bakerstreet | Body Heat

It's probably because the moose doesn't need to take a shit yet.

[ When have bad guys ever been known to be on time or work to a logical schedule? Most of the tasks HYDRA had assigned him took place during the night. If Bucky was to think like a bad guy, he'd suspect Jones to be out here for a little while longer.

Resting his elbow against the side of the door, he leaned his head against his palm and ignored his jacket. ]

Fury probably asked you to do this because he knows you don't just barge into places like the Hulk and smash while forgetting to ask questions. Can't stop this shit from respawning if everyone's bits are on the floor.

[ You can't exactly stop a cycle with Hulk Smash. ]

If your lord and overseer of cocks and jackasses knew that he'd be sending me out in a goddamn snowstorm to freeze what little tits I have off just to watch? He's going to regret making that egregiously bad life choice.

[She very much wanted to go into the warehouse, if only because punching someone would warm her up. Punching multiple people would get her nice and toasty, and then she could take pictures of the carnage and go back to curling up in her shitty apartment to drink herself into a nap. Best life choice, really.]

Put your goddamn jacket on and stop trying to outmacho me. You have a bigger dick, I promise.

[ Whatever issues Jones has with Fury, Bucky didn't want to get in the middle of them. He liked it best when he stuck to the sidelines and preferred it most when he wasn't even on the same court as everyone.

But he was here, trying to be a team player. And sometimes being a team player meant almost freezing to death. ]

Not trying to out-macho you. [ He leaned forward and slid his jacket back on before returning to his position leaning against the window. ] Would you believe I'm just trying to be nice?

I don't know.

[It was as honest an answer as she could give. 'Nice' wasn't something she was used to, especially from people seemingly forced to be around her. Nice from anyone towards her was suspect. It meant they wanted something. The only thing Jess currently had of value on her was her alcohol, but as far as she knew, super tin man over there couldn't get drunk, so it wasn't like he needed it.

Speaking of, she took another sip before another shudder racked over her.]

I'm still trying to figure you out.

Yeah?

[ He followed that with a tiny "hm". That wasn't exactly surprising. With his history, he was used to a lot of people trying to figure him out. He wasn't quite sure how far they'd gotten; smart people tended to give up when it became all too complicated with the mind control and not-quite-Captain-America-serum. ]

Maybe I can help with that. [ You know, since he's super nice. ] I don't want to step on your P.I. toes in doing things yourself.

[ But he's here, not quite an open book, sitting in his blue Henley trying to ignore the cold. ]

Don't think I don't get you, Barnes.

[She might not as much as the people he was close to, but she also got the whole prickly guard thing. She'd had that going for a long time. So long now that she thought she wasn't always sure she could shrug it off.]

One thing I do know is I bet you're tired of people telling you what you are.

[She was, too. Tired of therapists that made all her nightmares out to be euphemisms or allegories. Like the impossible things she knew to be real weren't. Like she was the crazy one who couldn't fit into a world she didn't always feel a part of anymore. And she was certainly tired of people that read her file thinking they knew her. Especially if they hit valid points. It just pissed her off.]

[ Bucky didn't respond immediately. It was true. He hated people telling him what they thought he was. From those who believed he was still a HYDRA puppet, or that it had been his choice all along, to those who thought of him as some good person. He was somewhere in the middle, murky and unidentified. Bucky still didn't know who he was while everyone else was making educated guesses on who they thought he should be. ]

Kind of a given.

[ If they were to speak of what was as obvious as water was wet. Anyone who paid enough attention would at least know that. And considering not many people did pay attention to him, well. ]

I like the colour blue.

[ That was one thing not many people knew. See? He's a semi-open locked book. ]

[Jessica kind of broke locks. All the time. Sometimes not even on purpose. That little tidbit was filed away and she turned a bit in the seat, looking over at him, eyes flicking down to the shirt, then back up to his face.]

Is that because it matches those pretty eyes?

[What? She could admit he had pretty eyes. The man had eyes and could see what he looked like. Duh.]

Oh, yeah.

[ By the way he scrunched up his face and answered sarcastically, it was most definitely not because of that reason. It did help, but it wasn't like he could wear much blue back in the '40s. ]

My sister liked it for that reason, so I liked it.

[ He shrugged. It was that simple, even if Bucky kept Rebecca close to his chest. Being his last living family member might play into that a little. ]

See? Now you know me. Figured me all out.

[She'd almost forgotten he'd had a family. Siblings. Ones who'd lived their life without him. It made her quiet for a moment, thinking about her own situation. Her mom. Trish. A sigh as she sipped at her bottle again, then gave him a crooked smile.]

Figuring shit out is kind of my job. Your sister had good taste.

[Blue did look good on him. Wasn't just his eyes, though they helped. It was his coloring in general. Dark hair. Skin not milk-paste pale like some people. She sipped again.]

Besides, Bucky. You're a guy. You're not that complex.

[That? That was a dig. A tease. A challenging gauntlet thrown down because if she was going to have to sit in a car and freeze her ass off, she'd do it fighting.]

[ He smiled close-lipped and looked out the window, very unoffended by her teasing. ]

I'm aware I'm very one-dimensional by nature. Why else do you think I told you my favourite colour? There's nothing else to know.

[ He wished that he was that simple. Being a one-note kind of guy would be a hell of a lot easier to juggle than being someone who had an alternate identity that he was never fully in control of and being a man out of time. Downplaying the complexities of his own story was a lot easier than Bucky ever thought it would be. ]

What about you? Black seems like it's too obvious of a favourite colour choice for you.

What's wrong with black?

[Back in her younger years, she'd tried to do something a little more punk than goth, had attempted to die her hair, or part of it, some bright, vivid, rebellious color. It had not stuck. Bleaching a strip had been a nightmare and she'd had Trish's hairdresser tell her that 'That deep of a black won't die. Women would kill for that color'. Bully for other women. She'd wanted a little more outward defiance and again, her body had betrayed her.

So black it was.]

Black is uncomplicated and forgiving. And doesn't show coffee or blood stains. You know how many pairs of jeans I ruin because of that?

[She pointed down to her light blue pants, faded white in some spots where it had destressed enough to tear.]

[ He pursed his lips and nodded. Glancing out the window and finding nothing out of the sorts, Bucky looked back at her. The black made sense given it was also somewhat discrete and it matched most things.

But he couldn't help himself. He teased, ] It's kind of boring, don't you think?

[ Considering how easy she was to rile up even when he wasn't trying to do anything, he figured now was a great opportunity to take advantage of that. ]

Very safe.

Are you calling me 'safe', Barnes?

[Wow. Wow. The nerve of this guy. The look she gave him raked him from the top of his head down to his boots, and then back up to fume quietly as she stared in annoyingly bright blue eyes.]

Are you bored? Because it sounds to me like someone's asking someone else to punch them in the face. I mean, I could be wrong. Something could be lost in translation between old man jibber jabber and logic.

[ He chuckled and shook his head in amusement. She was so easy to rile up. First his presence, now his commentary on the colour black. He continued to rest his head in the palm of his hand, relaxed despite the seeping cold. Even his Vibranium arm was starting to feel a little icy. ]

You're getting really defensive about my opinion of your fashion sense, Jones.

[ And to answer her question: yes, he was bored. ]

Says the guy getting overly interested in my shitty fashion sense. Don't tell me you want me in a dress or something frilly.

[She'd punch him. She swears to god, if he said yes, he was getting punched. After she finished blowing on cold fingers.]

[ Bucky wrinkled his nose in distaste. Jessica Jones in a dress would be a sight to behold, but he had a feeling that the dress would end up getting punched before it was ever worn. Her being a dress-wearing type was like him wearing a tux. Never going to happen. ]

I'm 'overly interested' because I'm teasing you? You think really highly of yourself there, Jones.

[ He clucked his tongue in amusement. ]

I'm just trying to make conversation to distract you from your freezing tits.

[ Call him a gentleman. ]

Yeah? Well, there's better ways to distract me about my tits.

[... That just slipped out. Not that she was going to admit she hadn't planned that. She was a say her mind kind of girl anyway, so he hopefully wouldn't notice her flailing mentally over that. Jesus.

Okay, so maybe it had been awhile for her. That was no reason to be not-flirting with him in a truck she might very well freeze something off in.]

[ Bucky didn't bother to try and suppress his chuckle. He smiled at her before he cocked his brow. ]

There are?

[ It was fun playing dumb sometimes. Maybe he should let up on the teasing, but sometimes she made it way too good to pass up. This was one of those instances. Besides, it was hard to ever get the jump on Jessica Jones.

Bucky figured she'd definitely condone him enjoying this for a little bit. ]

Pray tell, what are the better ways than asking you questions about yourself, Miss Jones?

You ever known talk to warm you up, Sgt Barnes. You get all roasty toasty just flapping your gums?

[Well, if she was going to get called out for it, she was going to own it and roll with it. And maybe wipe that smug smile off his face. What a little shit.

He knew exactly what he was doing. She could tell from that look. Too bad for him that Jess didn't exactly do shy or embarrassed much.]

[ Although he wanted to tell her he hadn't been Sergeant Barnes in a long, long time, he smiled instead. It was better to keep things in the present looking forward. ] Yeah, actually. Talking used to actually mean something back in the '40s.

[ And now, well… Dating wasn't like it used to be, not that Bucky's gone out of his way to try and date. Sam's definitely tried, but Bucky's always resisted. Being an old geezer with a metal arm and a bloody past had done a number on what used to be unwavering confidence. ]

So was giving someone your jacket. [ He clucked his tongue. ] Things have changed a lot over eight decades.

People talked too much. Ever read Shakespeare? So much verboseness just to tell someone to fuck off. Or 'no'. Can't just say that. Nope. Have to go on a wailing monologue about bloody hands or witches.

[Dating was difficult. She barely trusted the people she knew, and she certainly didn't trust her clients. When it came to seeing to her needs, she'd leaned more towards going out drinking and seeing what she could find that might make it worth it. She had, of course, gone home more disappointed than not. Usually feeling worse about herself than she had before she'd gone out. But that was her normal. Even Trish had known her well enough not to suggest a dating site.

The jacket comment had her looking at him pretending not to notice it there, and she rolled her eyes.]

Yeah. We get to talk in public now and wear pants and say no. We get listened to about as often as we did back in your day, but at least now they pretend to go through the motions of actually thinking of us as people and not just baby machines with kitchen appliance knowledge.

[See that? That was sass.]

Bucky remained quiet, listening to her with great amusement. There was no point in arguing with her; he had no disagreements, especially having grown up in the time and being thrown into what felt like a new world eight decades later. There were some similarities; he highly doubted Jones cared to hear that list.

But he could see how she liked to skew the point. People talked a lot more back before his life went to shit. They went out, didn't hide behind their phones, and no one knew how to swipe left or right when all one needed was a little liquid courage and goading by his friends to go approach a girl for a dance.

"You don't make anything easy, do you?"

"Pretty sure that when it comes to the 'fairer sex', you have it easy enough." She was way off the mark, but she didn't know it. Couldn't, really. She just had his looks to go off of, and bucky was not an unattractive man. He had to know that, right? He could walk into any bar and just stroll up and stand behind a girl and have her lean back into him and get all gooey.

Hell, if she'd met him in a bar and he'd given her a look, she'dve dragged him into a bathroom within five minutes, so clearly that implied anyone else would. Right? Right.

He cocks his brow as he regards her with amusement. While he knows Jones is a private investigator who sticks her nose in a lot of different places, he should've known she came with making a hell of a lot of assumptions.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

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