Forgotten first meeting + locked in a room: Ichigo/Bucky Barnes. I will DIE if ichigo is the one who forgot instead of mr. Mindwipe

– loveasunnyday

(Now with ven art of Ichigo~)

(So basically MCU-ish except that Steve didn’t lie about Tony’s parents, the Avengers are Found Family, and Bucky got brought in with a minimum of fuss. Civil War never happened here because people used their Words, Tony and Steve were a terrifying double-act to beat the Accords into a usable form, and now there are multiple superhero groups across the world under the umbrella of the Accords.)

James slinks down the hallway, searching for a place to hide out for a while. He’s not very social anymore on the best of days, so being dragged to a ‘superhero meet and greet’ party was… not his favorite. If Steve hadn’t looked at him with those damn sad eyes of his–

He huffs a sigh and shakes his head. He understands the reasoning, he does, but it doesn’t make it any less painful or overwhelming to be around so many unknown and dangerous people.

Sure, they’re all supposed to be superheroes, vetted and approved by the Council, but… that doesn’t keep his damn paranoia from acting up.

(He’s getting better, he knows he is, but sometimes it feels like he’s not, that he’ll never be better, and…)

(Damnit, he needs to call his therapist before he spirals again.)

James spies a door that’s ajar and hurries forward, slipping into the room and closing it behind him with a decisive click. Which… sounded more decisive than it should have.

He scowls down at the handle and tries it. Finds the whole thing locked. Snorts at the sheer absurdity of his life because really? Really? A self-locking door in a mansion? It won’t be more than a few seconds to pick open but really?!

“Come to hide out too?”

James whirls back around and narrows his eyes at the sight of a familiar man lounging on a small couch, a thick, dusty-looking book in his hands. The man’s distinctive orange hair is pulled back in a long ponytail and he’s staring at James with faint amusement but absolutely no recognition.

Which… alright. It has been a couple years since Ichigo Kurosaki dragged James’ disassociating ass four blocks to a hotel room and stayed with him until he was feeling better. Not everyone has such distinctive features – his metal arm is currently covered by a sleeve, after all – but it’s still… disappointing, somehow. He’d never expected to see the man again – they weren’t even friends – so he had no reason to be disappointed by anything!

Just another damn side-effect of his fucking messed up brain.

“I’ve met you before, haven’t I,” Ichigo says wryly, sticking a bookmark in his book and closing it to set aside, placing his reading glasses atop it as well. “You did that thing people do when I’m supposed to know them and don’t.”

“Doesn’t matter. Never expected you to.” He gives a one-shouldered shrug and looks away, keeping Ichigo in the corner of his eye as he scans the room. It’s a small library of some sort, bookshelves filled floor to ceiling with old, expensive looking books.

(How in the world did Ichigo feel so comfortable handling one of those books?)

(This wasn’t his home… was it?)

“Yeah, not buying it. I mean something to you.” Ichigo purses his lips and gives James a once-over, but there’s still no recognition in his eyes. “Where’d we meet?”

“Little town in Romania. I was, uh… havin’ a moment.”

Ichigo snorts, tension relaxing from his frame as he slouches against the side of the couch and props his chin on his hand. “That’s what they’re calling it these days, huh? Seemed like more than a moment to me, if I remember it right.” He eyes James, gaze lingering on his trimmed and tidy hair, his dress clothes, and his stance, before landing on his metal hand which is relaxed at his side instead of curled into a fist. “You look… better.”

And just like that, it clicks. “You’re face-blind,” James blurts before he can stop himself, then winces and says, “Sorry, just… sorry. Came across the term while trying to figure out… me. Shouldn’t just assume–”

“You’re not wrong,” Ichigo says, cutting him off. “Makes these sort of events… annoying. Everyone’s wearing something completely different, all the individualistic clues I look for are usually hidden, and everyone expects me to know people still. S’why Tatsuki’s the one who deals with people the most and doesn’t mind if I hide out once the night’s started.”

“I get overwhelmed,” James offers. “Too many people all talkin’ at once, in too small an area.”

“Dangerous people,” Ichigo adds with a small quirk of his lips. He gestures towards the other side of the couch and says, “Take a seat. Join me in hiding from the world.”

The offer is tempting, especially since he’ll have to pick the lock in order to leave, and then he’ll have to find another room to hide in.

(Besides, Ichigo’s already seen him breaking at the seams.)

(This time maybe he can even enjoy the company.)

James sits without a word, then blinks at the bare feet that immediately appear in his lap as Ichigo stretches out like some sort of giant, lanky cat. He observes Ichigo as the man settles his glasses on his face and picks up the book once again, as if he hadn’t just sprawled out across an almost-stranger’s lap.

It’s strange, but it’s also… reassuring.

(Not many people are so casual with him anymore.)

He tentatively rests his real hand on Ichigo’s ankles, thumb brushing across warm skin. It feels nice to touch like this, skin-to-skin contact without any sort of expectation, mostly under his own control; Ichigo isn’t trapping him or forcing him to accept anything – James could move the man’s feet off his lap as easily as breathing – and Ichigo certainly isn’t expecting anything out of him.

Ichigo’s gaze flicks up to meet his, thoughtful-considering-kind, and then he looks down again, perfectly at ease.

James breathes out. Relaxes. Lets his mind drift.

Wonders if Ichigo’s group is often invited to these ridiculous shindigs and – if so – how easy it will be to hunt the man down each time.

(He could get used to this.)

(That’s a scary thought.)

(But maybe one he could learn to accept.)

(He likes that idea.)