Love and War Aren't a Game

DISTRACTION

Our next mission had flung us near the Alps, which meant terrible conditions for snipers. Although it wasn’t currently snowing and the air was calm, which was all due to a stroke of luck, the snow Catherine and I were waiting in was going to be the death of us if Steve didn’t get a move on. We wore grey and white camouflage clothes instead of our usual army colours, and we were surprisingly able to lie side by side without killing each other for being in such close proximity.

I watched Catherine out of the corner of my eye as she checked through her scope again, only to find that Steve hadn’t moved in yet and that we were still required to wait. She let out a sigh and retreated her neck inwards, trying to huddle further into her jacket to keep warm.

“How did you learn to be such a good sniper?” I asked, my teeth almost chattering while I spoke. It was obvious that the cold was starting to get to Catherine, and it was beginning to deeply irritate me as well, so we needed a distraction. I could only hope that we could be mature enough to put our contest aside for a while and just talk. She glanced at me, eying me up for a moment before deciding that she could tolerate me.

“I grew up on a farm, so I hunted from a young age,” she replied. I raised my eyebrows, surprised by the answer and intrigued by her backstory. “How about you?” I paused out of shock that Catherine wanted to actually know something about me, then recovered and looked to the sniper rifle that I had become all too familiar with.

“It’s just a skill I picked up during the training camp. For some reason, I have a real talent for shooting people from afar,” I explained, grimacing shortly afterwards at how poorly the intended light joke had come out. “What kind of farm was it?” Catherine glanced at me with caution but quickly decided that I meant well and warranted me an answer.

“Dairy,” she stated simply. It was difficult to picture her there, milking cows and stomping through paddocks, but then again, it was impossible to picture her living and working in the city while wearing a skirt.

“What did you hunt?” I asked, eager to keep her talking even if she wasn’t as keen as I was. Anything was better than sitting here thinking about how damn cold I was.

“Anything that wasn’t a cow,” Catherine said with a smile. I grinned back at her, appreciating the lighter tone that had come in my direction for once. “What did you do before the war?”

“Nothing too important, other than saving Steve’s ass all the time,” I muttered, expecting the confused look Catherine shot me afterwards. “He didn’t look like that, all tall and muscular, before the war. It was a full time job pulling him out of fights.”

“And you’re still blindly saving the underdog,” she remarked before leaning in to take another look through her rifle’s scope and check if Steve had started causing a scene yet.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I questioned her with a frown. We had been doing so well at remaining civil and then she had to ruin it.

“What do you see in him? What’s made him worth fighting for?” Catherine replied. She appeared to be genuinely interested in knowing an answer, as though she hadn’t meant to cause offence, but I couldn’t be sure. All I had ever known her to do was rub me the wrong way, and plenty of those times were intentional.

“I wouldn’t be so judgemental if I were you. He sees a part of himself in you,” I said, not taking my eyes off her to gauge her reaction. Catherine remained still for a moment, not removing her trained gaze from the compound, but then she blinked a couple of times and glanced across at me while pinching her eyebrows together.

“I don’t believe you,” she stated. “I think he sees a good soldier in me and that’s why I’m here.”

“Oh, it’s definitely not that, you’re an awful shot, Cat,” I joked. The words fell from my mouth before I could think them through and I felt my stomach drop when she scoffed at me. No doubt I had already undone any progress we might have just made. Catherine made a quick movement and I brought my arm up to shield my face from the snow she had scuffed in my direction.

“You’re a real bastard, you know that, Bucky?” she replied. I grinned, guessing that we hadn’t taken a few steps backwards after all because she hadn’t spat out my surname.

I joined her and looked down my own scope, suddenly spotting Jacques running away from what must have been an area he had just planted a bomb in.

“Here we go… Just pretend they’re anything but cows and we should have this under control,” I muttered. Fortunately Catherine’s laughter met my ears instead of a snarl.

“Count the successful shots you make. We’ll see who’s the better sniper,” she challenged. I accepted and played the game, calling out each time I killed a Hydra soldier, but we soon both lost count and mutually declared the contest a tie when we fled the scene.
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I'll be honest, I stopped updating this because I felt like no one was interested in reading it. Prove me wrong? Let me know if you like this story?