pull it over his head.

"I'm just going to get my stuff." I turned around and got my backpack from the hallway, rumassing through my stuff till I found my first aid kit. Because there were two huge organization on my tail I always brought it with me, knowing that they could attack any moment and that I might get injured badly. Plus, this way I could actually threaten Bucky by always keeping the syringes with me.

"Alcohol, some needles, thread..." I searched through the box while walking back to the living room. "Where the hell are my syringes?" I mumbled and then looked up. Which I regretted immediately, by the way. I couldn't stop my mouth from hanging open at the sight of Bucky, there, on the couch, shirtless.

He shifted awkwardly under my gaze, his eyes flickering towards my hand which held numerous surgeon knifes and needles.

"Mother of Chuck." I muttered while looking at him, walking towards him slowly. "How in heaven-" I sat down beside him, my hands reaching for his chest. "Holy shit."

"Grace." Bucky scratched his head.

"This is amazing! Look at it, completely attached to your nerve-system! And the craftsmanship..." My hand reached for his arm while Bucky sighed in relief. "How long have you had this?"

"Pretty long."

"How long?"

"Almost 75 years, I guess."

"Haha, funny." I chuckled while examining the area on his shoulder in particular. The place where the metal was replaced by his own flesh was where he was probably experiencing pain since there were some sharp endings of the metal. It had probably been damaged during one of the fights in the past few days. The wound was red and swollen, obviously infected by repeatedly being opened.

"Can you treat it?" I could feel his eyes on me but this time I didn't mind it, not even when I could feel the warmth radiating from his body.

"Well, I can, but it might only be temporarily. You see, the metal of your prostheses is affecting your skin right here." I followed the outlines of the metal with my fingers and saw the goosebumps rising on his skin. "Since you probably don't want your arm removed all I could do is stop the infection for now by cleaning the wound. Or I could order you to stop moving your arm."

"That won't work." Bucky chuckled sadly, finally relaxing under my touch. He leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes.

"Cleaning it is, then." I wettened a cloth with some alcohol. "This is going to hurt though." Searching for a way to ease his pain, my eyes landed on his hand. I took it, immediately seeing Bucky's eyes flicker to mine, and placed it on my thigh. "Just squeeze when it hurts and I might go easy on you."

"I don't need-" Bucky hadn't finished his sentence when he sucked in a deep breath through his gritted teeth.

"You were saying?" I looked up at him with a smile playing on my lips but soon enough concentrated on his wounds again. If there was something that could distract me from deviously handsome men it was helping people, especially when they were wounded and sitting half naked on the couch.

Silence hung over us as I continued to care for his wounds. Bucky seemed to have composed himself after some time, only sucking in a few deep breaths every now and then.

"James." I looked up at him after a while when I had finished the cleaning. Now I only needed to bandage his shoulder and make sure the metal wouldn't hurt him again.

"Yes, Grace?" He rolled his eyes.

"If you don't want to tell me, I understand. You've got your secrets and so do I." I sighed and ceased bandaging so I could concentrate on him fully. "Look, I don't need to be a genius to know that you've gone through a lot of misery and pain. I cannot imagine what horrors must've happened for you to decide to help me. I mean, you seriously picked the worst possible woman to look after."

Bucky chuckled lightly, his hand squeezing my thigh gently.

"But if there's anything, anything at all that you would like to tell me, I'm all ears." I rested the palm of my hand against his cheek.

"What makes you think something must've happened?"

"Well, besides the metal arm and the serious lack of verbal communication I... I heard you last night." I tried to swallow the lump that was growing in my throat. "I... I didn't know what to do, to wake you or leave you be. You were screaming and thrashing and I-"

"Grace, it's okay." Bucky hushed me when he noticed how distressed I actually was about it.

"No it's not, Buck!" I bit on my lip after that, looking down at my hands that were covered with some of his blood. "I made it my life's purpose to help other people because that's the only thing I'm good for. But here you are and I have no idea how to help you. Don't you know how infuriating that is? And then there are these moments that I'm seriously scared of you but then the other moment you're like this adorable little puppy and I-"

"You're scared of me?" Bucky frowned and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear.

"Well, that's not a very weird response considering everything that has happened in the past week." I looked up at him while a few tears slit down my cheek. "So yeah, I was scared of you but not anymore."

"You should be." Bucky frowned and bit on his lip, diverting his eyes away from mine.

"I don't believe that."

Bucky's eyes slightly widened, taking in my expression like it was the first time someone actually wasn't afraid of him in any way. He then frowned, his eyes glancing down at my lips for a split second. Which made me enormously nervous in like a billionth of a second, by the way, so you can probably guess what I did next.

"Well..." I let out a deep breath and turned away, grasping the bandage again and concentrating on his shoulder. "Maybe I'm just a fool who still believes in fairy tales."

The silence that came next stretched on for a long time. Bucky only looked at me while I was bandaging his arm, every so often leaning closer so I could get the bandage around his body.

"I don't remember much." Bucky suddenly spoke up, his voice hoarse. "Especially not from long ago." He glanced down at his lap. "I was part of an organization that made me into something I'm not. Made me do things, unforgivable things I may never forgive myself for."

I put down everything that was in my hands and sat back next to him, my eyes scanning his face while he tried to compose his breath. He did just tell me that he was basically a murderer but something in his eyes made me know that it wasn't his fault.

"During one of the last missions I was ordered to assassinate someone." His emerald eyes locked with mine. "I decided against it, something I did once before. So I ran. Now they're after me too."

"Who was it?" My eyes were filled with sympathy while the palm of my hand caressed his cheek.

"The last time, I'm not sure, I can't really remember him." He seemed to try and swallow the lump in his throat. He locked his eyes with mine again. "The first one though, was you."

I gasped and withdrew my hand from his face, looking at him with shock clear in my eyes. There was only one organization which would kill people and was after me. HYDRA. "You... You were a part of HYDRA?" I whispered.

"I told them you were dead, which is why they weren't after you for a long time. Which is why you managed to live in London that long." Bucky sighed, his brown locks falling before his eyes. "I knew I failed you when I discovered that they were after you again. I needed to make sure you were safe."

"You saved my life and I didn't even have the slightest idea of who you were."

He nodded slowly. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to make up for the things I've done." He looked down again and bit on his lip. "I don't even know if I'm worth all this."

I couldn't hold myself back anymore. Hell, I wish that I could but this was just too much. First he saved my life in a mission he should've completed and later on he saved me from HYDRA's grasp in London. He betrayed his own to save me. It was the first time I actually felt like I was worth something, the first time I felt like I meant something to someone. It didn't matter to me that he was a part of HYDRA, I didn't care that he killed people. So my hand held his cheek again and pulled him closer, planting my lips down on his firmly while my other hand waved itself through his long brown locks. At first he felt frozen under my touch but slowly he recomposed himself.

His hand that was resting on my thigh slowly found its way up and placed itself on my waist, softly drawing circles on my skin through my shirt. His other hand rested on the side of my cheek, holding my head so that I couldn't pull away. He kissed me like it was the first time he was ever loved, his lips desperately kissing mine like I could turn into dust any second. I could feel his heartbeat racing under the tips of my finger, the warmth radiating from his body as his hand pulled me even closer.

When I felt like I was suffocating in his warmth I pulled away but not too far, my green eyes locking with his as we both tried to catch our breath again.

"You are to me."