#bucky friendship

[getinthefuckingjaeger]

Just as Bucky's favourite thing to do is to pull a smile and laugh from Gale, Gale's most favourite thing to do - he'll even say it rivals flying because it feels so similar - is to make Bucky blush.

Loud, bright, brazen Bucky Egan getting all flushed and bashful, eyes lowered to the ground or to his hands if he's fiddling with something - anything - to avoid Gale's eyes. It feels extra good if Gale can spot the tiniest lipbite before the smallest, sweetest smile finds its way on Bucky's face. Oh, his boy will try to hide his face, but Gale will always catch that smile.

And when Bucky looks up from under his lashes, big doe eyes sparkling in amusement at Gale? Nothing. Nothing beats that fluttering feeling in Gale's chest. Feels like the first time he learns to jump from a fast moving swing. Addictive, exhilarating, rewarding.

Other people can have a little of Bucky's brightness, but the blushes and secret smiles are all Gale's.

[ironspidersblog]

Marvel robbed us of Tony and Bucky getting to know each other and heal together

[imawreck]

Project G.H.O.S.T. Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x Original Character

Summary: Bucky finds out he isn't the only Super Soldier left... that Hydra had created something worse. Based loosely on some phases of the mcu.

Warnings: This story contains a lot of dark subjects, gore, betrayal, and drama. So, readers be warned! Every chapter will have brief warnings, so be sure to read those if you're sensitive to certain subjects. Read at your own risk!

Author's Note: You have started a dark path, my friend, and you may hate me by the end of it but you're too far in to give up now >:)

Unknown

Cargo

Holding Cell

Interrogation

Experiments

Pancakes

Shopping Trip

Poetry

Perfect Soldier

Amends

Game Night

Warning

Memory

Wild Card

Mission

Killer

Demands

Pulling Teeth

Sweater Weather

Breakfast

Dress Up

Carnival

Dinner Date

Trigger

Consequences

Nightmare

Ballroom

Massacre

Monster

Fights

Changes

Lightsabers

Trap

Innocent

Unsaid Goodbyes

Torture

Loop

Present

Status: Active

Lead

Copycat (Coming Soon)

Escape (Coming Soon)

Revenge (Coming Soon)

Soldat (Coming Soon)

[sjsmith56]

Neighbourly

Summary: Bucky meets the new neighbour but it doesn’t go well at first.

Length: 5.4 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, OFC (named but not described), OMC (2 named characters, one described, one not)

Warnings: Cursing, Bucky being a bit of grumpy jerk at first, reference to bad marriage, ex-husband makes an appearance, Bucky’s inner voices chew him out a bit.

Author notes: This is quite fluffy.

🪟 💐 🍕

The first time they met was when a big crash from the hallway outside Bucky’s apartment door startled him. Then he heard the swearing even over the sound of his music.

“Fucking shitty paper bag!” yelled the female voice.

He stood at his door looking out the peephole, seeing a woman bent over picking up scattered groceries and muttering. Unlocking his door, he opened it, causing her to glance in his direction.

“Need help?” he asked.

There was a big sigh, then she looked up and hesitated when she made eye contact.

“No, I can handle it.” She bent back over, then looked over her shoulder. “Thanks anyway.”

“Suit yourself,” he replied and closed the door, returning to his book and his music.

The second time they met was about a week later when he heard three knocks on his door. Looking out the peephole he saw the same woman, facing his door. Unlocking his, he opened it and gazed down at her. She swallowed, as if realizing he was bigger than she originally thought, then scratched her head.

“I locked myself out and the super isn’t answering the door or my phone calls. One of the neighbours said you sometimes are willing to climb up the fire escape and … and break in.”

Bucky resisted the urge to smile but folded his arms over his chest.

“What’s in it for me?”

“What?”

“It’ll cost you.”

“How much?”

He shrugged. “How much you got?”

She clamped her mouth shut, as if attempting to stave off something from coming out of it, then shook her head.

“Never mind. I’ll figure something out.”

Turning away she headed for the stairwell, and he closed his door, locking it. That was when he heard the crying, and he slumped against the wall.

“Good going asshole, you made her cry.”

“I was only joking.”

“Yeah, she thought it was hilarious.”

Unlocking his door again, he went to the stairwell where she was sitting on the top step. As she heard him approach, she wiped her eyes with her hands and looked out the window at a building across the street. Silently, he sat next to her and fished out his handkerchief, handing it to her. She took it and wiped her eyes again.

“Sorry, I was trying to be funny, but it wasn’t.”

“No, it wasn’t,” she agreed. “I don’t have much of anything, not even a job, and I burned through a good portion of my savings to move here, which is looking more and more like a stupid decision.”

“Divorce?”

“Something like that.” She sighed. “Can you help me?”

“Yeah, I can. Wait here and I’ll climb up there.”

She nodded and watched as he went down the stairs. A few minutes later, she heard her door open, and she turned around to see him waiting for her in her open doorway. Standing up, she walked towards the big man and entered as he stepped out into the hallway.

“I had to break the lock on your window, so I’ll head to the hardware store and pick up a new one. I can get you a new chain as well, as the one that’s on your door has seen better days.”

“Thank you,” she answered, then she put her hand out. “I’m Brooke.”

He shook her hand, noticing he had forgotten to wear his gloves. “Bucky.”

She nodded, then handed him his handkerchief back and closed the door, locking it. Bucky stood there for a moment, then put his handkerchief back in his pocket. Returning to his apartment he put his jacket and gloves on, and headed to the hardware store, more of a little hole in the wall operated by a bent over old man, Isaac. As the bell over the door tinkled with his arrival, Isaac came out from the back.

“Bucky, what do you need?”

“A new window lock and a door chain,” he replied, letting the old man search the cluttered shelves for them. “How are you, Isaac?”

“You know how it is for us elderly folks,” he chuckled. “Everywhere hurts but I’m not ready to retire so I work through it. Helps to own the building. If I had to pay the going rent for this size of store, I’d have been out of business years ago.”

“Well, I like your store. Reminds me of when I was a kid and I’d do odd jobs, like sweeping the floor, or cleaning out the storeroom.”

“You need a job, Bucky? If you know bookkeeping, I could use your help.”

“No, I’m on call for the Avengers and can’t commit to regular hours,” replied the super soldier. “My new neighbour needs a job. Maybe I should ask her?”

“A lady? Is she pretty?” Isaac peered up at Bucky with his watery eyes.

“Yeah, she is attractive.”

“You should ask her out. That would be neighbourly.”

“I just met her a week ago and I don’t think she’s looking for company,” answered Bucky. “I think she’s going through a breakup.”

The old man hummed. “That’ll be 8 dollars and 47 cents.” He watched as Bucky opened his wallet, taking out a ten-dollar bill. “Faint heart never won fair lady.”

“I’m not a coward, Isaac,” answered Bucky. “I just don’t want to pressure her when I don’t know her story.”

The old man dropped the change into Bucky’s hand and put the lock and chain into a small paper bag.

“So, start with coffee. That’s no pressure.”

“Thanks, I’ll think about it.”

With a wave, he left the store and headed back to his place. It used to be so easy back in the late 1930s and early 1940s. Women wouldn’t leave him alone, especially when he was in uniform. But that was a lifetime ago and he wasn’t the same man. His anxiety made him clam up or say the wrong thing. A lot of women now were also suspicious of a man who came on too strong, usually with good reason. They sweet talked their way into a woman’s life then made her life miserable by trying to control her, equating it with being masculine. He huffed a little, angry at guys who believed in that alpha male shit.

“You’re working yourself up over it again. Let it go.”

He was getting bothered by thinking of it again and breathed deeply as he walked. Soon, he was at the door to his apartment building and headed up the stairs to his floor. Knocking on Brooke’s door he could hear music inside then footsteps before hearing the sound of her looking out the peephole.

“I have your new lock and chain,” he said, holding the bag up.

She opened the door and stepped back as he stepped in.

“Do you have any tools?”

She shook her head, and he headed back to his place, picking up what he needed. The door was ajar, and he stepped inside to see her unpacking a box of books.

“Me again.” He headed over to the window and unscrewed the broken lock, then lined up the new lock. “Do you have any toothpicks or matchsticks?”

“No, why?”

“I put them in the hole of the old screw, just to fill it in a bit and provide something for the new screw to grab onto. I think I have some. Give me another minute.”

He came back with some wood glue, and several toothpicks and broke them in half. He poured some glue into the holes left behind by the old screws, then stuffed the broken toothpicks into the small holes. After he fitted the new lock over it, he screwed it into place, testing it several times.

“There you go, almost as good as new. Now the door chain.”

She smiled at him and kept unpacking the box, although she glanced over several times as he replaced the door chain. When he tested it, he was satisfied and unlatched the new chain, then opened the door.

“All done.”

“How much do I owe you?” she asked.

“I broke the lock so nothing for that,” he said. “As for the chain … have coffee with me sometime. There’s a nice coffee shop about a block away. I just like regular black coffee so I’m a cheap date, even though it wouldn’t be a date. It would just be neighbours catching up on neighbourhood things.”

A slight smile crossed her face and she nodded.

“Okay, I’ll buy you a coffee. Tomorrow morning at 9:30?”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” he said, smiling. “See you then.” He stopped. “I almost forgot. The owner of the hardware store is looking for a bookkeeper. I said I would ask if you were interested. His name is Isaac and he’s a sweet old man. If you are interested just tell him you’re my neighbour.”

About 15 minutes later Bucky heard Brooke’s door open and close, and footsteps heading towards the stairwell.

“I guess she’s interested in the job.”

That night, Bucky was called for a mission, and he slipped a note under Brooke’s door explaining that he had to go out of town for work, apologizing for missing their coffee date. It would be another week before he saw her again.

When he returned it was late, he was exhausted, and he fell into bed immediately, still in his clothes. It was light when he woke up and he quickly had a shower, then went across the hall and knocked on the door. There was no answer and as he listened carefully, he couldn’t hear any signs of her being there. He went to the coffee shop, but she wasn’t there so he walked past the hardware store, glancing in and saw her at the counter. Opening the door, he stepped inside, the bell on the door announcing his presence.

“You’re back,” she smiled.

“You’re here,” he answered. Then he looked around, noticing the store wasn’t as cluttered as it had been. “What’s happened here?”

“I got the bookkeeper job, then Isaac asked if I could help him organize the store better, so we worked on it all week and this ….” She gestured all around her. “This is what we did. He asked if I wanted to work the counter as well, so I’ve basically got a full-time job now. What do you think?”

Bucky smiled, noticing how excited she seemed to be. “I’m happy for you. You and Isaac obviously hit it off well. Where is he?”

“He’s upstairs in his apartment having a late breakfast. I could call him for you, if you want.”

“No, that’s okay. I was just hoping for that coffee date.”

“The date that isn’t a date, you mean.” She grinned. “Isaac told me you think I’m attractive.”

“I might have said something to that effect.” His face felt warm. “I guess I have to wait until you have a break.”

“Or, we could have a real date.” Now her face was warm. “I kind of owe you for the job. It’s only fair.”

“Tonight?”

“I’m off at 5, and I would like some time to get ready. Pick me up at 6:30?”

“6:30,” he smiled. “Do you like Italian?”

“Love it.”

“Until then.”

He felt a little self-conscious when he left but when he stepped out onto the street, he felt good that somehow, he managed to change a brief coffee date to a real one. Now, all he had to do was get ready. First, he stopped and picked up some flowers. Despite Sam telling him that men didn’t do that these days it was one habit that he really didn’t want to give up. He liked giving women flowers and he thought Brooke might appreciate the sentiment.

Next, what was he going to wear? Right now, his wardrobe was almost exclusively Tshirts, Henley shirts, and well-worn black or blue jeans. He looked down at his scuffed boots. They wouldn’t do. Perhaps a switch to nicer jeans and a button-down shirt would be good. His leather jacket was a little worn as well, so maybe a cloth one would be a good change, especially with the warmer weather. There was a little men’s wear shop on the next block. Perhaps he could go there, tell them what he wanted and not have to spend too much time deciding on colours and styles. When he found himself in front of the shop window, while looking at the mannequins he almost turned around and walked away but a man inside saw him and waved him in. With a deep breath, he opened the door and entered the shop. The man looked him over before speaking.

“Let me guess, you hate shopping for clothing but now you have to attend a special event and you don’t have anything nicer.”

“I have a date.” Bucky’s answer was brief and to the point since his anxiety had already increased. “It’s still casual but these clothes aren’t nice enough for that.”

“I see. What were you thinking?”

“Nicer blue jeans, a button-down shirt, cloth jacket, and nicer shoes than my boots. We’re just going to a little Italian restaurant I like. It’s nothing special but I want to look better than I do now.”

The man studied Bucky as he walked around him. “Do you know your size?”

He shrugged. “I just took what I thought looked right and tried them on. Then I bought extra so I didn’t have to come back. I have issues.”

“Would you allow me to measure you, properly? I promise to make it as quick as possible, but these clothes are a little snug and you want a little give in your clothing for comfort’s sake.”

“I just want solid colours, nothing patterned, or fancy. I’m just an ordinary guy.”

He asked Bucky to remove the leather jacket, then measured quickly around his chest, neck and back. He measured the left arm, noting the firmness of it but not saying anything. Then he measured Bucky’s waist and inseam. Quickly he picked out a couple of button-down shirts, showing them to Bucky, then a pair of dressier jeans and a pair of chinos. Taking them to the dressing room, he left them on the chair and stepped back.

“Try these on. If the shirts are a little snug, we can try a different cut, but I think you’ll like this. The chinos are nice for something a little dressier than jeans but still casual. We can pick out a jacket when you come out as well as a pair of shoes.”

Peeling off his clothes, Bucky put one of the shirts on then pulled the blue jeans on, looking at himself in the mirror. He went out to the front and the man looked at him approvingly.

“Okay, try the chinos.”

With a little sigh to indicate he was approaching his limit for patience; Bucky tried the other shirt and chinos on. Although he liked the feel of the pants’ fabric, they felt even tighter than his normal jeans, plus they were short, barely covering his ankle. It must have been evident on his face because the man found another cut and handed them to him. Reluctantly, he tried them, admitting that he liked the look. When he came out the man was pleased. He had a couple of cloth jackets for Bucky to try, helping to put them on, then stood behind him as the super soldier looked in the mirror, choosing the dark navy one. Finally, he brought several pairs of shoes out, but Bucky didn’t like their look and he didn’t want sneakers. The man brought out a dressier boot which Bucky tried on and nodded.

“I like these,” he said. “Now, tell me truthfully. Do I look good?”

“Yeah, you look really good. You’re a handsome man with a fit body. You should be wearing clothing that emphasizes that. Are you satisfied?”

“Yeah, I am,” smiled Bucky briefly. “I’ll take the jacket, boots, jeans, chinos and both shirts. Might as well have two looks, right?”

“That’s the spirit,” said the man. “Bring everything to the desk once you’ve changed and I’ll ring it up.”

Ten minutes later Bucky was walking home, balancing the flowers and his shopping bags in his hands. it cost more than $300 to update his wardrobe, which was highway robbery. In 1941, $300 would buy him more clothes than his closet could hold. But it wasn’t 1941 anymore, and he really did want to look nice for his date with Brooke.

When he arrived home, he took his new clothes out and hung them up. It would have been nice to wash them first, but the circumstances wouldn’t allow it in the time before he picked Brooke up. Then he took his other clothes off and had a shower, washing and conditioning his hair. When he looked in the mirror after, he wished he had time for a haircut.

“You’re fine. Put some of that product in.”

“Shut up.”

He shaved, for all that was worth as he would have a five o’clock shadow before the end of the night. Then he got dressed, deciding to go with the chinos. As he stood in front of the mirror again with his shirt open, he ran his hand through his hair. When he first got it cut, at that place that specialized in cutting children’s hair and keeping them happy while it was done, the stylist (are there no barbers anymore?) said to put the pomade on dry hair so his hair looked more natural. Gone were the days of slick shiny hair. Now, just about anything went in men’s hair styles except for slicked back, which apparently looked sleazy. Who was he to argue? Rubbing the pomade through his hair just like she told him, he styled it until he was satisfied and washed his hands, then did up his shirt and tucked it into the chinos.

He bought a spray to protect the boots from water damage and sprayed them as instructed on the can, coughing at the chemical smell, then leaving them to dry. The clock on the microwave showed 5:30. He sighed at having to wait another hour and put the TV on, watching the early news, turning it off after 5 minutes because it was all the same thing, trouble in the Middle East, global warming, and crime rates up in the New York area.

“Stop thinking negative thoughts.”

“It’s in my nature to think that after all the shit I’ve been through.”

“But you’re going on a date with a real nice woman. Put some music on.”

He breathed out heavily, then went over to his iPhone and opened it. He found his Benny Goodman playlist and started it, linking it to the Bluetooth speaker he picked up in a clearance bin, turning it up high enough to drown out the stupid voices in his head. Sitting in his armchair, he closed his eyes and let the music distract him, bringing him back to a simpler time. It must have worked because he noticed the clock on the microwave suddenly displayed 6:25. Turning it off, he put his phone in his pants pocket, slipped on his boots, slid a knife down beside his ankle, donned his jacket and picked up the bouquet of flowers. With his door locked, he took the two steps to Brooke’s apartment and knocked. There was no sound. He knocked again. That was when he heard the sound of a restrained whimper, followed by the whispered murmur of a man’s voice, audible only to his enhanced hearing.

“Stay quiet.”

Returning to his apartment he placed the flowers on his counter, then climbed out the window to his fire escape, taking it up to the rooftop. Quickly, he headed to the other side of the building and down the fire escape there, approaching Brooke’s window silently. Instead of coming down the stairs, he climbed on the outside of the landing and let himself drop, using his metal hand to grasp the railing, while his feet quietly slotted onto the open grate of the platform. Climbing over, he peeked in the window but didn’t see anything. Checking the window lock that he just installed the week before, he found it still locked, so the man obviously didn’t enter this way. He must have come in through the door. Pulling his knife out he carefully jimmied the lock without breaking it. Thank goodness for some of his assassin skills. Quietly, he lifted the window up and climbed into the kitchen, slipping off the boots so he didn’t make a sound. Calming himself, he listened for sounds then heard it; Brooke’s worried voice begging the man not to hurt her.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Brooke. Did I ever hurt you before? No, that’s not the type of man I am. I’m going to take you home. The city is too dangerous for you. If I can break in, anyone can.”

“No, I won’t go with you. We’re done, Ray. The papers were signed.”

“Don’t care. We promised til death us do part and I’m holding you to it, regardless of what some piece of paper says. Now pack.”

While the conversation was happening Bucky silently stepped closer to Brooke’s bedroom, until he was just outside the door. He pulled his cell phone out and dialled Brooke’s number; later he could explain why he had it, since she didn’t give it to him. It rang in the bedroom and the man picked it up, seeing the (unknown) as the number.

“Who is it?” Ray asked, angry.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “Let me answer it.”

“No funny stuff,” he warned.

“Hello?” Her voice sounded in Bucky’s ear. “Hello? Who is this?”

“Bucky. Hit the floor.”

She looked at the phone and dropped while he leaped in and tackled the man, knocking him against the wall. Straddling him, Bucky grabbed the handgun the man was holding and turned it against him, aiming it at his forehead. Slowly, Brooke stood up, approaching Bucky and the man.

“My ex, Ray,” she said. “He found out where I lived, picked the lock on the door and was waiting for me when I got home from work.”

“Are you okay?” asked Bucky, without taking his eyes off Ray. “Did he hurt you?”

“Who are you? Brooke, who is this guy?”

She smiled. “My neighbour. He’s an Avenger. Perhaps you’ve heard of him, Bucky Barnes and no, he didn’t hurt me.”

“The Winter Soldier?” Bucky pressed the gun into the man’s forehead, shaking his head. “Are you going to kill me?”

“If Brooke wants me to,” he answered. “What do you say? I can take him out permanently and make it look like a suicide.”

“As tempting as your offer is, no,” she answered, then she dialled 911 on her phone. “I would like to report the breaching of a protection order. My ex-husband broke into my apartment and attempted to abduct me at gunpoint. My neighbour came to my rescue, but I need a couple of officers to take my ex into custody. I wish to press full charges.” She gave them her address, then sat on the bed. “They’re on their way. How did you get my number?”

“I checked you out,” answered Bucky. “Had a hunch you were leaving a bad situation. I can delete it if you want.”

She smiled. “No, keep it, but I get yours in return. Did you have reservations?”

“Yeah, but if you take my phone, you can change them to a later time, if you still want to go out.” She reached into his pocket, held it to his face to unlock it, and found the email confirming the reservation. Calling them, she changed it to an hour later. “You knew who I was.”

“Your left hand was visible when we shook hands. I kind of checked you out, too. Isaac said you were a kind man.”

Ray squirmed. “Wait, you were going out on a date? With him?”

They both looked at him as if he was rudely interrupting and he shut up, still looking at the gun in Bucky’s hand as if it would go off at any moment.

“You look nice,” said Brooke. “You dress up well.”

“I kind of went overboard and bought some new clothes,” replied Bucky, glancing at her. “You didn’t get a chance to get ready.”

“No, jackass here was all over me.”

“I’m not a jackass. Brooke, I love you.”

“No, you don’t, Ray. You wanted a mommy to look after you and cater to your every whim. I wanted a man who pulled his own weight and didn’t make me feel like a prisoner in my own home.” There was a knock on the door. “That should be the police. You can let him up now.”

She left and Bucky stood up, emptied the gun and put it on the bed, before offering Ray a hand.

“Leave her alone, Ray. Let her have her own life.”

“With you?”

“If that’s what she wants. I’m just her neighbour and maybe her friend. Whether it goes further than that will be up to her. But if I see you anywhere near her again, I’ll make it my business.”

He pushed Ray ahead of him, then alerted the officers that the gun was unloaded and on the bed. While one cuffed Ray the other went and retrieved the gun, placing it in an evidence bag. Brooke swore out the complaint, then thanked the officers as they left with her ex-husband. She looked at her watch.

“I’ll be ready in 15 minutes, if you want to wait for me,” she said.

“Yeah, just let me grab something from home,” said Bucky, pulling his boots back on. “I’ll be back right away.”

She left the door unlocked for him while he returned for the bouquet of flowers which still looked fresh. Letting himself in, Bucky looked for a vase in the kitchen, filling it with lukewarm water and pouring the plant food in, using a long spoon to stir it until it dissolved. Then he cut the ends of the plants off with his knife and arranged the flowers, bringing the vase into Brooke’s living room and placing them on the coffee table. He went back to the kitchen to lock the window he jimmied, checking it was still securely fastened. Brooke walked into the living room, putting a sweater on as she walked, and stopped at the sight of the flowers, while Bucky entered from the kitchen.

“You got me flowers,” she stated, seeming surprised.

He shrugged as he looked at the arrangement. “I always brought my dates flowers before the war. It’s old fashioned, I know.”

“I like it. Thank you.”

She beamed at him.

“Damn, she’s cute when she smiles.”

“You’re welcome. Shall we?”

She allowed him to open the door and walked out into the hallway first, as he followed her. Taking her keys out she locked it, then looked at the lock, remembering her ex-husband broke in.

“I can put a new lock in,” he said, taking a closer look at what she had. “These are relatively easy to pick. I can get you one that’s better.”

“Could you pick it?”

Shyly, Bucky smiled. “Probably. But I won’t, unless you want me to.”

“I’ll give you a key, since you’re a good neighbour.”

“I promise to use it only when necessary.”

They walked down the stairs, then he opened the door, letting her out ahead of him. Placing himself between Brooke and the street, Bucky offered her his arm and she took it. They didn’t talk on the short walk to the restaurant, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable for either of them. Once there the hostess seated them right away and asked if they wanted drinks. Bucky chose a beer, while Brooke chose a white wine. After studying the menu, they made their food choices, then waited for their drinks to be served.

“So, do you date much?” she asked.

“No. I think you’re maybe the third date I’ve had since I moved in to that flat.”

“I find that hard to believe,” she smiled. “I mean, you’re so charming at first acquaintance.”

She said it with a straight face then started to laugh. Bucky smiled with her, as their drinks arrived.

“Touché. I was kind of grumpy that day. I am really sorry that I made you cry. That was inexcusable.”

“You made up for it quickly,” answered Brooke. “Especially today. Although, I may have to move now that Ray knows where I live.” She sighed. “I signed a six-month lease as well.”

“I don’t think he’ll bother you again.” Bucky drank his beer. “I kind of told him if he showed his face around you, I would know and make it my business. That wasn’t too presumptuous, was it?”

She sipped her wine and shook her head. “No. I hope that’s just you being neighbourly.”

“It is. Once I update that lock on your door, I can also talk to a friend about a security system,” he said.

“Another Avenger?”

“Yeah, but he knows that stuff and would do it as a favour. You would just have to promise not to reveal his identity.”

“I’m good at secrets.” She smiled, sipping her wine, then looked towards the kitchen as the server brought their food. “This looks good.” She noticed the size of his pizza. “You going to eat all that?”

Bucky nodded. “High metabolism. Means I burn through food quicker.”

“Aah, that explains why you’re grumpy sometimes.” He paused, holding the first piece in midair. “You get hangry.” He shook his head, confused. “Hungry and angry, hangry. It started out as a pop culture term used by a certain chocolate bar for their commercials but apparently scientists have confirmed that a combination of low blood sugar and the hormones released when your stomach is empty can make you feel irritable.”

“Is she serious?”

“Seriously?”

Brooke nodded, then smiled. “We’ve all been there. I might have been a bit hangry myself, at the time. I don’t usually cry in front of strangers, which you were then.”

“And now?”

She looked at him seriously. “You’re a good neighbour who’s quickly approaching the friendship line.”

It was strange how good that made Bucky feel. His friendships were few and far between, usually forged over many weeks of acquaintanceship and shared experiences. All of his stronger friendships were with men, like Sam, and Isaac. Yori had been a friend, but still hadn’t spoken to Bucky since he confessed to killing the man’s son when he was the Winter Soldier. Leah … well, she was an acquaintance who pulled back as well, after he told Yori.

“Hey, are you still with me, Bucky?” asked Brooke. “You kind of went somewhere else for a moment.”

“Yeah, sorry,” he smiled, then picked up another piece of pizza. “I don’t have many friends. It wasn’t exactly a skill that my captors wanted me to retain. I’ll try not to disappoint you.”

“You won’t.”

They talked of many things during their meal, and on the walk home, as Bucky carried Brooke’s take-out container of her leftovers. When they finally got up to her door and she unlocked it, Bucky handed the container to her.

“Should I kiss her?”

“No, you’re not even fully at the friend stage yet.”

“But I have to do something, and a handshake isn’t enough.”

“You’re somewhere else again,” said Brooke, looking up at him.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “Just arguing with myself over whether a kiss goodnight is too much but a handshake isn’t enough.”

“I see.” She looked up at him. “Well, a kiss would make it weird and quite frankly, so would a handshake. How about a hug, a quick one?”

Without waiting for an answer, Brooke quickly wrapped her arms around Bucky’s shoulders and hugged him. He barely had time to put his arms around her back before she was pulling away, but she was right. It was better than a handshake and a kiss would have made it weird. With a nod of his head, he went to his door and unlocked it. They both waved, a little self-consciously, then stepped into their apartments and locked the doors. Strangely enough, they both leaned against the wall just inside their doors and wondered if perhaps someday a kiss would feel just right.

Please support the author by reblogging.

One Shots Masterlist

[avonne-writes]

Bucky & Curt

[barrybclout]

iceman and maverick sprinted like all hell so buck and bucky could strut down the runway with balenciaga heels and gucci slides

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Yeah, so…I’m working on something devastating (speaking for myself here) in the drafts. As soon as I saw this “she said yes” scene my mind went to another war and another set of bros who didn’t know what to do with all the love they had for each other in the times they were in. Am I gonna make a whole Webweave out of Buck Cleven and John Egan to the wartime letters of Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens? Why yes, of course, how very niche and predictable of me…

[wexhappyxfew]

Okay these prompts were so good. It was so hard to decide. After much thought, I humbly present to you “Don’t ever leave my sight again” for Annie and Brady? I feel like the scene you’ve set up for them in the camp, this would really fit for them, but of course only if you think so!

HELLO SWEET ANON!!! thank you so so much for this annie x brady prompt is was an absolute delight and treat to write!! the annie x brady storyline for me has just been continously building and it offered me the opportunity to write their reunion in the stalag and it was a JOY!!!!! i really fueled it with so many heartfelt emotions and i just truly hope you enjoy. writing this made me immensely happy and filled with a lot of emotions, so truly, THANK YOU!!!!i can definitely agree that the camp set up a *perfect* opportunity. and to everyone - here it is! THANK YOU AGAIN!! PLEASE ENJOY!!! <33333

gone to the earth

(a/n): ITS THE ANNIE X BRADY REUNION PIECE YALL. COME AND ENJOYYYYY!!!! let's just say this has been sitting around in bits and pieces for a WHILE and this prompt absolutely gave me every inkling of an opportunity to write the reunion and to say the least, it came out exactly as i was hoping, with the energy i was hoping to portray. i sincerely hope you all enjoy - annie and brady are so special to me as characters and in their connection to one another and i hope to have done them justice for this piece especially; please enjoy!! (also: annie you are so real for thinking of brady in the way you do).

The drainage of color from what must've been a once bright and shining landscape was utterly depleting. The gray sky above hung like a heavy tapestry, fighting to keep whatever light that could've been shining in, out, and the sight of the camp, with its rows of bunk houses, and barbed wire crawling up the sides of the borders were enough to make her shiver.

The unknown was enough to make any person uncomfortable to any sort of relevant extent - especially in wartime. War seemed to bring out all the possibilities of uncertainty and the unknown, and it seemed to be staring her in the face with this camp.

As she struggled to keep up behind the few USAAF POW pilots who were in front of her, she could see the clouded outlines of POWs currently inside the camps, their faces smudged with dirt and grime, hair under beanies and crusher caps, heavy coats and jump gear still strapped up on them with their boots covered in crusted mud and clay.

Squinting her eyes, she could see the looks on a few of their faces as the convoy neared; enough grief, numbness and exhaustion to last a lifetime. A look that might never disappear.

Annie had been limping ever since they were sent marching this direction, the shove on the ground a few days prior, only to be hauled up by her twisted shoulder and dragged on the ground until she could get her footing, had left her feeling limp like a rag doll, her body nearly giving out under the weight. Her entire form ached from exhaustion, lack of food and water, and having spent the last few nights, ever since jumping out of that B-17, almost entirely awake, for fear of someone attacking her as she tried to sleep.

She couldn't trust a soul as far as she could throw them; she was in enemy territory now, in Germany. She was in a place so few seemed to make it out alive in, where they could have her head in seconds and do whatever they pleased with her. Because to them, she was their enemy. Recognizing that would forever feel like a punch to the gut.

Two nights ago when she'd shoved herself in the corner of the room they'd been keeping her in, she'd crafted a makeshift sling to keep her shoulder in place, the ache deep and slightly dulled now by the time she was moving more. Her body couldn't seem to figure out where to place the pain - her heart or her body and she was almost regretting letting herself worry as she had.

Where were Bessie, Kennedy and Margie?

Conditions like herself or worse?

Would they run into the others who were downed?

Or were they dead, gone to the Earth like a last fleeting resource and expense of the war that they were all expected to pay?

An air-raid siren seemed to open up the second the gates to the camp were shoved apart from one another, the immediate rush of pilots inside the camps, flushing themselves against the wiring and metal caging about the borders, their fingers latching onto the sides, immediately yelling out to familiar faces in the crowd, once lost but now found.

Annie lifted her head as the calling out continued, in an almost last-resort hope that somehow in all of this, someone from the 100th was here and alive and well. A desperation latched onto her, the sudden want to see someone from the 100th overwhelming her being as she looked from side to side, keeping herself in line as she continued walking forward towards the second set of gates.

"Annie! Annie Bradshaw!"

The sound of her name mixed in the swirl of other names being yelled, with cheers and call outs, made her suddenly locked up with more emotions than she thought she'd feel.

"Annie Bradshaw! Here! Annie!"

Turning her head to her left, through the crowd of pilots clinging onto the barbed wire, she saw the smiling face of Bucky Egan appear through the crowd, pressing up against the wire and watching her, calling out her name once more as she limped closer with the group.

A certain look in his eye was enough to make her freeze up for a moment - a split second of 'Why are you here? You shouldn't be here? You should be back in Thorpe Abbotts'. And then a mix of 'I am glad you're here and nowhere else now that you're in Nazi Germany'. Suddenly her mind raced - Bucky had gone down with Brady.

Her Brady.

"Bucky!" she called back, weakly, picking up her limping pace forward as she did so, watching that grin grow onto Bucky's face again as he watched her.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he called out to her as the group continued to move forward towards the second gates, and the yelling grew louder and more invigorated, "You should be back in the sky!" She watched him, trying to get her response strung together into a well-thought out sentences and came back with nothing but a puff of air as the realization of just what the last few days of life had been like for her.

From the plane and the flak, to dropping out, being on the run, lost and slightly terrified out of her mind, to captured, in interrogation, lacking sleep and any source of food to here. And she was here. She'd made it here. And Bucky Egan was right there. Some members of the 100th had made it.

Annie tracked Bucky until she'd gotten through the second set of gates - people immediately started coming forward, helping some who were dragging along others who couldn't walk, along with greeting friends and fellow pilots. Something cathartic about it all hit her as she turned and watched Bucky come right towards her before anything.

Maybe in another lifetime, she would've knocked his lights out, but standing here now, the only thing she could grasp onto was the boys from the 100th. Bucky pulled her into his arms quickly, the hug short, but meaningful enough that tears entered her vision at the feel of him right there. Pulling back, Bucky held her at arms length and stared at her long and hard, like trying to figure out what to say and why she was here.

"Bradshaw…." he started, but she just shook her head.

"Your eye." she managed out, catching the blues and blacks mixing around his eye that had evidently been wiped clean of what blood and grime had been there, "Are you okay?"

"Hell, Bradshaw, I should be asking you that," he said in a slightly strained and choked voice, "what the hell happened to you?" What the hell did happen to her? She could barely even get her facts straight of the last few days, let alone talk about it. All of it. The bad, the ugly, the horrid.

"Did any of the others make it….?" she asked him, the sudden realization of her, Silver Bullets' pilot standing there, smacking him in the face, "Kennedy, Bessie and Margie. They split up Silver Bullets, we were losing crews left and right and with a whole lot of new replacements, they needed vets to step in. We all went down somewhere over near Berlin. Did they….? And….and your guys? Anyone?" Bucky watched her for a moment, his gaze both pensive and thick, as if trying to put the pieces together while dissecting her all at once, this shell of a girl, a half-made used-to-be pilot who was now in shambles in front of him, downed and trapped.

"Let me take you back to barracks." Bucky said both calmly and assertively, "Get you some food and water, too." He gave her an extra-long stare. "And a blanket, you're shaking, Bradshaw."

For a split second, she was almost ready to argue back, meeting his gaze, holding up that strong front she had built up the last few days when she'd been alone and struggling to survive under the watchful eyes of the Germans. But now, despite the conditions, this was someone from the 100th, someone from the place she'd started to think of as 'home' and she knew she had to trust him. That opening her mouth would only do more in this moment than was even needed.

"Okay." she said quietly, letting him turn and wrap his arm over her shoulder, his hold on her tighter and more confident than she had ever experienced. Like a sudden need to protect and guard - and if it didn't give her an indication of what she was stepping into, she didn't know what would.

Something in the way he walked, with her tucked into his side, like he didn't want to let on that it was her beside him, a female pilot on her lonesome, there in his protective and caged side. But there was something about the way he didn't talk that scared her.

Bucky Egan was always talking - he practically never even came up for air. So the fact he wasn't talking, wasn't even making a mention of her previous questions and had digressed immediately to discussing going back to the 'barracks' made a small pit form in her stomach enough to make her feel slightly sick.

They came upon barracks with two wooden doors, to which Bucky released his hold on her a bit, leaping up to pull open the doors for her and letting her inside. It smelled musty, like dampened wood and cigarette smoke, along with charcoal and death, and there was enough of a bitter tinge to the air for her to shiver as Bucky came to her side again to lead her down the long hall.

"We're just right in here…." Bucky started to say as he pointed to a doorway that led to a small room, lined with bunks on all sides, half of a table peeking out in the center of the room and a potbelly stove going in the corner. A few people sat around the table - she saw a pair of feet at the edge of one bunk and a head on another.

Annie slowly moved forward into the room and it was almost like a light had been turned on with how quickly heads seemed to turn towards the threshold she had just stepped over.

"Annie?"

"Lieutenant Bradshaw!"

"Bradshaw?"

"What the hell you doing here, Bradshaw?"

Immediately, she was rushed by a hug from someone she couldn't quite find the head to, but then the person pulled back and she was met with the brightly smiling face and shiny eyes of Bessie Carlisle, who was staring at her like she were starstruck.

"Annie Bradshaw, how'd I know you'd find your way back to us?" she whispered quietly, reaching up her hands to softly cradle Annie's head, holding her gently with that smile of hers. Annie met Bessie's gaze, the sudden realization that she had her navigator back, alive and well and very much here, in front of her, and couldn't help but pull Bessie into another hug, filled with relief, joy and a whole swirl of emotion.

"Didn't think I'd live to see the day." Annie opened her eyes as Bessie pulled back and there coming towards her was Kennedy Farley, a slight limp to her walk but a smile on her face and it was enough for Annie to completely disregard the salute Kennedy was about to perform and pulled Kennedy right into her arms. She held onto her like some sort of lifeline as Kennedy's arms immediately went to latch right around Annie right back, the two girls holding each other with tears in their eyes.

"I'm so glad you're here," Annie whispered quietly into her flash of ginger hair, pulling back to look up at her face, "you're both okay?" Annie looked from Kennedy to Bessie who both nodded, before glancing sidelong at one another.

"Margie never showed." Bessie started, "Yet." Annie's gut sank a bit as she looked between both their sets of eyes again and nodded, before looking back to Bucky, who stood by, watching with a solemn look written on his face, enough to hide, but enough to tell at the same time.

Looking back, around Bessie and Kennedy, she was met with DeMarco and Murphy and Hambone, along with Buck and a few unfamiliar faces that didn't exactly hit her memory. There were hugs, there was some laughter, there were even some warming gazes that made her feel more content than she had been in days. But something in her gut was ticking like a clock as she pulled back from DeMarco's warm hug.

"Did Captain Brady make it?" she asked aloud, her voice sounding hollow and strained as she felt her mind turn to turmoil - Bucky was here, he'd gone down with Brady, so how could Brady not also be here right now?

"He did." Buck said almost immediately, "Murph, go get him. He's been out getting some food with a few of our guys for a while now." From the moment she'd heard the words 'He did' fall from Buck's lips, her entire body seemed to freeze up just at that thought. Brady was here and he was in this camp and he was alive. A bubble of relief grew inside her stomach at the mere thought of him. He was alive and here. Murphy hurried out of the bunk room leaving the place in a disarray of a mix between new arrival and long-lost friend.

"Well," Bessie said stepping forward and making way to wrap a blanket around Annie's shoulders, "let's get you situated with some soup and water, huh? No doubt you haven't eaten anything of substance lately."

"Thanks, Bes," Annie said as the navigator helped her settle into a chair with that leg of hers, wrapping the blanket more comfortably over her shoulders and letting her for once sit down. Annie couldn't remember the last time she'd been properly sat down and felt both safe and comfortable that wasn't Silver Bullets.

"It's not much," Kennedy said coming over from Hambone where a bit of soup had been scooped into a plate, "just what we could find. Potato soup."

"It's perfect." Annie said, her eyes slightly widen in hunger as the bowl was placed in front of her, along with a metal spoon, "God, I can't even remember the last I put food in my mouth."

"You want water?" Bucky asked moving towards some of the canteens stacked against the stove as she nodded.

"Thank you all," she said as she took the water canteen from Bucky and sipped the water thoughtfully, "you don't know how happy I am to know you're all here." Annie looked around the room at the people who meant more to her than anything right now, their faces bringing an immense amount of comfort to her trembling form, their presence enough to make her feel safe enough to eat and drink.

"We're happy you're here, too," Bessie said, exchanging glances with a few others around the room, her voice dipping into something broken and lodged with emotion, "worried us when you didn't show. We didn't even know if you'd show. At all."

"Me either." Annie managed out, her throat feeling as if a piece of bread was lodged inside and she couldn't get her words out.

A beat of silence seemed to eclipse them as Annie tasted her first bit of the soup, which was quickly followed by her taking in a larger bit of soup, savoring the watery broth and the stiff potatoes.

But it was food and it was damn-near luxurious to take in right now when her stomach had been empty for days. Her mind was moving a thousand miles a minute though, stomach twisted in anticipation in seeing Brady after all those weeks, after Francis had broken the news.

Francis. Francis Montez.

Annie's heart fell at the realization of just what situation they were in with Francis experiencing the loss of another pilot; another Birdie.

A frenzy of footsteps echoed out from the hallway into the bunk room, a chatter of low voices following, causing heads to turn from the bunk room to the threshold.

As Annie looked up in that moment, there around the corner, stopping to freeze in the doorway was John Brady.

The first thing she took in about him with her spoon half-raised to her chattering and chapped lips, was his eyes, so intently focused on her own, the mixed hues of blue with gray flecks holding her own, his gaze so fixed on her own, she didn't realize that the spoon of soup was falling out of her hands, knocking against the table as it clattered to the ground.

His hair was in his eyes, stranded and hanging over his forehead, parted more down the middle, something she'd only seen from him when they'd been out at the officers' club or when they woke up side by side that one time all those weeks ago. His overcoat was clinging to his body, his boots caked in dirt, his hands filled with, presumably, sacks of the food he'd been scrounging and his entire frame facing her.

"Annie."

The second her name had fallen from his lips, that strong semblance she'd built for herself had quickly fallen in a matter of seconds. She'd stood, with the blanket falling from her shoulders and practically, between a mix of stumbling and limping, launched herself into his arms, meeting him halfway between where he'd been standing and she'd been sat.

Maybe launch wasn't the entire right word, but whatever it was, their arms were locked around one another in a way she couldn't even describe in her mind, her hands reaching up into his hair, trying to hold him as close as physically possible, his own hands tracing up and down her back, lingering on her exposed neckline as he held her there. Her eyes were welled with tears as she felt his hand moving up and down her back in that familiar and comforting, synchronized motion.

It made her think of that last time they'd seen each other - side by side in her cot, his hand rubbing her back as she had curled under the covers and wished him good night. A fateful 'stay safe' lingering on her lips.

Somewhere near her neck was his face, breathing her in, his lips brushing her sensitive skin sending goosebumps across her entire body, suddenly aching for him in more ways than were possible, longing for his hands to be on her longer, tucked up under her shirt, pressing against her cold skin, warming her up and keeping her safe.

"Let's give them a minute…." Annie heard Kennedy briefly say from somewhere behind her, a few muffled voices in response, a few coughs following as feet shuffled out of the room, to God knows where. For a moment, all that mattered to her was that Brady was in her arms at this very minute and safe.

Slowly, they peeled apart from one another, like cracking at a piece of stone to split open, arms still very much wrapped up in one another, their faces still close to each other when they finally locked eyes again, slightly breathless and pink in the cheeks, neither saying a word beyond staring right at one another like it'd be the last time. Annie couldn't help but let a hand crawl to his cheek, her heart pounding inside her chest as she brushed her thumb over his skin, feeling a part of him she hadn't dared to touch back before his plane had gone down. When she'd been scared. Fearful. Locked away.

"You're here." he whispered out, his voice so delicate she was sure she could lose it right there in his warm embrace, "Annie, you're here."

"I am." she said quietly back, continuing to brush his cheek gently, her thumb tracing underneath his eyes that had sunken into his face a bit, yet not dimming that look in his eyes that made her want to burrow right under his arm to hide. A sudden sense of boldness struck her as she stood there, drinking in the sight of him and his face and that look in his eye that made her feel slightly insane and swallowed.

"I can't tell you how much I missed you," she managed out quietly, "after hearing you and Bucky went down….I….." Brady softly cupped her cheek from the other side and offered one of his classic lopsided grins and watched her, eyes painfully brimming with an emotion that hit her in the heart, as she felt the tears build up in her eyes and a sob escape her lips. Her hand came back from his head to instinctively cover her mouth as she squeezed her eyes shut.

"It's okay now," Brady said with a small smile that quivered at the corners of his lips, "you're okay." Annie felt a small whimper escape her lips as she cracked open her eyes and looked to him again, reaching out her hand again to let her fingers dance over the scar above his eyebrow.

"Look at you," she whispered softly, her voice hoarse and filled with a quiet serenity in a way that she didn't quite expect, "did they hurt you?" Brady shook his head gently and continued to rub his hands on her back.

"Don't you worry about me, I'm fine," he whispered, "I'm worried about you." He let his finger dote on her cheek on the bruise from where the ground had met her when she'd passed out. "What about this?"

"I passed out after their interrogation, I'm fine though, really," she said quietly, her voice still strained as she tried to wrangle her emotions in a way she could speak, "I missed you so much." Hearing those words fall from her lips again without so much as a question to repeat those words made her heart ache as she stood in front of him, having him there in her arms.

"I missed you, too, little birdie," he whispered back, a nickname that made her insides twist, before he was pulling her closer to himself, "shit, you're freezing."

"It's cold out." she managed out back with a small smile, to which the corners of his lips grew upwards into that glorious grin of his - the one she'd yearned for and missed day in and day out, all those sleepless nights, staring at the ceiling, wondering where he'd been, what he'd been doing, if he was alive. Something that ate at her core and thrived on the very fact she was worried over someone she would've never met if she never became command pilot of Silver Bullets. If Birdie had never lost her life. The world worked in ways she would never understand nor comprehend. She felt lucky to even know him. Be here with him. Know John Brady for the man and leader he was.

"Have you eaten anything?" he asked her quietly, his eyes darting over her shoulder towards her bowl and water canteen, "Here." Slowly, his hands traveled from her back to her hands on his cheeks and he slowly led her back over towards the bench, lowering her down gently, before reaching down to grab her fallen blanket and spoon.

In a matter of seconds, he was pulling the blanket over her shoulders and wrapping his own arm around her form, his palms rushing up and down the blanket over her shoulders and forearms in an attempt to warm her up. Even in a moment of being again in one another's presence, he couldn't help but take to doing what he did best. And that was care for her when she could hardly care for herself.

"I didn't mean to make you drop your spoon." he said as his gentle movements up and down her arms made her feel warmer than she had in days. She slowly looked up at him with a smile, catching his gaze under the softly lit light above them.

"Just seeing you there, I could've cared less about a spoon on the floor or not." she whispered quietly to him, her eyes holding his. Staring at him, his warmth and her own minimal bit combined, she couldn't help but reach out with her cold hand to cup his cheek again, his firm facade melting at the touch of her embrace there on his cheek again. Tears lingered at the corners of her eyes again as she stared at him, feeling this, all of this around her.

"I thought you were dead." she admitted, her voice sounding weirdly distant from herself as she spoke, "When they told me. About your plane. I thought you were dead. I just….I didn't want you to ever leave my sight again after that." His grip tightened on her as his hand wandered up to her cheek to wipe at that stray tear that struggled to leave her eyes. "And after everything just, sitting here with you….." Her words failed her as they watched one another, her heart pounding at the feel of his hand there on her cheek, cradling a part of her that no one had touched in any way beyond caring for the sick and wounded.

Annie watched his eyes explore her face, seeing the new parts of her that he'd miss in the time they'd been separated, his grip close and tight, like letting her go would make her disappear.

A part of her lingered closer, her eyes darting down to his softly parted lips, the stubble appearing on his cheeks, those strands of hair in his eyes that made her fingers want to start at his chin and dance their way up and across his face to tuck them back from his blue orbs.

An ache built inside her as she softly moved to cradle his face tighter, his head tilting as she felt herself inch closer, his palm pressed against her own cheek as their noses brushed and their eyes closed.

Every part of her was begging for him to come closer, to touch her, to feel her, to pull her as close as physically possible and let her know this was real and they were sitting here side by side. Because one hour ago this was far from the reality and a painful lie of life. But now, she was sat here with him and he was inches from her and she wanted him right there, hands in her hair, across her skin. Her nose brushed his again as a siren suddenly pitched out across the camp, Annie's eyes flashing open in an instance as she looked up from Brady's face and towards the window - an air-raid.

There was one at the other camp too, in the middle of the night, where she'd been curled in a ball on the stiff cot, staring up at the moonlight as the siren went off, over and over throughout the two hour expanse. Her body had shook with each distant bomb drop and in this moment she felt her body freeze, her mind draw blank as footsteps rushed inside the room and voices eclipsed her mind.

"Alright, everyone remain calm." Buck called out to the people of the room rushing in, Annie briefly meeting Bessie and Kennedy's tired gazes from the doorway, "No doubt they're bombing Berlin, or close enough to it to where we can hear it."

"Just stay calm." Bucky said, leaning up against one of the barracks, glancing out the window with a distant look in his eyes, "Those fucking bastards are probably getting what they deserve."

With silence falling around the room, the sudden realization of the spoon in Annie's hand, she looked back to Brady who was watching her with that quiet look still, that soft yearning and gentle touch she wanted to be wrapped in again.

Where his lips had almost touched her own - they'd been as close as their noses brushing - had it almost been more?

Would she have kissed him then and there, and allowed his lips to press against her own, letting herself become undone with his touch, now back beside him?

Her mind raced and her hurt thumped in her chest as her body felt the warmest it had been in days as Brady's hand reached down to pull her free hand into his lap, fingers tracing the delicate parts of her skin, over her knuckles and over each curve and nail. It was enough to make her insides feel funny and she focused her best on taking in more water and potato soup as everyone sat around in the room, the air-raid siren went off and Brady's fingers traced her own.

In a different time and place, she wasn't sat in a POW camp with an air-raid siren going off - she was in a little blue house, on the front porch, staring at the blue skies and the beautiful world around them without war. She was in a different world that wasn't her current reality.

Glancing over towards Brady, she held his gaze as the air-raid siren continued to drone and his hand continued to trace against her skin.

For a moment, she thought in her mind - she had wanted him to kiss her.

Right then and there, side by side, lips inches from one another in that tiny bunk room.

But all she could do was stare at him and plead for another moment where she got to stare at those blue eyes in a world like this.

[haveihitanerve]

Tell me Bucky doesn’t crave physical touch. During the falcon and winter solider I think Sam initiated their touch maybe twice. Every other time they hug or have a shoulder bump or squeeze or something it is always done by Bucky. And Sam is more than happy to provide and I NEED MORE MARVEL. 

Shoulder squeezes, comforting thumps, nudges, thighs pressed fully against the other, fingers curled into each others, little brushes, arms around shoulders, tugging the other back, pressing them against the wall with one arm to shield them, little pushes and nudges and presses, small hugs, big hugs, collapsing against each other after a rough battle, heads buried in the others shoulders, forehead leans, sharing space, invading each others space, what is personal space that doesn't exist, sitting right next to each other even when theres space everywhere else just.. Just give me more please. It doesn't have to be big or known or shouted to the sky, it can be subtle and hardly noticeable as long as its there and constant. Pls. 

[luna-rainbow]

Hello, hello, long rant incoming

When I reposted this on AO3, I had intentionally minimised tagging and summary because I wanted to archive it rather than attract readers. I didn’t even tag it Steve/Bucky because there just wasn’t enough mention of Bucky in it. Importantly, P*ggy was not tagged.

The user calls themselves “Rebuttal” and their only work is another essay rebutting someone else’s post on Civil War, which they had to post separately because I guess the OP blocked them. So we have a serial offender with too much time on their hands going around to directly suck the joy out of other people’s fandom experience.

They begin with this:

Although I don't particularly care for Steve's ending, this essay does not offer support for a different one.

*Inhales* Honey, can you please Google analytical essay and narrative essay before you unload your drivel on other people? This "essay" is a fic - while there's some character analysis, the emotive language should be sufficient clue that the focus is the story. It’s like reading The Fifth Elephant then writing to Sir Pratchett to argue his “essay on Discworld” is factually incorrect because it offers no support for the idea that the Earth is flat.

Steve is self-sufficient. He is not shown as requiring Bucky as foundational to his being. (…) We do know Steve was willing and expecting to go it alone after Sarah's death and that he is fully confident in his own abilities; he can "do this all day." Bucky's offer at the apartment earns a small smile, not a great overcoming.

I enjoyed how you, at multiple points in your essay, pick at certain turns of (evocative) phrasing while ignoring actual canon mentions. Explain why you deliberately omitted my mention of the canon phrase "Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky". Sure, Sarah was Steve's touchstone, but Steve's words clearly indicated that upon Sarah's death, that touchstone role shifted to Bucky.

Steve's "I can do this all day" is said a total of 4 times during all the movies. Each time he says it to a bully (one time he specifically says it to protect Bucky), and never in relation to his emotional turmoil. Also just, factually, he never references "I can do this all day" when Sarah dies can you be real for a sec.

It's mighty rich of you to say a grieving person who had JUST BURIED HIS SOLE LIVING RELATIVE that a) "he is willing to do it alone" - I can guarantee no one who has lost their sole beloved family member feels "willing" in that situation; and b) downplaying the smile that took all of Steve's energy to muster. All I can conclude is you know nothing of grief. (And since you love the word "disservice" so much - your interpretation of the scene is a fucking disservice to CEvans' acting.)

Steve's choice to go to war has nothing to do with Bucky. Steve has tried five times to enlist and stated his reasons, which have nothing to do with Bucky and everything to do with not liking bullies.

Because, you know, saying “I want to join the 107th cos I’m gay for my best friend” is going to go down real well in the 1940s military *snerks*

Can you get your head out of your ass for one minute and consider that people make decisions based on multiple factors? By acknowledging that Bucky is an important factor in Steve wanting to join the war DOES NOT MINIMISE STEVE'S MORAL COMMITMENT TO FIGHT BULLIES.

Steve is also not aghast at hearing Bucky's assignment. - Back this up.

Bucky does not believe in pre-serum Steve as much as pre-serum Steve believes in himself. - Right. *In Bucky’s tired voice* Because simply ~*♫~believing in yourself~*♫~ is going to stop you getting killed. This is a fucking war, not a back alley. Do you know the death rate for US soldiers in WW2? 1 in 40. For perspective, the death rate from coronavirus is currently sitting at 1 in 70.

Whether Bucky went to war or not, Steve wanted to go. - Again, back your ass-umptions up.

Steve was told Bucky was dead. He was going to try to rescue the rest of the 107th. Again, to suggest that Steve's courageous act is about Bucky is a disservice to Steve.

So not only do you remember fuck all about the movie where it doesn’t involve your fave, you apparently remember fuck all about the scenes where YOUR FAVE APPEARS.

P*ggy: “What do you plan to do, walk to Austria?” Steve: “If that’s what it takes.” P*ggy: “You heard the Colonel. Your friend is most likely dead.” Steve: “You don’t know that.”

NOW LOOK THOSE WORDS IN THE EYES AND TELL ME HIS RESCUE MISSION IS NOT ABOUT BUCKY.

Also, Steve wanting to rescue his best friend is a "disservice" to his character? Condolences to your friends and your character, I guess.

It is strange to ignore Steve's interactions with people other Bucky. Okay here we go, we’re finally getting to why this steaming trash heap landed in my inbox. It's Peggy who - I knew it. I fucking knew it. Of course it came from someone who likes Miss I-need-to-make-everything-about-me - appreciated pre-serum Steve at the flagpole - Oh you mean the appreciation she showed by not uttering a single word to him?

Peggy and Erskine supported pre-serum Steve's drive to do his part when Bucky did not. It seems truer to say that they more likely "kept Steve afloat" during his basic training, of which Bucky had no part.

Hold on. *walks off to cackle* *walks back, wheezing*. P*ggy kept Steve afloat? Miss-never-said-a-single-word-to-Steve-P*ggy, “supported” Steve during his basic training??

Again, I urge you to actually watch CATFA, where *checks notes* your fave has her biggest movie role. AFTER STEVE FINISHES BASIC TRAINING, the two of them sit in a car and exchange the infamous lines:

P*ggy: “You have no idea how to talk to a woman, do you?” Steve: “I think this is the longest conversation I’ve had with one.”

They have, by their own admission, not had a conversation before this, so which bull’s ass did you pull the “P*ggy kept Steve afloat during his basic training” shit out of?

There is nothing in the scenes to suggest he finds it a great miracle. The whole assumption of Steve's reaction seems to be a Bucky-centric projection rather than Steve-centric.

No, honey, I think you are just blinded by your Bucky hate. You looked at a scene where 2 characters (including your fave) claimed that Bucky is no longer alive, and Steve himself said, "I thought you were dead" - and Bucky was, against all odds and expectations of at least 3 different characters, found alive...and said, NAH NAH NAH NAH there's nothing here! There's nothing~here~to~suggest~it's a miracle.

Honestly I think you're the one living in a different plane of projection.

When Steve awakens in the future, his line to Fury is "I had a date." With Peggy, not Bucky.

Pfft he said “I had a date”, not "I had a date with P*ggy". So your interpretation is just as invalid.

And just, realistically, do you really think Steve is deluded enough to expect he’d wake up in time for a dance? And...do you really think Steve is desperate enough that he'd go for a woman who blasted him with live rounds for locking lips with another woman? When in your own words you said he hates bullies?

We do not know what Steve thought as he died, so saying he is content with death is not supported.

How about this -- "we do not know what Steve thought as he died, so saying he is not content with death is not supported". It’s my conjecture against yours and you’ve come onto my turf to be a presumptuous prick.

He has Peggy and Natasha. To ignore these two relationships seems to do a disservice to both characters.

Ah yes, the great relationship with P*ggy, who in 5 minutes of her screen time is characterised by: 1) mocking Steve as “dramatic” when he asks for guidance, and 2) her florid delirium in which he had to pull the emotional labour to placate her, and 3) her being grateful that she's led a great life without Steve.

If oldwoman!P*ggy was such an important relationship to Steve, he wouldn't have lamented to Natasha that "it's not easy finding someone with shared experience".

If there is any lesson Steve should learn in the modern day, it is that Steve sacrifices and Bucky leaves. Once involuntarily with the Snap, but twice voluntarily.

WHO THE FUCK HURT YOU AND MESSED UP YOUR BRAIN. I don't know how you can look at those scenes and pretend that the sole victim is Steve.

(Actually I can, because it's a common refrain from certain shit!stans who can't deal with the idea of Bucky being morally good)

Bucky sacrificed his own freedom and lived time in order to protect other people from getting hurt. And Bucky being involuntarily "Snapped" only counts as "Steve's sacrifice"?? The one who actually dies/gets Snapped isn't making a sacrifice? My gods the logic in this one is strong. (Also by referring to Bucky's death as Steve's sacrifice you have inadvertently acknowledged just how important Bucky is to him but I guess that flew over your head like the rest of this story)

It also ignores that Steve lived five years without all of those people. He had accepted the loss and changed into someone they would never truly know or understand.

Mate…

Do you hear yourself…

YOU LITERALLY WROTE THE COUNTERARGUMENT TO YOUR ENTIRE ESSAY.

Steve lived TWELVE YEARS WITHOUT YOUNG P*GGY. He had ACCEPTED THE LOSS (although, in my mind, it's really no big loss) and BOTH OF THEM HAD CHANGED INTO COMPLETELY UNRECOGNISABLE PEOPLE, not to mention they never truly knew or understood each other to begin with. So if your logic is that Steve has changed too much in 5 years to be around his old friends, why the fuck would he want to be around a woman he last saw 12 years ago and who he knew got an entire happy married life with another man. Eww.

I mean if NTR is your kink that's fine but no need to flaunt that on my turf.

The fun thing about fandom is that canon is open to different interpretations. You could read the tavern scene to say P*ggy is inviting Steve to be her right partner, just as I could point out that Steve’s pointed silence is a resounding rejection of that invitation.

But there is incorrect fandom etiquette, and that’s when you stomp into an innocuous narrative musing and start a ship war.

And I beg of you to learn another word from "disservice".

(The whole pile of horse shit for anyone needing to have their blood boiled)

[imposterogers]

no fr marvel (disney) was so upset that ppl wrote a bunch of fanfic about steve n bucky that they decided their only option was to just ignore all previous canon and throw their entire dynamic down the garbage disposal. instead of. you know. just ignoring it and keeping their relationship platonic like we all expected

[winterspiderpurrs]

Okay but Peter and Bucky is the friendship that no one expects.

They tease each other a lot. They argue a lot. But they also sit together in silence a lot too.

They constantly touch each other too, which is weird cause Bucky hates being touched and doesn't touch others. But Bucky knows that Peter craves the physical touch, especially after the snap.

" I know I'm real... that I'm whole and I'm just not ...nothing in the wind again.. it grounds me"

Peter likes making Bucky things, knitting blankets, gloves, hats, scarfs. Sure some of them aren't as pretty as they could be but Bucky still gives a small smile and wears them. And yeah some of the people on the team makes fun of his fashion choices but he just rolls his eyes. Peter knows that even though Bucky runs a little warm because of the serum, he still feels the lingering ice of being put in cyro so often.

" When I'm warm... I know that I'm not back in some bunker waiting to be wiped again before being put under"

And it's Bucky cornering Peter's boyfriend giving him the shovel talk. He takes great joy in stabbing Deadpool to make sure the point is across.

[imawreck]

Monster

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x Original Character

Summary: The aftermath of the mission is mortifying, and so are the discoveries.

Author’s Note: This one gets tough home-slices, so buckle up.

Warnings: gore, blood, wounds, mentions of scarring, suicidal thoughts, LOTS of angst, depression

Word Count: 4,539

Max-

Everything stung.

I could feel my lungs burning, aching for air, but still I fought against the torrent of water. I desperately clung to the base of the water tower as the town fried, Hydra along with it. I felt the electricity rip at my skin and burn away at me. Still, I held on. I kept my head out of the water for the most part, but the sparks still jumped at my face and nicked my cheeks.

The moment it all eased, I was gasping for air as I sputtered to clear my senses. The pain was agonizing as my skin tried to heal itself only to be burned off again. I searched for land with my palms and swam ahead towards where I knew Bucky would be. Where I hoped he would be. I prayed he had gotten out alive.

I nearly cried when my hands brushed dirt and I was able to haul myself out of the water and away from the pain. I tried to keep my mind calm in the face of everything, taking in one shaky breath at a time as I assessed myself. I could feel the burns receding, but it was slow. I had overworked myself and my energy was depleted. I was lucky if I could make it up the steep incline without passing out.

The water made my hair cling to my neck in clumps and my eyelashes clung together in my line of sight. There was an aching in my shoulder where I knew a bullet had made its home. The wound refused to heal, the rest of my body having taken too much already. I would have to remove it and find somewhere to rest.

I reached for my earpiece, but found nothing. No comms. I wouldn't be able to radio base or Bucky without it. I sighed, taking a moment longer before I began to climb. I took it slowly, each palm full of dirt took another ounce of energy from me. But I would make it, I had to. Bucky was somewhere, I knew it. I had to find him.

When I reached the tree line, I nearly passed out. My vision was clouded in pain and exhaustion, and my body screamed for me to stop as it gave out beneath me. But I couldn't. Not yet. I had to find him.

"Oh my god, Max!" Knees hit the ground next to my head and blue clouded everything I could see. "I thought you were dead." The last word came out of him in a tortured way.

I coughed, trying hard to smile despite the circumstances. "Takes a bit more than that to kill me."

There wasn't any humor in his face, and I tried hard to ignore the way he looked at me. It was different than before. Different than the gentle look I had been accustomed to these past few months. It felt wrong.

His hands hovered over me, "What can I do?"

I pressed a palm into my shoulder, easing a muscle there. "We need to get out of here, but I don't think I'll make it if I walk. I'm not doing so hot right now. Took too much energy and I can't heal properly yet. I know a place near here, a couple of miles up the mountain where no one can find us. We will have to set up a signal to radio base from there but if I'm right, everything we will need will be there."

"Hydra will send more agents to scour the area-"

"Trust me, they won't think were stupid enough to go where we're going." I grimaced as a wave of pain swept from my shoulder down my body. "Can you help me up?"

Bucky slipped his metal arm under my legs and lifted me up. I hissed as he brought me into his chest, fighting against the urge to cry out at the stinging pain in my shoulder. His voice rumbled against my back, "Up the mountain?"

I nodded and the two of us began our trek. I drifted in and out of consciousness as my body fought to regenerate itself with such depleted resources. I would only wake when Bucky needed me to answer a question or point in a direction.

The air had gotten subtly cooler the higher we went. Our suits kept us warm, but the breeze on my neck still sent a shiver down my spine. Bucky's arm felt cooler against my legs even through the material of my uniform too. I glanced around, spotting a few tell tale signs I had made for myself in the past. A set of stacked rocks and a withered carving of a star on a tree a few feet from that. "We're close. Just up ahead is a shelter."

Bucky didn't speak as he continued walking. He hadn't spoken much to me this whole time and I couldn't figure out if it was because of the nearly failed mission or something else entirely. His face was a mask, one he wore regularly around the team but rarely when we were alone.

"I think I can make it in on my own now, but we should scout around to make sure it's clear."

He gave me a nod, lowering my feet to the ground before he released me entirely. I watched him survey the area and check for tracks or any recent visitors who would come looking around. I managed to climb the few stairs and make it to the door. I pressed it open with my palm and let the cool drift of air swing it open. I took in the dust and the lack of furniture, just like I had left it all those years ago. The glass from the lightbulb was still scattered over the nightstand and littering the floor. A pan still sat on the stove and a single wool blanket laid draped over the bare bed save for the flattened pillow at the headboard. There was a chair just a few feet from the door where I let my body drop, drooping against the wood and taking a moment to breathe.

Bucky entered a few minutes later, steely eyed and clenching his jaw. "There weren't any signs of occupancy so we should be good for a while as long as Hydra doesn't come knocking."

"They wont," I assured as I leaned down to unstrap my boots and kick them off. "There are candles in the nightstand and matches in the top drawer. It will be dark in a few hours and we will need the heat."

He nodded, frowning as he went to retrieve the items. I slipped off my suit, easing my sleeve down my arm and tugging the fabric free of my shoulder. Blood coated my undershirt and continued to ooze out of the bullet hole. Not good. "Hey, Bucky?"

His head peaked up from the cabinet a few feet away, "Yeah?"

"I need your help with this."

He paused to put the candles on top of the nightstand before he made his way back over to me. I pushed my shoulder forward for him to see, turning my back to him.

"Why are you still bleeding?" His warm hand laid on my good shoulder, tugging at my shirt to get a better look at it.

"I took a lot of hits, and I'm out of energy. I'm surprised I'm still conscious at this point."

Bucky let out a shaky breath, "What do you need me to do?"

"The bullet is still in there," I started, "So I need you to get it out." I turned to face him. His brows were pinched uneasily and there was worry in his eyes. A torrent of emotions swam behind them. I waved weekly to the floor near the bed, "If you move the bed to the right, there's a pair of loose floorboards."

He left my side and strode over to the left side of the bed and nudged it over, feeling around the floor until the boards shifted. He tugged a knife from his belt and used it to pop the board up, taking the other out with it.

"There should be an artillery box, pull it out and open it." I could hear the clank of metal as he unlatched the top. "Should be right there, the red box." I listened as he ruffled through the scarce items inside to pull out the metal box.

When he returned to my side he held it in his hands, opening it and digging through its contents. "There aren't any pain relievers."

I shook my head, "I know. Just grab a rag from the bathroom."

Bucky stared at me for a moment, as if he wanted to say something before he went away to retrieve it. He walked around me and surveyed what he could before speaking lowly, "You'll have to remove your shirt. I can't see much with all the blood."

My heart dropped and my body tensed, sending a sharp jab of pain through my arm. I was hoping he wouldn't ask that. That maybe he could just go in blindly and yank it out. Of course, Bucky was too kind to be that reckless.

I tried to raise my arms to remove it, but it only sent another wave of agony over me. I looked to the floor, "You'll have to help me."

He did so without a word, taking the hem of my shirt and lifting it over my head slowly. I could hear his sharp intake of breath at the sight of my skin. His eyes burned all the way up to my neck. I knew what it looked like, the valleys between scarred skin and the ugly, gnarled map slashed over my back. There wasn't a patch of unmarked skin over the expanse of my spine and the patches reached around my torso in certain places.  The scars were shimmery and a sickly white color thanks to my healing.

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair as I slipped my bra strap down my shoulder to get it out of the way. "Just get it out, please."

"Right, I'm sorry."

I brushed off his apology with a shake of my head. Silence filled the room as he began setting out the various supplies he would need. The smell of alcohol filtered into my lungs and I invited the sting gratefully, anything to distract me from what was about to happen. A rag was draped over my shoulder and I took it without a word, biting into it and gripping the chair in my good arm.

"Okay, bare with me."

That was the only warning I got before cold metal was plunged into my back.

I clenched my jaw, fighting against the urge to scream. What pathetic sounds that did leave my body were muffled by the cloth between my teeth. I could hear the wood crack under my grip as he began to dig through my flesh and poke at the shard of metal buried under my skin. It was brutal, tormenting. For a moment I was sure I was going to pass out from the pain, but then it was gone and the distinct tinker of metal against a tray echoed through the small shack.

I felt my shoulders sag and labored for air, spitting out the rag. "Thank you."

Bucky just nodded once he was in front of me, offering me a hand. "You should rest."

I couldn't do much more as I nodded and accepted his hand. He tugged me up and guided me a few feet to the bed where I collapsed agains the mattress. I was out within minutes. The last thing I remembered was the sound of the artillery box latch.

______

When I woke, the shack was lit with candles and the smell of spam clung in the air. I was notedly less sore too which was a good sign. My shoulder complained as I eased myself up on it, reaching back to check if it had healed. My fingers grazed a rough patch of skin, and I sighed in relief. It had scabbed, no more hole.

There was a sharp movement in my peripheral vision and then the sound of paper being slapped down. I jumped at the sound, hissing at the ache that followed.

Bucky sat with his back against the wall across the room, one leg sprawled out in front of him while the other was tucked under his arm against his chest. A file sat next to him and another laid spread across the floorboards in front of him all around in a semi circle so all the papers were visible. He looked upset with his brows pinched together and his eyes wide, almost scared.

I felt my eyebrows pull together as concern rose in me, "Bucky-"

"What the hell is this?" Bucky didn't look at me when he spoke, never taking his eyes off the file papers on the floor.

"What's what?" Confusion clouded my mind. "I don't understand."

"Don't play stupid, these were in your box. This one," he picked up the empty Manila folder and tossed it over to my feet. I could read his name in bold black letters that I knew to be decades old, "has my name on it."

I shook my head in confusion as I studied the cover, "They're files I stole from Hydra years ago. I only got a chance to look at them once."

Bucky's voice boomed through the house, "But you knew!" His scoff grated against my ears, "You knew this was here and what was in it. You knew, and yet you didn't care to tell me about it." He pointed at one of the sheets on the floor, "And this one has trigger words on it, but none that I can ever recall hearing. This set is all new and God knows what they do to me. The notebook they wrote about in here was destroyed. No way for anyone to figure out how to use this set, maybe it does something worse than the others." Bucky's face suddenly loosened, like something dawned on him. He finally looked at me, but it was almost worse than when he wasn't. "Do you know what they're for?"

"I..." I did, at least I thought I did, but I hadn't remembered the files.

Truly, I had no idea if the box would even be here any more. I planned long ago to hide them away so when we got out— Bucky and I—I could find someone to help him. The words on those papers are reversal words. A prototype at least, they haven't ever been used or tried. It was a shot in the dark but it was better than nothing.

I opened my mouth to tell him just that, the truth and nothing else. But the longer I looked at his face, the clearer it became that he wouldn't trust a word I would say to him. He had deemed me an enemy the moment he asked me that question. It wouldn't matter if what I told him was the truth, he wouldn't believe me.

So I said nothing.

He took my silence as answer enough, laughing bitterly. It stung me like nothing before. "You know, first I was so sure that you were different. I thought that maybe Hydra didn't mess you up to the point where you were irredeemable like everyone else thought you were. Then you go on that mission with the others and Steve comes back telling me you're some sort of rabid animal. I defended you then, but what I saw today was worse than what he described to me. You literally ripped those men apart. I watched you. You wanted to evacuate and leave Natasha!"

I could feel myself drain at his words and my body cave into itself as he spoke. He was terrified of me, of what I had done to get us out of there. But he kept going.

"I watched you bring down that water tower on a town of innocent people to kill a squadron of Hydra agents. Is that all you care about? Killing?"

I was at a loss, floundering to make sense of the whole situation. "Of course not, Bucky, no! I care about so much more and I-"

"Like me?" He cut in, "Because I'm the asset, right? I'm your mission. Those were your first words to me the moment you stepped out of that Godforsaken place. But that's all I am to you, all I'll ever be, right? I'm so stupid!" He slammed his hand against the wall and the wood splintered upon impact. "Steve was right, you're nothing but a weapon, a loose cannon. You... you're a monster worse than me."

Silence. That's all there was between us after those words left his mouth.

I felt empty and dark, like the lights had gone out and there was that pit in my stomach eating me up again just like it did all those years imprisoned.

Bucky just sat their, unmoving, staring at me with those eyes that screamed betrayal. I had never meant for this, for any of it. I hadn't meant for the mission to fail and I never wanted to leave Natasha. I trusted her skills enough to know she would get herself out of there. We had talked about it on the jet. She wasn't supposed to go against my orders and she told me if anything went wrong I should get out of there and not worry about her. I should've known she was going to do something reckless.

Here I was though, paying a price I didn't owe. Taking Hydra's blame onto my own shoulders in the face of someone... Someone I love.

It was too much. Too much pain for me to bare. So I shut it off, shoved it down into the farthest part of myself and did what was beat into me all those years. I could deal with emotions later. Right now, I had to complete a mission and return to base with my team. I stood wearily from the bed, feeling the cold air seep into my bones.

Bucky shifted as I moved past him and opened a cabinet as calmly as I could manage, taking out the receiver inside. I made sure my voice was even as I spoke, "I'll set up the receiver outside and radio base. Rest if you can. I understand you are uncomfortable with my presence so I'll make myself scarce. I will camp outdoors and wait for their arrival." With that, I marched over and snagged my suit off the chair and slipped it on before I opened the door and slammed it behind me.

I felt like a hurricane was tearing away at my insides, like the world had cracked open and was threatening to drag me down with it. How could he say that to me? How could he accuse me of that? He hadn't even given me a chance to explain.

I climbed up the hillside, clawing through the snow. Bucky's words echoed around in my skull and the longer I listened to them the deeper the pit inside me grew. The numbness spread from my stomach to my heart like a poison. It oozed into my blood and clung to my organs, taking all the pain as it grew until I felt nothing at all. Nothing but the biting cold.

I raised the receiver above my head and swung it down, burying it into the top of the hill and hunkering down to attach the radio. It fizzled to life in my hands and I adjusted the antenna until the line became clearer. "Ghost to base, come in."

I waited, hearing the crackle of life. "-Ax! Max thank God." Tony's voice was almost a relief. "It's good to hear from you, kid."

I felt the numbness wane at his words, "Hey, Tony."

"You sound terrible. We should definitely get you home. Natasha came back late this afternoon with the device and said you found a place to lay low." He paused for a moment, "Are you two okay out there?"

I felt relief sweep over me before it drowned in the tar enveloping my insides. "I have sustained minor injuries but I’m recovering quickly. Barnes is fully functional. We need evac as soon as possible, Hydra is still in the area. Coordinates are 48.2775 degrees North, 8.1860 degrees East."

"Whoa there Kiddo, no need to be so formal. I'll have Friday notify a team right away. We will have you two lovebirds out of there in no time."

I flinched at his words but chose to ignore it, the team would find out about everything soon enough. "I'll be on standby until then."

"Copy that."

I sunk back in the snow, feeling it soak into my suit. It didn't matter to me, everything felt cold anyways.

The stars were bright and the moon was absent to allow them to outshine it for the night. I could hardly stand to be in this place with all that has happened. The shack Bucky occupied was once my own, my place of hiding and a residence when I worked for Hydra. I had been normal back then, before any needle had punctured my skin. I had been brave and full of life…naïve. I had thought that place was my home for many years and now it was nothing but an empty room with a fog of horrible memories.

I laid down, letting my hair down to dampen in the snow. Maybe if I just laid here it would all go away. I would wake up and it would all just be a nightmare I had lived through so many times before. I clamped my eyes closed and let the snow fall over my face and stick to my skin. Sleep, just sleep.

But I was never given such an easy blessing, not once in my life. I didn't sleep a wink the entire night.

_____

The jet came in the early morning before the sun had peaked over the horizon. I watched it descend onto the white mountaintop before me as I tugged my stiff limbs from the snow. I hadn't moved an inch since I radioed the tower, letting the snow encapsulate me and consume me. My fingers were blue and stiff, but they were long since numbed. I squeezed them, pumping my fingers into fists over and over again to try and get the blood flow working again.

The hatch of the jet lowered and out came Natasha followed by Steve and Clint. They all were dressed in their uniforms and looked ready to take on the world like always.

I stood up from my spot, dragging my legs out of the snow and dusting off the rest of my suit. My legs carried me towards the jet without me really thinking about it, seeking out the warmth it held. As I brushed passed Steve I spoke lowly, trying hard to keep the disdain out of my voice. "Barnes is in a shack a mile down the mountain. It's the only place for miles so you can't miss it." Steve merely nodded and brushed past me.

Natasha frowned, looking me over. "Did you sleep outside? Your lips are blue and you're freakishly pale."

I nodded, "Don't worry, I'll warm up soon."

"It's 24 degrees out here, Max."

I whirled around, "I said I'm fine." She jumped, tilting her head and leaning back as if I had hit her. I sighed, "I'm sorry, just drop it. Get Barnes and get us out. I want as far away from here as possible."

I didn't wait for her response before I walked away. I marched back to the cabin when I knew Barnes was surely halfway back to the jet, taking a different route to avoid the two Super Soldiers. The door was left open, flurries drifting in and settling  against the floorboards and over the papers left spread over them. Just mine, his own file I imagined was tucked into the waistband of his pants to be kept somewhere safe.

I stooped down and collected them neatly before sliding them back into the Manila folder, tucking it back into the artillery box by the bed. I clamped it shut and hauled it up, carrying it out the door and back up to the jet. I kept my eyes forward and strapped myself into the farthest possible seat in the jet. I didn't speak to anyone the whole flight and once again sleep eluded me. 

When we landed at the tower I was the first one out, marching towards the elevator and nearly slamming into a lab tech before a voice called out. "Lady Max?" I swiveled around to find Thor in the elevator, the doors wide open. He eyed me with a worried gaze, "Is everything alright?"

Maybe it was the way he asked, the lack of accusation or the pure concern for me that made my shoulders slump. There was no fear in his voice like the others so often held even if they didn't mean to. It was just a question of whether or not I was well and if things were okay.

"No, not really." I slipped into the elevator beside him and leaned against the wall. "The mission went sideways and everything went down after that. My body is hardly functioning or healing correctly and I haven't slept in 33 hours."

Thor didn't seem at all phased by my complaints, "That sounds difficult, no wonder you're tired."

"Yeah," I looked up at him to find he was already smiling kindly at me. His shoulder was leaned against the wall as we went upwards. I didn't even remember telling him what floor I was on.

As if reading my mind chuckled, "I figured it was your floor I ran into you on so I just pressed it again."

"Thank you."

"Any time," he shuffled his arms as we came to a stop and the doors opened up. "I hope you get some rest."

I turned around after I left the elevator, taking one last look at him before I smiled. Really smiled at him. "I'll try."

The doors closed and I made for my door, slipping behind it and leaning my back against the cool metal once it was closed. The events of the mission began to replay through my head as if to mock me. Bucky's terror and his words were the worst part.

I had never experienced heartbreak before, not this kind. It was raw and felt like a wound that wouldn't heal. The ache in my shoulder paled in comparison. I could feel the tears begin to gather and cloud my vision as I fought to muffle the cries that threatened to tear out of me. It was pathetic, weak. I was the strongest person in the building, I shouldn't be crying like a child on the floor. But here I was. Hurt, and alone.

Just like I was in the beginning.

Tags<3

@cjand10 / @blackbirdwitch22 / @imdoingathingmom / @calwitch

[sjsmith56]

I Won’t Watch You Die

Summary: AU one shot. Bucky and Steve, caught during a bank robbery are given the opportunity to become part of a special unit for the Strategic Scientific Reserve, formed to fight HYDRA. Bucky’s wife is happy they aren’t in jail but she has her own fears of what could happen to her husband.

Length: 7.1 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, named OFC, Steve Rogers. Brief cameo by General Phillips, Dr. Erskine, Agent Peggy Carter, Bruce Banner and Sam Wilson.

Warnings: Minors DNI - brief scene containing mild sexual content which may be unsuitable for underage readers. OFC worrying about Bucky, OFC seeming a little bitchy due to stress, economic circumstances making life difficult for working class, heartbreak.

Author notes: This AU is set in the early 1940s, after the United States have entered the war.  The Depression lasted longer in this universe, affecting many more people, including Bucky's family who lost their house when his dad was injured at the shipyard.  After getting laid off himself, Bucky and Steve turned to bank robbery, hoping to use the money to help as many families as possible in their neighbourhood survive until the war economy takes root.  Steve's mother is still alive but is not doing well.  The opening scenes are inspired by the film Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.  The dialogue (marked with *) in the bedroom disrobing scene is taken from the film and was written by William Goldman.  The title is also a line from the movie but is used in a different context here.

Brooklyn, spring 1943

It had been a long ride on the subway back to Brooklyn and the young teacher was tired.  Etta stayed at the school to finish marking assignments, not wanting to bring them home over spring break.  By the time she got to her stop the sun was almost set and it looked like there might be a late spring snowstorm.  Drawing her thin coat around her, Etta exited the car at the elevated station and stepped carefully down the stairs exiting out the gate at the bottom.  The wind came up, biting through her clothing, even as she wrapped her arms around her, trying to protect her gloveless hands from the elements.  There was nothing she could do about the bare legs, having torn her last pair of stockings the week before.  With rationing because of the war limiting the supply she hoped that warmer spring weather would come soon.

Finally reaching the row of brownstones that had been converted from single family homes to flats, she went up the stone steps, then in through the front door, stopping to open her mailbox and collect her mail.  Quickly, she flipped through them, grimacing at the number of bills there were.  The afternoon newspaper was also there, and she briefly read the headline about the latest bank robbery, blamed on two local men she knew well.  Folding it back up she tucked the mail and paper under her arm and went up the three flights of stairs to her one-bedroom flat, unlocking the door and closing it then turning on the kitchen light.  The bundle of papers was placed on the kitchen table.  Her coat came off, followed by her shoes, then she slipped her cold feet into her slippers left by the door.  It was chilly in the flat, and she opened the coal fireplace in the parlour, tossing several pieces into the burner, then a few lit matches, hoping it would catch.  As she walked towards her bedroom she unbuttoned her sweater, taking it off in the room lit from the light spilling in from the kitchen.  Hanging it up in the wardrobe she turned around, startled to see a man sitting in a chair beside her bed.  His face was obscured but he was big, based on the shadowy outline of his figure.

"Keep going teacher lady*," said the man, glancing at a gun on the table beside him, then focusing his eyes on her.  "It's okay, don't mind me.  Keep on going.*"

She froze until he turned on the bedside lamp, picked up the gun and held it.  Slowly, she undid the buttons on her dress, and slipped it off over her shoulders, letting it drop onto the floor.  A loud breath escaped through his nostrils as he gazed hungrily upon her in her slip.

"Let down your hair*," he ordered.

She undid the pins that held her hair up and it fell loosely around her shoulders.

"Shake your head*," was his next command, letting out an almost obscene sound at the sight of her doing that.  "Uhh*."

He gestured with the hand that had the gun in it, towards her slip, wordlessly suggesting it come off.  The dark-haired woman didn't move fast enough, and he cocked the gun.  Slipping those straps off she let them slide off her shoulders, then stepped out of the slip, before holding it against her bare chest.  He uncocked the gun and stood up, leaving it on the table beside the chair.  Pulling his suspenders down, he stepped slowly towards her, keeping his blue eyes focused on hers.  Taking the slip in his hands, he tossed it aside, and gently placed his hands on her ribcage before sliding them up to cup her soft, round breasts in the dim light that came through the doorway.

"You know what I wish?*" she asked before he did anything else.

"What?*" he smirked.

"That for once, you'd get here on time*," she answered, emotionally, throwing her arms around him and kissing him, frantically.  "Where the hell have you been, Bucky?"

"I'm sorry, baby," he whispered, as her hands unbuttoned his shirt, almost ripping it off his body.  "We got here as soon as we could."

She stiffened when she heard the word "we."

"Steve?" she asked.  "Where is he?"

"He made himself scarce so we could be alone," answered Bucky, leading her over to the brass bed, covered in the quilt her grandmother made.

Pulling back the quilt he laid her down in the crisp, white bedsheets, unable to take his eyes off her.  He quickly undressed, eager to join Etta in bed after not being with her for so long.

"I missed you," he whispered as he buried his face in her neck, taking in the smell of Ivory soap that she used for bathing.  "You smell so good."

"You don't," she retorted.  "When was the last time you had a bath?"

He shrugged, then raised his head so he could look at her face.  "We haven't exactly been living in the best accommodations, sweetheart.  Haven't eaten since yesterday, either."

"You gave it all away again, didn't you?" asked Etta, looking carefully at him.  "Bucky, you have to keep a little to survive.  What about Steve's medicines?"

"I keep enough for those," he answered.  "But people aren't doin' well and with the war and rationing, it's hard.  I can't keep money when I know there's a family that hasn't eaten in two days because their daddy got hurt on the docks.  It's what happened to my dad, and they lost the house.  I can manage."

She wanted to cry at how this man she loved so much had turned to robbing banks and passing on the money to people in need, hardly keeping any for himself.  A tear must have escaped because Bucky kissed her cheek gently.

"I should be mad at you," she whispered.  "Putting yourself in this kind of trouble for people you barely know."

"But you love me, don't you?" 

"You wish."

His lopsided smile made her heart flip, then he pressed himself into her, making her whimper.

"Say it," he murmured.  "Please."

It took several more attempts of him kissing Etta before she relented.

"I love you," she answered, looking up at him, as she accepted the full weight of his muscular body on hers.

"Damn, I love you," he groaned as he thrust into her. 

For the next half hour, there was no banter or talking about his profession.  He just wanted to touch her and feel her body react to his, bringing both to the brink of bliss before he pulled out early, not wanting to add a pregnancy that would get Etta fired from her job.  Immediately, he helped her come, knowing she needed it.  Taking a handkerchief out of his trouser pockets, he cleaned her up, then slid his arm under her head, kissing her on her temple.  They laid like that for a while, until she sat up a little, to look out the window behind the head of the bed.  With a sigh, she waved at someone outside, then she put her slip on and robe over top of it.

"I'm letting Steve in," she said.  "He looks miserable out there.  I'll start boiling water for you two to have a bath.  Then you change into clean clothes so I can wash those ones.  In the meantime, make yourself useful and start something up for supper.  I have some pork chops that you can fry up and leftover potatoes.  There might still be a good onion as well."

Bucky sat up and grabbed her hand as she came around from her side of the bed, kissing it.

"You're too good for me, Etta."

"I know," she smiled, then she cupped his face with the hand.  "You're too handsome to say no to."

After unlocking her door and leaving it slightly ajar, she looked for her biggest pot and filled it with water, then placed it on the biggest burner of the gas stove in the kitchen, turning it up high.  She heard the door open and went to the hallway.

"Thanks, Etta," said Steve, Bucky's best friend, as he took his wet shoes off and unwound the scarf from around his neck.  "I tried to sit in a diner with a nickel coffee, but they told me unless I ordered some food I couldn't stay.  There was a lineup of soldiers and sailors waiting to get in.  I guess a bunch are shipping out tomorrow."

"Yeah, they're shipping out every day," she answered.  "Go sit by the fireplace in the parlour and warm up.  I've put some water on to boil for you and Bucky to have a bath.  He's going to start supper, if you want to help him.  I'll get the washtub ready."

"Etta?" She stopped to look at the thin, sickly man, his eyes seeming too big for his face.  "Have you seen my ma?"

She thought for a moment, as if she was trying to word things right. 

"Yes.  She's in the parish poor house but she doesn't look good.  I don't think she's going to last much longer, Steve.  She said not to try to see her.  If you do, they'll arrest you."

He swallowed and nodded his head, looking ashamed for a moment.  She squeezed his shoulder then left to pull the washtub out from where it was positioned in the pantry.  A pantry that had barely any food in it.  When she returned to the kitchen, a fully dressed Bucky had the pork chops on and was chopping the onion and potatoes up.  He took over when Etta tried to lift the big pot, carrying it to the pantry and pouring it into the tub.  Then he filled it up again and put it on the burner for the next one.  Four pots would give him enough to have a shallow bath.  Etta could pour a smaller pot of warm water over his head to rinse after he washed his hair.  Then he would help Steve as he was too shy to have Etta see him naked.  Finally, they would start another batch of water boiling to wash their clothes.  Privately, Bucky was afraid they would fall apart in the harsh laundry soap as it had been a while since either he or Steve changed them.  Another pot of boiling water was poured into the washtub before the meal was ready and they sat down together. 

Etta took only a small amount of food, giving Bucky the bigger portion and Steve more than hers.  Both men ate hungrily, and she opened the ice box, finding the cake that one of her students brought her earlier that week, a boiled raisin cake.  She cut a generous piece for each man, then sat back and watched them eat.  Steve couldn't finish his, pushing it towards her, so she obliged him and ate the rest.  Unable to afford coffee, they drank water.  Bucky pushed his chair back and patted his stomach.

"Etta, that was excellent," he said.  "A feast fit for a king."

"You cooked most of it," she replied drily, then stood up to take the dishes to the sink. 

Bucky pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her neck until she laughed.  Winking at Steve, he tickled her a little until she almost screamed and pulled herself away from him.  She went to the bathroom to relieve herself, then stood in front of the sink, looking at herself before she washed her hands in the cold water.  A slight knock got her attention, and she opened the door to Bucky.

"You okay, sweetheart?" he asked.  "Did I hurt you?"

"No, I'm fine," she smiled.  "I had to go, that's all."

"The water's ready for me to have my bath," he said.  "Do you want some hot water in the sink to clean yourself up?"

She nodded, and he kissed her, then left her there, coming back with a smaller pot of hot water from the washtub, pouring it into the sink.  Returning to her bedroom, she got her nightgown and brought it back.  Then she gave herself a sponge bath, cleaning what she could before drying off and putting her nightgown, then her robe on.  Emptying the sink, she rinsed it with cold water.  The sound of Bucky singing That Old Black Magic reached her ears and she came out to the kitchen where Steve was cleaning up, using a smaller pot to heat water for the dishes. 

"Thanks, Steve," she said.

"Least I could do.  We did eat your food."

Bucky was singing again, and they smiled at each other.  When the water in the bigger pot was warm, she took some of it, carrying the water to the pantry where Bucky sat in the bath water, cleaning his armpits. 

"Have you washed your hair yet?" she asked.

"Not yet," he said, squeezing the washcloth over his head, then scrubbing it with the Ivory Soap bar. 

He squeezed his eyes shut as he did then nodded his head.  Etta slowly poured the clean water over him, rinsing off the lather as Bucky ran his hands through his hair.  When the last of the water was poured, he wiped his face with his hands, then gingerly opened his eyes before smiling at her.

"Hi darling.  I smell better now."

She looked at the dirty water in the tub and shook her head at how filthy it was. 

"Try not to spill any on the floor when you hook up the hose to drain it.  Make sure you rinse it before putting clean water in."

He saluted and she returned to the kitchen to top up the water that was taken from the big pot.  Steve was drying the dishes and putting them into the cupboard, standing on his tiptoes to reach the one shelf.  Bucky came out wrapped in a towel and kissed Etta on his way to the bedroom, to change into clean clothes that they left with her.  He brought Steve's clean clothes and a towel with him, placing them in the pantry room.  As they waited for the water to boil in the big pot, he glanced at Etta's mail and flipped through the envelopes, frowning, as he opened them.

"Sweetheart, this one is marked final notice," he said, holding up a bill from the electrical company. 

"They raised the rates," she replied.  "I managed at the old rates, but I fell behind with the new ones.  I figured if I could push it towards summer before they turn off the electricity I can manage with candles for a while.  I can save up enough to pay the difference."

"What about the cancellation fees and the hookup fees?" he asked, visibly upset.  "They're nickel and diming people into losing their power now.  Where does it stop?"

"Don't yell at me," she answered.  "It's been hard managing.  I've been giving your ma money to tide them over.  My own mother isn't doing well.  I'm doing the best I can."

"Sweetheart, I'm not angry at you," he said soothingly, wrapping his arms around her, as Steve left to give them privacy.  "I'm just angry that people are hurting, and they keep adding costs onto everything.  What will they do when everyone is either homeless or in the poor house?  It can't go on like this.  Why isn't the government helping people more instead of putting us into a war across the ocean?"

"You know why," she stated.  "They have to stop Hitler, Bucky.  If they don't, he'll be here next."

"I know," he answered, shaking his head.  "It just gets to me."

The water on the stove was almost boiling and Bucky carried it to the washtub, then set another pot of water to boil.  Nothing more was said about the bills but when Etta went into the bedroom, he pulled Steve aside.

"We need to hit another bank," he said.  "She's stretched too thin, and I don't want her to lose her flat because she's been helping my family while I haven't been around.  I wish I knew about this sooner."

"She's a good woman," replied Steve.  "You should marry her."

"I plan to."  The dark-haired man ran his hand through his thick hair.  "One more bank job to help her and our families then that's it.  I'll enlist in the army.  It pays well and should be enough to help her and my parents out.  They can afford a three-bedroom apartment with steam heat and hot water on army pay, and live together.  With my pay and hers they'll do alright.  Maybe you can get on at a grocer's and take over this place.  You might be able to bring your ma to live with you."

"Sounds like a plan."  Steve looked to the bedroom.  "You should go to her.  I'll call you when the water is hot."

Bucky entered the bedroom to find Etta lying on top of the bed.  By the quiet sniffles he heard she was crying.  Sliding next to her, he rubbed her arm and kissed her shoulder. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered.  "I should have realized you've been taking care of our folks while we've been away.  You're a good woman Etta and I'm a better man because of you."

She rolled towards him, wiping her eyes.

"It's hard managing three sets of parents," she murmured.  "They worry about you."

"I know."  He cleared his throat.  "I'm going to enlist in the army, then I want us to get married.  With my army pay and your teacher pay, you can afford a better apartment; one big enough for you and my parents and sister.  Steve will try to get a job as more fellas are getting shipped out.  He can take over this flat and maybe bring his ma to live with him."

"Don't go getting all romantic on me, Barnes," grinned Etta, then her face became serious.  "You'd do that?"

He nodded.  "For you, anything.  I'll go tomorrow and look into it.  Will you marry me?"

"Yes, I will."  He kissed her, drawing her close into his body, inhaling the scent of Ivory Soap on both of them, thinking he never smelled anything so good as that.

Steve called from the kitchen that the water was hot enough and he left her in the bed, going out to put it in the washtub.  One more pot should do it, since Steve was a smaller guy, and he would need some cold water in there because of his health.  A little while later as Bucky sat reading the paper while Steve bathed, he thought about his decision, knowing it was the right one.  All they needed now was the right bank for this last robbery.  With enough money to get a good apartment for everyone, he'd be ready to serve his country.  What could go wrong?

Six months later

It was warm at the docks, as Bucky and Etta were saying their goodbyes.  So much had changed since he decided on that one last bank job.  When he and Steve didn't even get the chance to pull their guns out, he knew something was wrong.  It was like the police already knew their plans as they streamed out of the bank's offices with their guns drawn and trained on the pair.  Ordered to surrender or be shot down, both men complied.  After they were cuffed and placed into the paddy wagon, they weren't even taken to the precinct.  Instead, they were taken to Fort Hamilton, the army base at the south end of Brooklyn.  There, they joined five other men in the stockade, until a man in an army uniform introduced himself and his companions when they entered the room, Colonel Phillips, a Dr. Erskine, and a British woman, Agent Carter with the Strategic Scientific Reserve, or SSR.

As she read the name and offence committed by each man in that cell from a file folder she carried in her hands, Bucky realized that they had been under surveillance for a long time.  Each man, Dugan, Dernier, Falsworth, Jones, and Morita, had skills that the SSR wanted to utilize.  When she got to Bucky, the Colonel looked him up and down.

"Well, he looks fit at least.  What skills does he bring to this unit?"

The woman smiled.  "He regularly wins prizes at the shooting galleries at Coney Island and Rockaway Beach.  Those rifles are rigged but he manages to quickly assess how they have been adjusted and can instantly change his aim.  I thought he could be the marksman for the group."

How did they know he always cleaned up at those shooting galleries?  How long had they been watching him?  The Colonel grunted then moved on to look at Steve.

"How old are you son?"

"23," he answered.  "What do you want of us?"

"I chose young Steven," said Dr. Erskine, his thick German accent surprising all of them.  "He is 4F, but that hasn't stopped him from trying to enlist five times at five different recruiting stations under five different names."

Steve felt his cheeks go hot, as Bucky glared at him.  The younger man's desire to enlist had been a source of contention between the two men for some time.  Erskine continued.

"I think he is the perfect subject for the project.  He's not already a killer; the fact the guns these two used were unloaded and they've never hurt anyone during their robberies proves it.  He tries to help people, as shown by them sharing the stolen money with people in dire need, and he has an artistic soul.  All of them an indication of a good man, limited only by his physical disabilities."

The Colonel grunted then nodded his head and stood tall in front of the cell. 

"You all have a chance to serve your countries, gentlemen, and I do mean your country for I know two of you are not citizens here.  You will be part of a special commando unit in the Strategic Scientific Reserve.  You're going to undergo six months of training, then we're going to send you on a special mission to fight a special type of Nazi."

"What if we say no?" asked Bucky.

"Then you go back to the police and wend your way through the criminal justice system.  In your case, even though your guns were unloaded, it's still considered armed robbery.  With the number of successful heists you pulled off, you're looking at life imprisonment."

The seven men looked at each other then all verbally agreed to join the special unit.  They really didn't have much choice.

In the six months since then much had changed for all of them as they underwent a gruelling training regimen that turned them all into exceptional soldiers.  Except Steve, who only trained with them sometimes and even then wasn't expected to achieve what they did physically.  He was undergoing some different training that he was sworn to secrecy about, even from the others, admitting it was a special project that was expected to change the shape of warfare forever.  While the others were being sent to Europe to be imbedded with a regiment, Steve would be staying behind for a time before he joined them.  Today was the day that Bucky and the others were shipping out.

Allowed to marry Etta on one of his leaves, Bucky learned on his honeymoon that his father got a desk job at the shipyards, and his family were moved to a newer three-bedroom apartment with steam heat and running hot water, with a real bathroom.  Steve's ma was moved to a nice sanitarium to live out her final days in a place that was bright and warm.  Etta and Bucky were offered a newer two-bedroom apartment in a nice area of Brooklyn, with all the amenities.  During their honeymoon they rarely stepped foot out of that apartment. 

He smiled at the memory of that week, then looked at his wife again, as they stood outside the gate where thousands of soldiers had lined up to board a former cruise ship that would take them to England.  Bucky felt a pang in his heart at leaving her behind.

"I'll miss you," he murmured, holding her close enough to place his lips near her ear.  "I'll write you as much as I can."

Etta smiled at him, even though inside her fears were clawing at her.  "I'll miss you too and I'll write you twice as much.  Promise me you'll be careful."

"I promise," he answered.  "When I get back, we'll start a family."

Their kiss was long, tender, and noticed by others, who guessed they were newlyweds.  Then Bucky picked up his duffel bag and checked in at the gate.  He only went a short way when Etta called out to him.

"Hey Sergeant!"  He turned back to look at her.  "Do your duty, soldier."

"Yes ma'am!"

He saluted then joined the line, watched by Etta until she lost sight of him in that sea of green.  She returned to her comfortable apartment, wondering what type of work Bucky had to do for them to warrant this kind of luxury.  What had he promised them so that she and his family were taken care of so well?

🪖 🚢

Two weeks later, she received a visitor at her apartment.  A strong knock drew her out of the kitchen, and she opened the door to a tall, blond, muscular man in an army uniform, who smiled at her as if they knew each other.  It took her a moment to realize it was Steve and she fainted.  When she came to, she was on the couch in her living room, with a cold, damp washcloth on her forehead.  Taking it off, she sat up to face the man, who sat in the armchair across from the couch.

"Steve?"

"Yeah, it's me," he replied.  "Before you ask, I can't tell you how I look this way.  It's a national secret."

"Okay," she breathed.  "Will you look like this forever?"

He smiled and nodded.  "It's permanent."  His face became serious.  "I'm here on official business.  Normally, the army sends out a telegram."  Immediately, Etta could hear her heartbeat in her ears as she thought of all those fears about Bucky.  "I found out this morning and received permission to give you the news directly.  I already saw his parents.  Bucky's MIA.  In fact, the whole unit is.  They were imbedded with the 107th regiment and were sent with a couple of companies on a mission.  200 men left, less than 50 returned."

"No, he just got there.  Why would they send them out so soon?"

"That's just the way it was."  He looked at his hands.  "Did Bucky ever tell you about the commando unit and who they were training to fight?" She shook her head.  "It's a special division of Nazis called HYDRA.  They're worse than the SS and are up to some scary things.  It's likely they were captured by this division.  They're no longer where the battle was and quite frankly, they're having trouble finding where the prisoners have been taken.  I'm going over by aircraft tomorrow with our command team to take over the search for them.  I promise that I'll do all I can to find Bucky.  With my rank, I can send my own telegrams, and I'll send one to you and to Bucky's parents as soon as I can."

"Your rank?" She looked at him, puzzled.  Just a few weeks ago he was a small, sickly man who had health issues that could kill him at any moment.  "What are you?"

"A captain, but not just any captain.  I can't tell you anymore than that.  Just know, that I can do things other men can't."  He stood up.  "I better go now.  I still need my rest, just like any other guy."

She walked him to the door and on impulse, hugged him, surprised to find that he was very warm; the heat from his body radiating through his uniform.  It was all so strange and seemed to be happening so fast.

For the next month, Etta tried to keep to a routine.  With it being summer, she was off work, but she regularly visited Sarah Rogers at the sanitarium, and her in-laws, the Barnes at their apartment.  She walked, read the newspapers voraciously for any word of the war, and slept poorly each night, consumed with dreams of Bucky in pain.  Then one day, a knock at the door brought her a telegram and she opened it to read that Bucky, and the special unit he was in, had been rescued.  There were no other details other than it would all be in the news within a day or so.  That was when she found out that Steve Rogers was Captain America, the allies first super soldier, the result of a scientific experiment that gifted him with perfect health, great strength, and incredible stamina to fight against the Nazis.  Single-handedly, he broke into a secret base, released the prisoners, including his own captured unit, then together destroyed the base, dealing a significant blow against the enemy.  It was heady stuff, and the public ate it up.  Just as they ate up the future exploits of Captain America and the Howling Commandos, the name given to that special unit.  Over the next year much was written about them, and they were on the newsreels all the time. 

Etta didn't care much for all that, as it just reinforced her fears for Bucky's safety.  Instead, she lived for his letters, filled with love for her.  She wrote back just as much; filling her letters with dried flowers from the window boxes of their apartment, drops of her perfume, and even small slivers of Ivory Soap that she shaved off and placed in the envelope, hoping that he would notice the smell and think of them, when he was still on the run. 

Her fears slowly subsided until just after Christmas 1944, when she woke up screaming one morning from a dream that seemed all too real: a dream of Bucky falling.  The next morning when she received Steve's telegram, she thought she would die.  At Bucky's funeral with an empty coffin, she and his mother numbly received the folded flag, neither of them in a state to feel anything else.  Just a few weeks later, when the newspapers reported the death of Captain America, she thought she had died and gone to hell.  At his funeral, she received the flag on behalf of his mother, who was too ill to attend.  After giving it to her in the sanitarium she wasn't surprised when Sarah Rogers died a day later, clutching the flag that represented her only child.  It was all too much for the young woman and she took a leave of absence from her teaching job, sitting alone in her apartment, not eating or drinking; not wanting to live in a world without Bucky.

⏳ ⌛️

"Etta," said a voice, a familiar voice but one that shouldn't even exist anymore. 

She opened her eyes and screamed, before a hand was placed gently on her mouth, then removed.

"Steve?"

He was older, and wearing a blue suit of some kind, like the one he wore as Captain America, but it was different. 

"Yeah, it's me.  Get dressed.  We don't have much time."

"You're dead."

"No, it was thought I was but it's too hard to explain and will take too long.  Do you trust me?"  She nodded.  "Just get dressed.  Wear trousers. I'll wait in the living room."

Quickly, she rose and put some clothes on, then brushed her hair and came out to see him standing in front of the window.  He turned around quickly and smiled at her, then took something out of his pocket.

"Put this on."  He slipped a strange device on her hand, then took her other hand in his.  "Ready?"

"Wait, where are you taking me?"

"To Bucky," he smiled, then pressed a button on the device.

She held her breath as some sort of suit grew out of the device, encasing her body so quickly that she couldn't believe it.  Then there was a flash, darkness, then another flash and the suit disappeared as quickly as it was created.  She was outside, amongst a group of trees, near a lake.  A man with long hair and a beard turned swiftly around, his eyes exactly like Bucky's.

"Etta," he whispered, then enclosed her in a noticeably warm hug, his face pressed into her hair.  "It worked."

She pulled away and looked at this man with Bucky's eyes and voice. 

"I don't understand," she stammered.  "You died.  Both of you died.  You left me alone but you're here, wherever this is and you're alive.  Is this heaven?"

"Upstate New York," said another voice and she looked towards it only to be startled by the appearance of a green skinned giant wearing glasses.  "It's okay.  I won't hurt you.  I'm Bruce and you're very much in upstate New York.  It's 2023 and you've come through time."

It was all too much for Etta and for the second time in her life, she fainted, aware only of someone saying to catch her before she fell.  When she woke up, it was on a blanket, next to the lake she remembered seeing on her arrival.  The sun was peeking through the trees with a slight breeze making the remaining gold and orange leaves rustle.  It was autumn, she realized.  It had been winter in New York when Steve appeared in the apartment.  Three men sat nearby, talking quietly, then one turned around.

"Your wife is awake, Bucky," he said, standing up and approaching her.  "Hi, I'm Sam.  I’m a friend of Steve and Bucky.  How do you feel?"

"Confused," she admitted.  "What the green man said about it being 2023.  Is that true?"

"Yeah," he smiled.  "Kind of overwhelming, isn't it?  These two didn't help matters but Steve really didn't have the time to explain.  Bucky should have at least cut his hair and shaved for you so that he was more of a familiar face."  His face grew serious, and he glanced back at where Steve and Bucky stood, giving her some space.  "Steve had to go back in time to fulfill a promise made.  Bucky asked if someone could be brought forward.  He's been through a lot and well, he thought if you were here with him, it would make it easier for him to adjust.  It won't be easy for you as there's almost 80 years of life for you to catch up on but together, I think you can do it, and you won't be alone.  There's a few of us here that will help you both." 

Acknowledging his words, Etta began to stand, accepting Sam's help up, then he walked away, followed by Steve, leaving her and Bucky alone.  She studied her husband’s face, seeing lines on it that hadn't been there before.  He wore black, which he never wore before and he had gloves on, which was strange because it wasn't cold. 

"Come, sit," he said, gesturing to a bench that overlooked the lake.  "There's so much to tell you."

"Start with why you aren't dead." 

He smiled.  Etta always was blunt.  It was one of the things he missed about her.

"Everyone thought I was, as I fell a long way.  But they didn't know that when I was a prisoner of HYDRA for that month when I was MIA that they did something to me that changed me.  They were trying to turn me into a super soldier like Steve.  I survived the fall, but HYDRA found me and took me back to their lab to finish the job.  They didn't just turn me into a super soldier, they erased Bucky Barnes, and turned me into a killer, a weapon to do their bidding.  It took them years because I fought them as hard as I could but, in the end, they made me into someone called the Winter Soldier.  I killed many people for them, Etta.  They kept me alive, freezing me then unfreezing when they wanted me to kill.  It's why I haven't aged much."

She gazed steadily at him, seeing the regret that was engraved on his face and in his eyes.  Yes, he had been a killer, but he wasn't anymore.  Somehow, he got away. 

"Why is Steve still alive?"

"He didn't die either, but no one knew that.  He deliberately crashed that plane full of bombs in the Arctic then he was frozen in the ice but the serum he got that changed him into a super soldier kept him alive, just enough that when he was found in 2011, they were able to thaw him, and he woke up.  He became Captain America in the 21st century and fought against HYDRA again, as they never really went away because what I did helped them to become dangerous again."

Etta didn't have to say it, but she did, wanting a straight answer. She was always smart at reading between the lines. It was something Bucky loved about her.

"They sent you after him, didn't they?"

Bucky nodded.  "I was sent to kill him and that's when he found out I was still alive.  He called me by my name and there wasn't a big flash of understanding or anything like that but more like an unraveling of all that they did to me.  It took some time, and I was sent to kill him again and I almost did.  I swear, I wanted to bash his face in and shut him up because he kept calling me Bucky.  Then I saw him in my mind, as he was then.  The little guy, who was always sick, his face bloody from being beaten up, and me coming to help him.  That was the beginning, and I didn't kill him.  He and his new team were able to stop HYDRA, and I went underground until he found me again and we ended up in the biggest fight of our life against someone more dangerous than HYDRA had ever been.  They needed time travel to do it and when some things had to go back to their time, I asked about bringing you forward."

She was full of questions and rattled them off one after another.

"Why not your parents or Rebecca?  Why me?  I'm not sure I can live in a future where everything is so strange.  I mean a real green giant and time travel.  What else has changed in all those years?  If I don't fit in, can I go back?"

"It was better my parents didn't find out what I became.  Rebecca's still alive and I couldn't bring her younger version forward.  It had to be you.  You're my wife."  He swallowed and his eyes became glassy as he looked out over the lake.  When he spoke again, his voice was wavering.  "You died, Etta.  Steve found your grave; you were buried next to my empty coffin.  Your date of death was February 5, 1945.  He looked up in the newspapers how you died ... you killed yourself."  The tears began falling down his cheek.  "I can't send you back because I won't watch you die, Etta.  Please, stay here in the future with me.  Don't make me face life without you, not when we can be together again."

He reached into his pocket for a handkerchief, wiping his eyes.  Noticing the gloves on his hands again, Etta took his one hand in hers. 

"Why are you wearing gloves on a warm day?  What aren't you telling me?"

He swallowed noticeably again, then took the glove off his right hand.  It looked normal and she caressed it, then interlaced her fingers with his.  With her right hand she reached for his left and tugged on the glove.  When it came off a metal hand was revealed, black with gold markings.  She looked up at him for an explanation.

"I lost my arm in the fall and HYDRA gave me a new one, a monstrous thing that was used to deliver death and destruction.  It was eventually destroyed and a kind king in a country with incredible technology designed a new one.  It's still metal but I can feel with it, and it's meant to be as close to a real arm as possible.  It wasn't designed to hurt or kill.  I'll show you all of it when we're alone, but it is different and may take some getting used to.  It's why I can't go back."

They sat without talking for some time, but she didn't pull her hand out of his. 

"What do they do for work in the 21st century?"

"A lot of the same.  I'll be part of Steve's team, called the Avengers.  They kind of protect the whole world from evil."

"No more bank robberies?"

Bucky smirked.  "No more bank robberies."

"I should still be mad at you," she whispered.  "Putting yourself in this kind of trouble for people you barely know."

"But you love me, don't you?" 

"You wish."

His lopsided smile made her heart flip like it always did, then he pressed his lips onto hers, making her whimper.

"Say it," he murmured.  "Please."

It took several more attempts of him kissing Etta before she relented.

"I love you," she answered.  "I'll stay."

"I love you, too," he cried, kissing her all over her face before he grasped it in his hands.  "We'll have a nice place to live, and we can start a family, if you want.  I know I'm older now but inside I'm still the young man you married at City Hall."  His eyes searched her face.  "We just have to find Steve a girlfriend."

"I heard that," said Steve, still talking to Sam a fair distance away.  "I can find my own girl."

"Yeah, you've been in this century how long and you're still single," answered Bucky, standing up and pulling Etta with him.  "Face it, you need our help."

As the two men bantered back and forth, Etta made eye contact with Sam, who grinned at her.  Apparently, Steve was just as hopeless with romance now, as he had been in the 1940s.  She wasn't sure how well she would adjust but having her husband and his best friend back in her life was better than good.  It just felt right, as if it were how it always was and would always be.

One Shots Masterlist

Please support the author by reblogging.

[archivomeow]

just saw a yelena x bucky (yucky) ship post with 56k likes, fuck yall.

[whitetrashjj]

Buck just bringing Curt an Apple so casually before he’d even gotten anything to eat for himself.