[ her first thought, sober and awake, once her bare feet come into contact with his apartment's flooring is that it's fucking cold. it makes her shuffle to his bathroom all the more quickly.
if she were just your typical ole jane, she would use the bathroom to freshen up but when she arrived last night, she had literally nothing on her person but the clothes on her back and the ka-bar in her boot. the truth of the matter here is: nothing about her is normal and nothing about the situation they're in is normal either. which, strangely, she finds comfort in.
yelena belova lives in the now anyway and doesn't care enough to overthink things. so, like she often does in the presence of one bucky barnes, she makes herself at home and uses the bottle of mouthwash in the cabinet under his sink to freshen up. (she knows where it is, and where most things are. she is nosy and has too good of a memory, this one.)
there is the sound of running water streaming against the surface of white ivory, a flush that makes the pipes in the walls rattle and then a door being opened. it's followed by a graceful, yet rushed set of footsteps back to his bed where she finds his artificial arm covering his face, and the other one made out of flesh and blood is sprawled across her side of the bed.
she still finds a bit chilly and well, he's on top of the blankets so she doesn't hesitate even for a second to climb back into bed. she settles into a position where she is also on her back, and where her head is using his arm as a pillow. while his eyes are hidden, hers are glued to the ceiling. she's okay with the sun beating on her like this, makes her feel nice and warm. but maybe that's due to being so close to bucky, too. ]
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if she were just your typical ole jane, she would use the bathroom to freshen up but when she arrived last night, she had literally nothing on her person but the clothes on her back and the ka-bar in her boot. the truth of the matter here is: nothing about her is normal and nothing about the situation they're in is normal either. which, strangely, she finds comfort in.
yelena belova lives in the now anyway and doesn't care enough to overthink things. so, like she often does in the presence of one bucky barnes, she makes herself at home and uses the bottle of mouthwash in the cabinet under his sink to freshen up. (she knows where it is, and where most things are. she is nosy and has too good of a memory, this one.)
there is the sound of running water streaming against the surface of white ivory, a flush that makes the pipes in the walls rattle and then a door being opened. it's followed by a graceful, yet rushed set of footsteps back to his bed where she finds his artificial arm covering his face, and the other one made out of flesh and blood is sprawled across her side of the bed.
she still finds a bit chilly and well, he's on top of the blankets so she doesn't hesitate even for a second to climb back into bed. she settles into a position where she is also on her back, and where her head is using his arm as a pillow. while his eyes are hidden, hers are glued to the ceiling. she's okay with the sun beating on her like this, makes her feel nice and warm. but maybe that's due to being so close to bucky, too. ]
This is not weird, right?