verb.
To fall back under pressure. To shrink back physically or emotionally.
noun.
The kickback of a gun upon firing.
•
It takes a stubborn mind to cling to their humanity when the world seeks to strip it away.
It takes a desperate soul to reach f...
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A tired groan escaped Kat as she shouldered her way through the front door of her apartment, tossing her motorcycle helmet onto the empty sofa after hanging up her jacket and kicking off her boots in her usual haphazard fashion. Her fingers rose to her temples, massaging gently as she closed her eyes and tried to stave off the headache that had been thrumming there all afternoon, letting herself sink into the silence and peace of her home.
Silence.
No clatter of dinner being prepared, no gentle greeting. Silence.
She knew exactly what he was playing at.
"Yajtza Bucky, not today..." She grumbled out her protest as she opened her eyes, glancing around the empty space even as her stance shifted slightly to plant herself more firmly on the ground, "I'm tired."
A tell-tale whirr was the only warning she was given, but it was enough. Her hands flew to block the metal forearm that swept around her neck in an attempt to put her in a headlock. "Mmm, yes if I remember correctly, HYDRA agents are notorious for going easy on you when you say you're tired."
"Oh, fuck off." She grunted in response to the sarcastic murmur in her ear, dropping one arm and driving her elbow back into his ribs with just enough force to make him buckle slightly.
"Stop holding back."
"You're doing it too." She bit out the accusation, knowing he had over-exaggerated his response to the light blow, giving her the opportunity to slip out from under his arm. Huffing out a breath she backed away a few paces as she turned to look at him.
"Where's your knife?" He questioned, rolling his left shoulder as he looked her up and down.
"Jacket pocket." She muttered reluctantly, nodding to where the garment was handing by the door and flexing her fingers as she prepared for his chastisement.
"Then you're dead already."
"Great – can I sit down now?"
His answer came in the form of a swift right-hook that she ducked to avoid, ramming her shoulder into his chest in the same motion and grunting at the jolt of her bone meeting the solid muscle of his torso.
"I could have stabbed you in the back by now."
"Do it. End my torture." Kat whined as his hand fisted in the back of her shirt and dragged her upright again.
"Again, come on." He urged her; those damn determined blue eyes locking with hers and reminding her why this ridiculous dance had become part of their lives. He was scared she would really need to defend herself against him someday. This all came from some stubborn place of concern that he couldn't put into words but could express easily enough by throwing her around the room.
"Fine." She breathed out, rubbing her hand over the back of her neck as she nodded; "But you're cooking tonight."
