Chapter Text
You cursed as you dropped one of the bullets you were loading into one of Bucky’s magazines. You borrowed his guns often enough . . . not that you ever let him know that. You were careful. He might have loved you, but his obsession with his precious babies rivaled your own secret obsessions at times and you didn’t feel like today was a good day to die. Yeah. It didn’t work for you.
Maybe next week.
It did mean, though, that you needed to finish loading this before Bucky got back from the gym.
You chased after the wayward bullet and bent to pick it up. You weren’t exactly paying attention and you slammed your head against the wall as you bent. You groaned, rubbing at your head, but you also stared suspiciously at the unassuming wall in front of you. A hollow sound had echoed when you hit it and you were 90% sure your head hadn’t made the sound.
You narrowed your eyes in suspicion and tossed the magazine on the bed. Something was afoot. Call you Sherlock Holmes, but you were going to figure it out.
You turned your full attention to the wall and ran your fingers over it. They brushed against a part of the wall that didn’t feel the same and you pressed on it gently. With a whoosh, a secret door opened, revealing a secret room that looked an awful lot like your own.
You took a few hesitant steps inside, your hands held out in front of you, ready to catch any flying bullet shaped projectiles that might be aimed at you, but the second your feet crossed the threshold, lights flicked on automatically above you.
Your eyes widened in disbelief as you spun around the small space. Everywhere you looked, your face stared back at you. Pictures from your first date, pictures from the tower . . . there were even pictures that looked like a sniper had taken them from across the street. You knew in your heart it had been Bucky and a sniffling laugh escaped you. Bless the heart of your socially inept lover. He tried.
What really made your breath catch in your throat were the little trinkets here and there. The ticket stubs from the first movie you’d taken him to. The compass you’d stolen from Steve and in which you’d put a picture of yourself. The vase of fake flowers you’d given to him the day after he’d told you he’d never gotten flowers himself.
The whole room was a shrine to the thing the two of you had built together and you loved everything about it.
You shook your head quickly and snuck out of the room, careful not to disturb anything as you went. You left the magazine on the bed, totally forgotten as you stalked through the halls of the tower. You were a woman on a mission and your target was sure.
You needed to find your man.
He was totally getting laid.