howlingplayground | The Memening... Soulmate/Arranged Marriage Bucky Only

She hasn't been complacent since she was 5.

Was that a reaction just now? Does he not like the idea? She watches him intently. "Oh come on, you've got to have an opinion. They say blondes have more fun, but brunettes can be fun, too."

No, he doesn't want to have this conversation. He doesn't want her to change her hair. He wants to take her and keep her safe so that she isn't caught up in this bullshit with him.

He should never have gotten in the damned car.

"Brunette." He finally says, after leaning back on his hands and studying her. Brunette will allow her to blend in better. "Dark, almost black." Something distinctive, but not so much that she'll stand out in a crowd. He still doesn't like it.

Too late for that. She's part of the story, now, and she has no intention of letting him run off on her. If he did, she'd just track him down. They had to find answers to their questions, and the best way to do that is together.

She steps a little closer, innocently pulling a lock of hair forward to look at it. "Dark brown. Hmm. I suppose you're right. It's a shame, though. Been a long time since I dyed it anything." She watches him out of the corner of her eye, looking for any sign of a reaction.

She's being a brat. She's doing this on purpose. Too bad for her, he's not going to give her a reaction. "Better to hide, anyway." He says, watching her. He doesn't reach up and play with her hair, like he wants to. He doesn't even stiffen.

"Should get going. Only have a few hours." He needs sleep after all.

Eh, it was worth a try. She drops the act, her face going flat. Nodding, she pulls her hood up over her oh so distracting hair.

"Alright. You rest and do what you need to do. I'll be back soon." Without waiting for a response, she turns towards the door.

He nods and watches her go. Pulling his knife, he settles on the bed. He needs to sleep for a couple hours, and then he'll go raid the safehouse. Still, settling back, he can't help but remember Steve, what he'd looked like when he'd been pulled from the Potomac. He can't help but think of what she said to him to make him stay behind while she went off on this crazy adventure with him.

He'd punch the pillow, but it doesn't deserve that much punishment. Yawning, he finally settles in to rest.

Easy. She didn't tell him.

She takes a couple of hours to herself, grabbing a bite to eat and running errands. She either avoids or hides from any security camera she sees. She hasn't tried to dissappear this much in a while, it's good practice. She falls back into old habits as easily as slipping on an old worn t-shirt.

Food obtained, she found a shop that will suit her needs perfectly. Red hair no more. At least for now. Thus prepared, she returns to the hotel room.

Bucky doesn't sleep, but he does rest. When she returns, she's greeted with a thrown knife that quivers in the door near her head, and a silver hand closing around her throat.

Once he's more with it, he'll apologize.

He blinks, shaking the rest away. "Sorry," he says, removing his hand. "I - sorry." He whispers, shuddering.

The moment the knife embeds in the door, she grabs her gun. It's pressed against his stomach as he grabs her throat. Her other hand grips his wrist... for what little good that will do.

Her eyes are sharp, staring at his as she gives him the chance to come to his senses and let go. As soon as he does, she thumbs the safety on her gun and holsters it. She releases his wrist and reaches over her shoulder for the knife. Pulling it free, she flips it in her hand and holds it handle first to him. "Conditioning is a bitch. I think this is yours."

He really had not meant to do that. He didn't want to do that. He wanted to leave it all behind and never kill again, if he could help it. The Smithsonian had said he was a sniper in WWII, meaning he'd killed. But he liked to think he'd done it as a purpose a way of saving others' lives. But he didn't know.

He puts the knife away, flexing his metal hand. "Sorry." He whispers, again. He knows she understands some. He knows that she would, of anyone. But he still feels the need to say it.

"I should get going." He doesn't meet her eyes. He needs to get moving for the night and see what he can find.

She shrugs, not even acknowledging his apology. Walking past him into the room, she tosses her bag onto the only chair in the room and stretches her arms over her head. She could use some rest. And if he was going out on some mysterious errand, she was going to have to drive in the morning.

"Alright. I'm going to get some shut eye. Wake me when you get back and we'll get moving again."

Not exactly 'mysterious', just getting them some money and a few other things. He nods and then heads out into the night. He has a ways to go before he can even reach his target.

Bucky is very good at what he does. He hits the first safehouse, without anyone even knowing he's there. It garners him weapons, blank passports, and a sackful of cash. He hits the second, just to prove a point.

Trudging down the road, he looks like just another homeless guy walking the streets in the early dawn. Carrying a rucksack over one shoulder, he makes his way to a parking garage. Slipping past the dozing attendant is child's play. Picking out another car - a couple of years old, silver Chevy SUV - is simple. He heads back to the hotel and thanks his stars that Kentucky doesn't require front plates.

After switching the back plates on the SUVs, and making sure their previous vehicle is scrubbed of their presence as much as it can be, he knocks on the door - assuming that Natalia put the chain on. "Natalia? It's me." He's slipped back into Russian, quite comfortable now that they've got funds, weapons, and a new car.

All that fun and he didn't invite her.

Given she'd been sleeping, she had put the chain on... Though that wouldn't stop the people that would be hunting them soon, if they weren't already.

She's a light sleeper when she's on the run. Gun in hand (just in case) she peeks through the window before unchaining and unlocking the door. She opens it a crack before stepping away. The gun is loose in her hand down by her leg. Wearing just a t-shirt and panties, it's obvious she'd been sleeping. "Give me 10 and I'll be good to go. Unless, of course, we're in a rush."

She needed rest so she could drive. It makes no sense to stay in this place a couple of days. That just allows their pursuers to gain ground.

"No rush." He says, dropping the rucksack on the bed. "Weapons, ammunition, blank passports, and cash." He doesn't want anyone overhearing them, so he's sticking to Russian. "Both Canadian and American." Just in case. He could've grabbed the Euros, but didn't want them caught with that, just in case. There's another safehouse closer to the border where he can get them.

He sits on the edge of the bed, scrubbing a hand over his face. He wonders if he should shave and cut his hair. It'd make him more into Bucky Barnes, and less the Winter Soldier. He's not sure he's ready for that.

"Everything two runaways could need." She smirks at him, consistently responding in whatever language he uses. He's as well prepared as she'd expect a super soldier to be. Now they just needed answers.

Tossing her gun on the bed, she heads for the bathroom to take a shower before they leave. They might not be stopping at many other hotels and she'd prefer to start out as clean as possible. Leaving the door cracked, she turns the water on. As it warms up and she strips down, she speaks to him. "Do you need anything else? How's the car?"

"Couple years old, silver SUV." He says, leaning back on his arms, just listening to her. He's not looking, even though he could. "Already switched the plates." He's ready and able to get going. But he needs to make a stop and pick up some clothes. Then, they can stop at a truck stop somewhere, and he can grab his own shower.

"Need to stop and get some clothes." She'll understand. She's done this before. "Then, we can get on the road for a day or so." After that, they'll both need better sleep than the seats of an SUV can give them. "Food, then clothes." He decides. She'll need to eat, and he probably should too.

She steps into the shower as he fills her in. She knows he'll understand she's making the most of their time before they leave. As she washes her hair, she responds. "Food and clothes. Won't be hard to find either around here." She'd spotted a few thrift shops on the way. They'd be less likely to have cameras.

Thrift shops, a couple fast food restaurants, places where they can disappear. Nothing that should trip them up. Then again, he had raided two safehouses, so HYDRA would be looking for them.

But, hopefully they could get some distance before that happened. Honestly, he doesn't expect anyone to think anything. Not yet. He's sure there's more HYDRA agents on the run, now that SHIELD had been exposed. He's sure that they'll even know of some safehouses. But he'd had most of them shoved into his head. Advantageous in a situation like this. Besides, he hadn't killed anyone. So no bodies to be found.

So why does he have that feeling that says they should wait a couple cities before doing any of that? Why does he have the paranoia crawling up his spine and tightening the back of his skull?

Well, there are several answers to that and none of them are good. "Food once we're on the road. We'll find another city for a thrift store." He's not even sure why he's so worried, but he is, and right now, he's going to listen to it.

While he thinks about his response, Natasha makes quick work of washing her body. Truck stops are a viable place to stop, but she'd draw more attention there than she'd like. Better to not be noticed.

She turns off the water before responding. "Fine by me." If that's how he wants to play things, she's not going to argue. His senses are as attuned as hers, and he's had a lot more people playing with his head. If he wants to get out of town, they get out of town.

It takes her a few minutes to finish up in the bathroom. When she steps out, wearing a towel, her blonde hair is dry and straight. Moving to her suitcase, she grabs a clean pair of panties and pulls them on under the towel. "Want to clean up at all before we go?"

He doesn't stare. Gentlemen doesn't stare, and he's not sure where that thought came from. But he's just going to go with it for now.

He stands, and heads into the bathroom. A quick wash, mostly in the sink, since he doesn't have spare clothes, and he's back, his hair at least washed, and less greasy than it had been. He'll need a real shower later, but this will do for now.

He grabs the rucksack that he'd put on the bed. He'd stashed weapons around the vehicle already and some cash, but the bulk of it is in the bag. "Ready?" He asks, taking one more look around the room. Better to leave it antisceptic. He doesn't want people knowing they've been there.

She hadn't expected him to stare, or even look. Not only is he a gentleman, he's a professional. While he's cleaning up, she gets dressed and packed.

When he returns from the bathroom, she's tucking a gun into the holster at the small of her back. She shrugs on her jacket, grabs her bag and nods. "Yes." Without another word, she heads for the car. She tosses her bag in the trunk and gets behind the wheel while he finishes looking over the room.

The room is as sterile as they can make it. He doesn't like not having a clean-up team behind him, but this will have to do.

The silver SUV is sitting where he left it. He climbs into the passenger seat and buckles his seat belt. For a change, he doesn't have to sit in the footwell.

"Time to go." He'd already disengaged the automatic GPS on the vehicle. It would make their little trip a little harder, since no one believed in paper maps anymore, but worth the trouble.

He leans back, letting Natalia drive. He looks out the window, knowing they're not being followed, but thinking he missed something.

She rarely relied on GPS, anyway. Old habits.

Once he's in, she takes off. She waits until they're on the highway to turn on the radio. Glancing over at him, she smirks. "At least now it feels more like you're a passenger and less like you're cargo."

He snorts, his lips twitching. He settles back, and even lays back the seat, so he can't be seen outside the window. Just in case. "Cargo, huh?" He asks.

Then, the news comes on and he freezes. "Two houses on Lousiville's east side were broken into last night. The residents were unharmed, but they claim that although the houses were broken into, nothing was taken. Teenagers are suspected."

Bucky chuckles. He's sure they don't want anyone to know what was taken.

A laugh! Or at least close to it. Her smile widens a little. "Yeah. At least you're a better conversationalist than a suitcase."

The radio bulletin gets a raised eyebrow. No way it was a coincidence. "You're looking pretty rugged for a teenager."

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