#it gave us some of the most emotional moments between steve and bucky and sharon and sam

[magnetothemagnificent]

2023 objectively sucked but it did give us some of the best Captain America comic characterizations so.....you win some you lose some

[jbbarnesnnoble]

Kiss Goodbye

Summary:  Bucky is a detective with the 99th Precinct. A single moment changes your life forever, and you’re faced with saying goodbye

Features/Warnings: Angst; mentions of pregnancy, Major Character Death

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader

Notes: I cried writing this. That should be it’s own warning. 

Detective!Bucky AU; Brooklyn 99 Crossover

Word Count: 4657

You were napping, completely unaware of the news that was coming. An argument had broken out at the 99th Precinct over what to do, the squad torn over calling you or going to tell you in person. They were all emotional, all dealing with what had happened that afternoon in their own ways. In the end, Captain Holt headed to your home, the one that you had shared with Bucky since you’d gotten married four years prior. Holt had called in a favor from a neighboring precinct. Captain Steve Rogers was joining him on the solemn journey to the Barnes home. 

Steve and Bucky had been best friends since childhood. They went through the police academy together. Bucky had no interest in being a superior officer. He was content with his job as a detective in the 99th precinct. He had worked in Steve’s precinct until two years prior, being transferred to the 99 once Amy Santiago had become a sergeant. 

You worked as an EMT, enjoying a day off with your daughter. You woke up when your phone went off. You felt a pang of anxiety when you saw Steve’s name. He was working. He and Bucky both worked the day shift. You had been taking a nap while your daughter took hers. Your last shift had been exhausting and the three year old had gotten sick the previous evening with a stomach bug. 

“Hello?” you asked.

“Hey...I’m here, could you come let me in?” he asked. 

“Uh...sure?” you said, confused. Steve had a key. He’d always had a key. Something wasn’t right and you knew it. You checked on your daughter before heading down the stairs to the front door. When you opened it to see Captain Holt standing with Steve, you knew.

“Won’t you come in?” you asked, allowing both men entry. You weren’t surprised Holt had called in Steve. Not when it came to Bucky, when it came to you. 

“Steve?” you asked when they sat down.

“Bucky was shot. We came to get you, bring you to the hospital. They were rushing him to surgery as soon as he was brought in. Peralta told the ER doctors they had telling you covered. Peggy’s on her way to babysit and I’m driving you to the hospital. Captain Holt will stay and wait for Peggy to get here,” Steve explained. Your mind was racing. This couldn’t be real. Not Bucky. Not your Bucky. 

You felt numb as Steve rushed you to the hospital. It wasn’t long before Amy showed up with Rosa and Gina. You had never seen Rosa Diaz shaken. Steve hadn’t told you much, only that Rosa and Bucky had gone to ask a witness some questions and that Bucky had been shot. None of you spoke as you sat waiting. Steve had called Sam. You knew Sam would start passing the news along if Peggy hadn’t already. It was a system you had hoped would never need to be used. 

Four hours had passed before you were allowed to see him. Four painful hours filled with anxiety. He was in the ICU in critical condition. You sat by his bedside, holding his hand, waiting for the doctor to come in. Bucky’s father had passed the previous year, leaving his mother, his sister, and his grandparents who lived in Jersey. His mother had been on a trip to Florida with friends and was rushing to get back home. Sam had gone to get Bucky’s grandparents to bring them up to the city. Rebecca had arrived at the hospital shortly after you had, and the two of you sat by his bedside, clinging to the hope that he would be okay. Rebecca had married Sam the previous year. You remembered a time when Sam and Bucky could barely be in the same room without arguing. Years had passed since then, and Bucky had gladly stood up at their wedding as one of Sam’s groomsmen. 

You weren’t surprised when it was Bruce who walked in. Dr. Bruce Banner was someone you’d known a long time. It came with the territory of your jobs. He was also the husband of Sharon Carter, who had become a dear friend and who was a cousin of Steve’s wife, Peggy. 

“I’m sorry,” Bruce said.

“You’re sorry?” you asked, confused by what he was apologizing for. As he explained, you and Rebecca clung to each other tightly. You were going to have to make some difficult decisions, decisions you didn’t want to make. 

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Saying goodbye was never easy. You laughed to yourself that maybe good was only in there to soften the blow. Goodbye held permanence to you. You never cared for the word. Goodbye was an ending. Goodbye was finality. Goodbye meant it was over, really over. There was no coming back from this goodbye. There was no happy ending, no moment where Bucky would walk through the door again yelling “I’m home”. No more sounds of little feet charging down the hallway to greet him, with you close behind. 

“I don’t know if I can do this without you, Buck. I don’t want to,” you whispered, squeezing his hand. You had made the most difficult decision of your life. You knew well enough to know holding on was only putting off the inevitable, prolonging the pain you knew would linger. It didn’t make it easier. You blinked as tears fell. You had been torn on bringing your daughter. You and Bucky had had that discussion one night, when you had been pregnant with her. 

You and Bucky laid in bed, his hand laying on your bump as the baby kicked, a soft smile on his face. The eleven o’clock news was on the television. Another officer had been killed in the line of duty. Bucky’s smile dropped. He hadn’t known her, not really. But he knew of her. Sergeant Hope Van Dyne had a husband, a step-daughter, and a two year old daughter. They had met in passing before, Scott Lang was a childhood friend of Steve and Bucky’s. Keeping in touch had been made difficult when Scott had moved out west, returning to the city when his wife landed a job with the NYPD. 

“Babe?” you asked when you noticed the sudden change in Bucky’s demeanor. 

“Scotty called me yesterday. Asked what he should do. Cassie wanted to see Hope. She’s old enough that he brought her down to the hospital, but their little one. He refused to bring her, didn’t want to traumatize the kid, seeing her mom like that at such a young age. At least Cassie’s at an age where she can communicate, you know? Addie’s not,” Bucky said. He was starting to ramble. You took his hand in yours, rubbing your thumb in a circle, a soothing gesture.

“I’m making lasagna to bring over. Though, it wouldn’t surprise me if they’ve got more than enough food,” you said. He sighed, running his free hand through his hair. 

“If I’m ever in that position, promise me you won’t bring her. Not unless she’s old enough to ask. Not unless she’s old enough to understand,” he said.

“James,” you said, a frown appearing on your face. You rarely called him by his first name. It was reserved for the bedroom, for intimate moments between the two of you, moments of exasperation, and serious conversations. 

“Please. Promise me. I don’t want our daughter’s last memory of me to be like that. It’s bad enough that yours would be. I don’t plan on getting hurt like that, but...damn it I’m scared. It was a routine stop. And now she’s dead and her...just promise me,” he said cutting himself off. You turned toward him, moving your hand to cup his cheek.

“I promise you, James Buchanan Barnes. I will always protect our daughter and any other children we have,” you said. He pulled you into a kiss, and the conversation drifted into a forgotten memory.

“Mrs. Barnes?” a nurse asked. You looked up. It was Sharon. 

“Sharon, please,” you said, your voice flat. She gave you a sad smile, her own eyes watering. 

“Sorry. I...I’m sorry. This is never easy,” she told you. You nodded. You understood. Calling you Mrs. Barnes helped her remove herself from the situation, away from the reality. 

“I came to check on you. Whenever you're ready,” she said, taking your hand in hers and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“What if I’m never ready? How can you ever be ready for something like this?” you asked her. 

“You can’t be. But you have to be. Is she coming?” Sharon asked. You shook your head.

“Bucky and I agreed if this kind of thing ever happened, the only way she’d be here is if she was old enough to understand. Maybe she’ll resent me for it one day, but...I can’t bring myself to bring her here. She’s been asking about him. Shar, how do I tell my three year old daughter that her daddy isn’t coming home?” you asked, breaking down. She pulled you into a hug, letting you cry into her shoulder as she rubbed circles on your back. 

“How do I tell her?” you asked again, your voice barely more than a whisper as you sobbed. 

“You’ll find a way. You don’t have to do this alone,” she said, her own voice cracking. You were waiting on the others. Bucky’s mother, grandparents, and sister soon arrived with Sam, Steve, and Peggy. Natasha and Clint were the last ones to arrive. You weren’t sure if Jake or Rosa were going to show up. You had asked them to come. You knew they were both close to him. Hell, you were close with them and Rosa Diaz was a difficult person to get close to. 

Peter Parker had volunteered to watch your daughter that day. He was often around the station getting volunteer hours. It had turned into the kid from Queens babysitting your daughter when you needed someone to watch her. You sent him a quick text to check in on how things were, and you weren’t surprised when you got a near immediate response. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Steve said as he pulled you into a hug. You knew it wasn’t an instant thing as they started taking him off life support. You had all been sent out of the room when they started switching off machines and removing him from the very things keeping him alive. When you were brought back in, you sat by his side, his hand in yours. You excused yourself for a moment, needing a second to breathe. 

It wasn’t much later that they called his time of death. If you had been sobbing before, it couldn’t compare to the sound of your heartbreaking as his mother held you tight. 

It was late when you got home. Peter was asleep on the couch. You sent his aunt a text, saying he could stay the night since you didn’t want to wake him. It was a Friday and you knew the kid had been overworking himself lately with his school work. 

You checked on your daughter, tip-toeing into her room and kneeling beside her bed, leaning to give her a kiss on her forehead. You wanted to cry, but found you had no tears left. The morning would bring a new difficulty. Explaining to your daughter that her father wasn’t coming home.

You stepped into your bedroom, the first time since you’d gotten the news. You had been staying with Steve and Peggy, your daughter excited to have been spending time with her aunt and uncle. Bucky’s favorite t-shirt still lay flung on the bed. It was an old Vans Warped Tour shirt from 2009. One of your long standing traditions. You both loved and hated that shirt. It was worn at this point, from over a decade of wear and tear. But you loved the memories. You pulled it over your head, taking in the scent that was distinctly Bucky, before pulling on pajama bottoms and crawling into bed, holding his pillow close. 

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You were restless through the night. You were up by seven and found yourself making pancakes. Peter was still asleep on the couch. You checked on him while the first pancakes started to cook. You were never as good as Bucky when it came to pancakes. You always insisted he was a magician. 

When the pancakes were done, along with some bacon and sausage, you went to wake your daughter. The smell of pancakes excited her. It broke your heart and you kicked yourself for choosing the food. 

“Where is daddy?” she asked, confusion laced in her voice. Your lower lip wobbled a bit as you did your best to contain your emotions.

“We’ll talk about that after breakfast. Now, mama made some pancakes. I know I’m not as good as the Pancake Wizard, but I’m sure you’ll like them,” you said as you picked her up. She giggled as you lifted her high in the air. You knew Winnie and Rebecca would be coming over after breakfast. 

Peter offered to do the dishes before he headed home, something you weren’t about to argue with him about. You sat your daughter down in the living room. You still weren’t sure how you were going to tell her. She understood her father had been hurt, that he had been in the hospital. But this was uncharted territory. She tilted her head to the side as she looked at you. 

“Why are you sad mama?” she asked. 

“Because...because daddy isn’t coming home,” you said, choosing your words carefully. 

“Where he go?” she asked you. You swallowed, trying to keep your tears at bay.

“He died, sweetheart,” you said, ripping the bandaid off. Her brows furrowed as she tried to think about what that meant.

“What’s that?” she asked. It was difficult finding the words, but eventually you did. By then, Bucky’s family had arrived, and so had your parents. Winnifred Barnes took charge of helping you explain it to your daughter. You had expected the tears and you held your daughter close as she cried. You thought your heart couldn’t break anymore than it already had until you heard that sound. 

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It was sunny the day of the funeral. It hurt a little more. Wasn’t it supposed to be raining? Wasn’t the weather supposed to reflect your heartbreak, the fact that he wasn’t going to walk back through the door? 

You had met Bucky in high school when you’d gone to Brooklyn to hang out with Natasha after her family had moved up to the city to be closer to her grandmother, who refused to leave the city. Services were set to be in the city, but he was being buried in Jersey, the same place his father was buried. His grandparents had lived not far from your small hometown. His parents had moved to the city before he was born. You remembered that day so vividly. 

You and Natasha were walking down the street when someone knocked into you and you fell. Natasha had whipped around.

“Watch it Rogers,” she snapped. 

“Sorry! I’m running late! If I’m late again Mr. Weston is gonna fire me,” he said before running off. A boy with dark brown hair helped you to your feel.

“Sorry about him. He really needs the job. I’ve never seen you around before,” the boy said.

“I’m friends with Nat,” you said. 

“Well, friend of Nat, do you have a name or am I just going to have to call you beautiful girl?” he asked. You felt your face heat up at the comment. You saw Natasha roll her eyes before you gave the boy your name. He introduced himself. James ‘Please call me Bucky’ Barnes. You swore you fell for him in that moment. 

“I’d ask if you were ready, but I don’t think you ever will be,” Natasha said from the doorway. You looked at her with watery eyes.

“I don’t want to go,” you told her, your voice soft. She entered the room, placing a hand on your shoulder, gently turning you from the window.

“But you have to. I’ll be there. Steve will be there. You’re not alone. You are never alone,” she said, pulling you into a hug. You broke in that moment. You let out a sob that bordered on a scream as she held you tight. 

You saw the line of news reporters outside. You hated it. Vultures capitalizing on your grief. You had put your foot down and told Holt you wanted no news media at the funeral. They had no right. You always hated when they would show funerals of fallen police and firefighters on the television, as if their families lost the right to grieve privately because of their loved one’s occupation. 

“I don’t know how I’m going to get through this,” you admitted when your sobbing calmed. 

“You’re not alone. We’re here every step,” she said. You nodded. Heading to where the services were being held, officers from all over lined the streets, along with other first responders. You felt numb. You were half focused until Steve stood to speak. 

“Detective James Barnes was more than an officer. He was a loving son, grandson, brother, husband, and father. Bucky is...was my best friend. I don’t know life without him. Many of us here don’t know or remember life without him. Some people would describe him as quiet, moody, and hard to talk to. But once you got to know him? You would learn that he was a quiet comedian. He loved to go fishing and had a sweet tooth that drove his wife mad because there was never anything too sweet for him. When we were in high school, she made him a cake that had more sugar in a single bite than could have been considered healthy to prove a point. Bucky ate the whole thing,” Steve said. You laughed a little at the memory. 

He told a couple of other stories, like how worried Bucky was when your daughter was born and how he once rescued your parents’ cat from a neighbor’s tree using nothing but some rope and a laundry basket. He talked about the days where Bucky would get him out of trouble when he’d get into fights. It was the first time you had smiled in days. 

Your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest as silence fell over those gathered once more. You knew what was coming. You’d heard it before. End of watch, last call, the final farewell to the fallen. A call that would never be answered. No one ever thought it would be them sitting on the hard chair, listening as their loved one’s badge number was read out with the words “end of watch”. 

You weren’t surprised Jake was speaking in place of Captain Holt. It made sense. Jake was one of Bucky’s closest friends at the 99, even if they didn’t always see eye to eye. 

“Barnes was...when he first started at the 99, we hated each other. This stupid, sexy, blue eyed and broody man comes into the precinct and sits down at Amy’s old desk. Like, who did this jerk think he was? But he soon became one of my closest friends. I’ve been struggling to find the words to say what I need to say. The precinct won’t be the same without him. He was the reigning Halloween Heist champion. I still don’t know how he pulled it off with just a shoelace and some glitter,” Jake said. You chuckled at that. Your heart ached as you listened to him speak. You hadn’t had an opportunity to talk to him or Rosa. They both seemed to be avoiding you. Sam told you to give it some time. You knew he was right, but you were still worried about them both, even in your own grief. Rosa had been there and you couldn’t shake the feeling that she felt guilty. 

The drive from the city to Jersey saw streets lined with more people, a solemn procession down the Jersey Turnpike to the shore. As you went through your hometown, two ladder trucks sat with their ladders raised facing each other. You had roots in a close knit community. You and Bucky may have lived in Brooklyn, but everyone knew the two of you. Everyone knew his grandparents, knew his parents, knew his sister. 

The graveside service was a blur, all the while lost in your thoughts and your tears, the tears you feared would never stop falling. Your daughter climbed in your lap.

“Ok mama, no cry,” the toddler babbled, placing her hand on your cheek. She was still so young, at an age where she wouldn’t remember him, wouldn’t remember Saturday morning pancakes, the daddy-daughter days where Bucky would take her to the park, to Build-a-Bear, even though you insisted she was still too young to fully appreciate it, the days he’d do her hair for her because no one could say no to those eyes and the look she’d give you. Bucky wasn’t the greatest at styling hair, but your daughter never cared much about that. She loved it because her daddy did it. 

The cemetery started clearing out, leaving you with your friends, your family. You stood to place your flower on the casket, your daughter following suit. Slowly, the others started leaving, until it was you and Rosa. Rebecca and Sam had taken your daughter with them. 

“It should have been me,” Rosa said, her voice cracking. You shook your head.

“Don’t think like that Diaz. You start thinking like that and you’ll never forgive yourself,” you said. 

“The perp was aiming for me and he jumped in front of me. If it wasn’t for him, I’d be dead,” she said. You pulled her into a hug. She was stiff for a moment before she wrapped her arms around you and let herself sob.

“You know that’s who he was, Rosa. He’d have done that for any of you. Don’t let this guilt eat at you. He wouldn’t want that. I don’t want that,” you told her. 

“He should still be here,” she said. You held her tighter. 

“But he’s not. And that hurts. But it’s life,” you said.

“You should hate me, scream at me. Something. How are you so calm?” she asked. You sighed.

“Because you’re my friend. And I know my husband. Even if he knew the outcome, he would have taken that bullet every time. You hear me? Every time. You’re riding with me,” you said, nodding toward the waiting car. 

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Routines were hard to break. You found yourself reaching for him in the mornings, the remnants of a dream at the forefront of your mind. The cold side of the bed was a reminder that it was a dream, that he was gone. Some days you were on autopilot, pouring two cups of coffee, making his just how he liked it, before remembering you only needed coffee for one. His laundry sat untouched. You couldn’t bring yourself to wash it. 

Rosa had become a fixture around the house. If Jake and Amy weren’t over for dinner, she was. A quiet understanding existed between you and the 99. They would always be welcome. They would always be family. It was why two months after his death, Rosa, Gina, and Amy were sat in your bedroom with Natasha while you paced, three pregnancy tests sitting face down on the dresser. Jake was in the other room with Charles. You questioned your decision to leave your daughter in their care. 

“Well?” Gina asked, giving you an expectant look.

“I can’t look. I can’t,” you said. 

“Then I will,” Amy said, picking up the tests.

“You do realize she peed on those, right?” Rosa asked, an amused smirk on her face. Amy dropped them before apologizing. 

“Might as well read them out, Ames,” Gina said. A smile emerged on Amy’s face.

“You’re pregnant,” Amy said. For the first time in two months, you smiled. You had chalked your last missed period up to the stress of everything. Sure, you and Bucky had been trying for another child, but you didn’t think you were pregnant, you didn’t dare to hope that you were. 

Your first appointment, you couldn’t bring yourself to go alone. You asked Rosa to join you.

“No,” she said.

“Rosa, please? I can’t do this alone,” you said. The other woman glared at you.

“Fine. But only because I can’t stand the sound of crying,” she said, crossing her arms. 

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Seven more months passed by, and Bucky’s birthday arrived. You were officially on maternity leave. You brought your daughter to the cemetery, flowers in hand. She was another year older, having turned four in February. 

“Any day now, Buck. Our son will be here,” you said as you sat on the cold ground, thankful for the lack of snow. You placed the picture your daughter had drawn under a rock in a protective sleeve, before securing it with a metal stake through the holes meant for a binder. A small collection had amassed there over the previous months. You would swap them out every so often, placing them in a box you kept at home. 

You had barely gotten in the door when you felt a strong contraction. You looked toward the photo on the mantel. It was a photo of you and Bucky from the day your daughter was born.

“You...you know what Barnes, fair play, fair play,” you said to the empty room. You waited a bit before you called someone. Steve and Peggy were on their way to watch your daughter. Natasha and Rosa on the other hand were set to be your support in the room. 

Just shy of midnight, your son was born. You had told Bucky once upon a time, that you wanted your son to share his name. He had laughed and agreed, but only if his middle name was Steven. You had smiled at that. James Steven Barnes. You looked at Rosa.

“Would you like to hold your godson?” you asked her. Her eyes widened.

“My godson?” she asked. You nodded.

“Yeah, Diaz. Bucky and I talked about it a long time ago,” you told her. It was true, you had. For the two of you, it hadn’t been a religion thing. You wanted to know that your kids would be in good hands if something happened. Steve and Nat were your daughter’s godparents. Jake and Rosa would be your son’s. Between the four of them, you were confident that should something happen, your kids would be well cared for and loved. 

You were still healing. The hurt would never go away. You hated the word goodbye. But you knew. This goodbye wasn’t forever. Bucky wasn’t gone, not truly. You looked at your daughter and saw his smile. You looked at your newborn son and saw his eyes. Your weekly conversations with his mother revealed more stories you hadn’t heard before. Bucky may have been gone, but he was woven into the very core of your life. You could see him in the jokes that flowed between the 99 when you’d hang out with them, in the way Steve was teaching Peter how to defend himself, even though he swore up and down he was doing nothing of the sort. You saw him in the way you’d catch Natasha jamming out to music you knew she used to hate when you’d walk in on days she was watching your daughter. He lived on in all of you. 

You closed your eyes to rest as the last of your visitors left your hospital room. You swore you could hear his voice as you drifted off, a smile on your face. 

[jayjay547]

SHIELD's Best Podcast and Other Things Bucky Should Not Have Done: Chapter One

Summary: Bucky Barnes: natural poet, amateur author, and relationship expert. The last part was a heavy exaggeration, but he's fooled enough people into thinking so; after all, his advice was held to such high regard that he got a spot on one of New York City's most popular podcasts. He even liked to think he was revolutionary for helping break down the stereotype of relationship experts being perfect at handling relationships. If only someone had asked him for advice on how to deal with falling in love with two different people who were coincidentally in love with each other.

Not that it would have mattered, anyway. Bucky never followed his own advice.

Chapter Word Count: 3,309 words

Relationship: Sam Wilson/Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes

AU: Modern/College

click here to read on ao3

click here for the masterlist 

Bucky didn't ask to be famous. 

Not that he was in the normal sense of the word. No one in New Jersey knew his name, much less anyone on the West Coast. Actually, most people in New York City probably didn't know who he was, but that was okay. He liked to think the people who mattered (meaning people within a half mile radius of him) knew who he was, at least a little bit. 

If one was to go up to a college student about to go into their first lecture of the day at New York University and asked them whether the name "Bucky Barnes," or "James Buchanan Barnes" if it was a day for formalities, rang a bell, the most obvious and common answer would be along the lines of "that writer boy." Not "that failed mechanical engineer," not "the one who can't do any type of science to save his life," and definitely not "the boy who cried in his car while eating ice cream after his ex-boyfriend dumped him." Especially not the last one, even if that particular low moment was just the beginning of his rise to fame. 

He also wasn't quite famous enough to get stopped while walking through hallways, unless it was by an older professor of his; even then, it was a reach. As he walked to his class, nobody really gave him a side glance. He liked to think that the people who did were somewhat appreciative of his looks, but that was wishful thinking, the thinking of someone who was still in the rebound period of getting over a relationship even though the break up was a year ago. 

When Bucky walked into his poetry concentration class, though, he knew more than a few people recognized him. There was only one picture of him that was published with his writing, a professional headshot and all, and while Bucky looked like a wreck most days in his life, it wasn't hard to put two and two together. 

He sat down on one of the benches, shuffling the papers he brought with him around, just to look like he was doing something. Not long after, there was a tap on his shoulder. Bucky braced himself for his first fan interaction of the day (and the month, but he wouldn't tell you that). 

Turning around, he was met by a face that was somewhat familiar to him, even if he couldn't place the name. Maybe she was a fellow writer, or something of that sort. Her blonde hair was tied up in a low ponytail, and the wrinkles near the bottom of her forehead suggested that she spent a hell of a lot of time frowning. "What's up?" Bucky asked, angling his body towards her as best as he could. 

"Are you James Barnes?" Her tone was blunt, the voice of a woman who did not mess around. If she wasn't in his class right now, Bucky would think that she was a Business major. There was always the possibility that she was a double major, but that was a bit excessive. 

"Yes," Bucky said, before quickly (and clumsily) adding, "But I go by Bucky." 

"Bucky," she parroted, as if the nickname was much too personal for her. Maybe it was. "That's from your middle name, right? Buchanan?" 

Up until now, Bucky hadn't had any stalker-type fans, and he was hoping that he would keep that record. Of course, his middle name was published with his work, but still, it was odd. "Yes ma’am,” he responded. 

The woman stuck out her hand, and Bucky shook it. She didn't seem fazed by his gloved hands, and he appreciated the lack of questioning around why he was even wearing gloves inside a warm classroom. “My name's Sharon,” she said. Her handshake was firm, practiced, and Bucky wondered again whether she was in Business. “You're the one who wrote the open letter, right? ‘What's Wrong With City Days?’”

She was much too put together to be a stalker, but who the hell actually knew the title of his first published piece? Bucky didn't even know some of the titles of his own works. “Uh,” he said intelligently, “Yeah. Yes, that's me.” 

Sharon put her hand on the desk in front of her, tapping at it for a second or two, drawing attention to her perfectly manicured nails. Bucky wished his nails looked that nice. “Well, I've read your work, Bucky,” she sighed out, as if it was a tragedy that had happened to her. “And I thought it was superb.”

Maybe she was a little too put together; Bucky wasn't sure he knew anyone who used the word “superb,” much less anyone who used it to describe his work. Stalker wasn't off the list yet. “I'm glad you think so,” he said slowly, before slapping himself mentally. He was being rude. “Sorry, I'm still not used to people reading my stuff. Specifically that piece.” Bucky winced, his mind going a hundred miles per hour. “Kinda wish people hadn't read that piece.” 

Sharon leaned forward, closer to Bucky. “Why not?” She asked gently, taking him by surprise. She looked sincere enough, and he wished he could tell her, but then the door opened. As the professor walked into the classroom, Sharon straightened up, sitting back into her seat, and Bucky took that as his cue to face forward. 

Why not? The question stewed in his head as the professor Mr. So-and-so, who Bucky had missed the name of, promising himself that he would just read the syllabus, started to drone on about basic topics. 

Why not? Maybe because it was around the time he found out that Brock Rumlow had been cheating on him throughout the entire duration of their relationship. Maybe because, right after that, he realized that he couldn't pass any of the classes meant for engineering. Maybe it was because he had then been notified that he had to go in for another round of surgeries on his arm. 

There were a lot of reasons why “What's Wrong With City Days?” hurt. But he had still published it, as a dramatic and overly emotional person does. Correction: Natasha had published it, but only after Bucky told her she could. 

He had written it in between the first and second operation on his arm. The hospital TV didn't play anything he was interested in watching, and staring downwards at his laptop while it played Netflix gave him a headache he couldn't bear to have. So he wrote. And he wrote. And then he napped, woke up, and wrote some more. He may have even written when he was high on anesthesia, which Clint told him didn't make much sense. 

Getting pieces of metal inserted into your arm was apparently the best motivator there was.

He stared ahead at the professor who continued to talk, the words passing through Bucky's head quicker than the man was saying them. It was only the first day of this class, and Bucky knew he would have catching up to do.

His phone screen turned on, placed next to his binder and all his messed up papers, a notification popping up. He swiped it. 

Spider Mom

Walk Lucky when you get back. Ty 

Bucky coughed quietly under his breath to disguise the laugh he felt bubbling up his throat at Natasha’s bluntness. He texted back a quick confirmation before clicking his phone off. Behind him, a pair of eyes bored into his back, so much so that Bucky swore he could feel it. When he turned back, Sharon didn't even disguise the fact that she was looking at him, smiling slightly at him when they made eye contact. As embarrassed as he was to admit it, he looked away first. 

The minutes ticked by as Bucky entered a staring contest with the right-facing wall. His phone lit up a few more times, but he didn't check it. The one portion of exposed brick was getting more and more interesting by the second; Bucky was convinced if he looked at it any longer, he would have enough ammunition to make another viral poem. 

And then suddenly, the lecture ended. Most likely, the end wasn't as sudden to others as it was to Bucky. 

While Bucky was scrambling together the papers that he had put on his desk for nothing, the quiet sound of footsteps coming up behind him alerted him that Sharon was still here, and still interested in talking. 

“Where do you go after class?” She asked briskly, and what was left of Bucky's “Stranger Danger” alarms went off in his head. Against his best interest, he answered her.

“I walk over to Martinelli's, the coffee shop. Do you know it?” He added as her lips tilted up into a half smile at the name. She nodded slightly.

“You could say that. Let me walk you over?” She asked kindly, but something told Bucky that it wasn't really a request. He could obviously say no, but something about her compelled him to accept.

“I could always use the company,” Bucky muttered back, stringing his bag over his right shoulder. Together, they walked out the classroom, and after a few more steps, they entered the outside world.

“So,” Sharon said immediately, as if the cold city air allowed her to talk freely. “I have some questions.” 

“Uh,” Bucky got out. He had only done one interview for his writing, and he had prepared so thoroughly for that one, only for half of his words to be taken out of context. “Go for it.” 

Something that Bucky realized very quickly was that Sharon walked very, very fast. He widened the length of his strides, huffing cold breaths of air as the woman started to speak, barely sounding out of breath. “Do you know what SHIELD's Best is?” 

Bucky's heart skipped a beat, and not because he was struggling to speed walk. SHIELD's Best: the most popular podcast in New York City, not just NYU. There was no real reason why it had the renown that it had; listening to it, though, was explanation enough. If the topic was relevant, it was covered. Bucky even swore multiple times to Clint and Natasha that the podcast covered things that weren't even out yet. They never lingered on the same topic twice, and there was something for everyone, it seemed. It was his source of news, and the source of news for most people in the city. The defining part of it had to be that the four speakers all had undeniable chemistry, not to mention that they also had very, very nice voices, especially the two men. 

“Wait,” Bucky said suddenly, stopping in his tracks. Sharon slowed down with much more grace, turning to face Bucky in the middle of the slightly crowded sidewalk, a smile on her face as if she was already anticipating his question. “Are you Sharon Carter?”

She laughed, and Bucky felt a swell of pride for being correct, followed by a torrent of embarrassment for their entire conversation up until now. “I'll take that as a yes, then,” she murmured, and Bucky forced himself to move towards her as she started to walk again. Sharon Carter, one of the speakers on what was possibly one of the most influential podcasts, was walking with him to a coffee shop. 

The multiple shops passed by as they walked in silence for about a hundred feet, or something like that, which Bucky appreciated. It gave him time to collect his thoughts, and there was a lot to collect. After they passed a few more signs, though, Sharon decided that enough time was given. 

“So you're aware that we have guest speakers?” Sharon asked, and Bucky tripped. At least, he almost did, but he corrected himself right away. He couldn't wipe away the humiliated red that stained his cheeks, though. 

“Yes, I'm aware,” he said, stringing his words together as carefully as possible. He refused to mess up whatever was happening before it even happened. 

“Well, Bucky, we want you to guest speak about your writing,” Sharon said smoothly, as if it wasn't the biggest (positive) thing that had happened in Bucky's life. “I will say it was sheer luck that I have the same class as you this year, but don't think this is just a convenience grab. One of our speakers, Steve, really likes your work.” 

Bucky turned red again, which was not the best look for him, but at least he could blame it on the cold. Steve - amazing, supposedly kind-hearted Steve with a voice that Bucky would die for - liked his work?

It was only after they walked a few more steps that Bucky realized that Sharon was probably waiting for more than a lovesick look from his face. “Yeah, uh,” he got out, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I'd love to. It'd be an honor,” he finally said, and Sharon smiled again. Maybe she could sense his sincerity, as wrapped up in his awkwardness as it was. 

“Sounds good, Bucky,” she murmured in reply, slowing down. In a daze, Bucky realized that they had reached their destination. Out of pure habit, he moved to open the door. It was only after Sharon thanked him and went into the shop that Bucky remembered that she had only said she would walk him there. Once again, anxiety threatened to overwhelm him, his brain piecing together every possible bad impression he had made on the woman. 

“Hey Sharon. Hey Bucky,” was what the two of them heard upon entering the shop. Sharon immediately waved to Bucky’s (kind of) employer.

"Hey Angie. I was just walking Bucky over here," she threw out casually, gesturing vaguely to Bucky, who was still trying to figure out why Sharon was familiar enough with Martinelli to call her "Angie." 

"Cool, cool. Didn't know you guys knew each other," she added, her eyes darting between the two of them. Bucky could have said the same thing back, but his mouth had a tendency to betray him, so he kept it shut. 

"Just met today. So, Bucky," she stated, all professional, "Let's exchange numbers and you can let me know when you get back home so we can discuss times when you're not busy."

Bucky took her phone hesitantly, starting to type in his number as he spoke. "Actually, I live above the shop." 

Sharon's eyebrows went up. "Really?" Bucky nodded as she continued, "I actually haven't met any of the others who live here." 

She had to stop confusing Bucky. His head couldn't take much more thinking. Why would it be a surprise that she hadn't met them? Sharon mistook his blank stare and silence as disdain, adding quickly, "I'm not planning on meeting anyone else today, so don't worry about introducing me." 

"Oh no, it's fine, I was just..." Bucky muttered, handing back her phone carefully. "Thinking. I was just thinking." In front of him, Sharon opened up her messages, clicking the new contact he had made for himself, sending a text. In his back pocket, he felt his phone buzz, but for her sake, Bucky made a show of taking his phone out and checking to see whether he had gotten a text. He had, and he quickly created her contact. 

“So,” Sharon started again, sliding her own phone back into her pocket, a movement that mirrored Bucky's. “We usually record on Saturdays. Does that work for you?”

Bucky nodded, wordlessly, which was an appropriate enough answer for Sharon. “Alright, good. I'll send you some stuff about it later. Basically, you're allowed to pick any piece of work that you would like to share, but let me know which one by tonight. I will then send you a rough outline of questions that will be asked, but try not to practice answers. It's more engaging if it doesn't sound like you're reading off a script.” 

As much as he tried, his mind was still struggling to wrap itself around the information that Sharon was calmly relaying, as if she had practiced it multiple times over, but just enough to still be natural. Her smooth way of speech had to be attributed to the fact that she was on a podcast; Bucky refused to believe that people were just born that charismatic. He nodded again, barely remembering to answer her. 

“Alright,” she said, checking her watch. “I have to go. I'll text you later. It was wonderful meeting you, Bucky.” Her voice was honest, sincere, as was the smile on her face. It was contagious, and he let a small smile slide onto his face as well. 

“It was nice meeting you too, Sharon,” he replied back, just as sincere, earning him a flash of teeth in Sharon's smile before she made her way towards the door, only stopping to give a quick goodbye to Angie. Even after the bell on the door stopped ringing and she was past the sight of the windows, Bucky kept standing there, frozen to the floor. 

“Hey man,” came Angie’s hesitant voice, and Bucky made a small sound of assent to declare that he had heard the woman. A few more seconds without a reply, and Bucky turned around slightly, just enough to see her in his peripheral vision. “Clint mentioned to me that he wanted you to take out Lucky?” 

Bucky groaned, but it was the reality check he needed, at least.

- - - - -

When he finally came home from the long walk, he entered through the back entrance of the shop. From personal experience, bringing the happiest, friendliest golden retriever in through the front of the shop would take from Bucky about an hour of his life. Bucky and Lucky (yes, they rhyme) clambered up the stairway to the small upstairs area with two doors across from each other. The door on the left was closed, signalling to him that Wanda and Pietro, the siblings that lived there, were not home; Wanda liked to leave the door open when she was, claiming it helped with “air circulation.” 

He opened the door to the right, simultaneously leaning down to start loosening the harness around Lucky. For his efforts, Bucky got a slobbery kiss on the cheek which he took in a stride. Closing the door behind him, he unleashed Lucky, who made a beeline for his water bowl. Bucky collapsed on the one tiny couch, leaning his head back on the top of the cushion so he could stare at the plain popcorn ceiling. 

Almost immediately, his phone buzzed. Letting out a long sigh, he fumbled for the phone he had thrown clumsily onto the couch, blinding swiping on the notification once he felt the phone in his hand. 

Sharon 

Saturday, 1:00 pm. Don't worry about eating lunch beforehand. 

Also, let me know what piece as soon as you can. 

He read the text again and again in his head. For the hundredth time, he clarified to himself that it was PM and not AM before making ten alarms for Saturday, starting at ten in the morning and ending at noon. Immediately after, he returned to regarding the messages again, only glancing away to make eye contact with Lucky, who had decided that the only rational thing to do after drinking water was drool on Bucky's leg. 

“Well bud,” he muttered, reaching out to scratch behind the dog's ears absentmindedly. “I'm really doing this, huh?” 

Lucky just stared at him, which was a good enough answer for Bucky to send a quick reply to Sharon, confirming his attendance and assuring that he would, in fact, pick a piece of his writing by tonight. 

“It's just a one time thing,” Bucky said to the rest of the room. “It's a breakthrough, but it's only a one time thing.” 

masterlist

[s-horne]

29. Linaria Bipartita (notice my feelings for you)

On AO3

A loud moan woke Tony, though he had been drifting in and out of consciousness for a while. That usually happened when he’d been out drinking. He didn’t really do hangovers as such, but he found sleep was hard to come by once the sun was up. Once the afternoon came, though, Tony tended to crash. And crash hard.

Things were already feeling a little different, though. It might have been the bruises on the column of his throat, or the small spring in his step.

Pulling on a baggy sweatshirt that he didn’t think was his but that had a modestly-high neckline, Tony wandered out of the kitchen and into the living room. Hearing his houseguest moving around, he paused in the doorway and watched as Steve woke up slowly, his face scrunched up against the bright lighting in the living room. When Steve pushed himself up into a sitting position and caught sight of Tony standing in the doorway, he grimaced.

“Morning, Tony.”

Tony’s lips quirked up at the deep scratch of Steve’s voice. “Morning. How’s the head?”

“Shit. I feel like death warmed up.”

Tony snorted. His heart started to beat wildly in his chest and he could feel a flush already rising. Even with bed hair, bags under his eyes, and a pillow crease down his cheek, Steve was still the most beautiful man Tony had ever seen. “Yeah. You look like it.”

“Gee, thanks.” Steve yawned widely, arms above his head. The borrowed blanket that he’d had over himself slipped down and Tony couldn’t stop his gaze from wandering, eyes settling on the expanse of tanned, muscled chest. “Fuck, what the hell did I drink?”

“The bar?” Tony swallowed and looked away, hating the memories that flooded his brain and started to make his cock twitch with interest. There was nothing he wanted to do more than launch himself across the room and into Steve’s arms, but he could play coy when he felt like there would be something in it for him. And hopefully, there would be something in him very soon. “We’ll have to go back and make sure they’re still in business.”

“Ha. Ha. Pretty sure you helped. You little hooligan.”

Tony grinned and looked back at Steve. “Corruption. Peer pressure, I think you could call it.”

“Nope, it was all on you.” Steve shook his head before he winced almost violently and threw a hand up to his face. “Okay, don’t move your head,” he muttered to himself lowly, voice deliciously husky. “Bad idea. Bad, bad idea.”

Tony snorted again. “I could have told you that, dickhead.”

Steve looked a little surprised, but it faded into a slow smile. “You’ve been hanging around with Buck too much, if you’re talking back like that.”

“Problem?”

Tony loved the way that Steve looked at him, all gentle shock fading into soft pride. It was true that Tony had needed to be brought out of his shell and that Bucky, Sam, and Rhodey had been the three men to do just that. Their personalities were so different to anybody else that Tony had ever met in his sheltered life before moving to college, but it seemed that that had been a good thing.

After a few months of them literally taking him beneath their wings and introducing him to an entirely new world, Tony had started to trust that they were actually, genuinely his friends and had started to let a bit of his cheekiness show.

If it was going to have the added bonus of making Steve look at him like that, then Tony was all for it even more.  

“Nah, I think I kind of like it. Tiny Tony growing up.”

Tony narrowed his eyes, but he softened quickly when Steve shot him a wide grin, one hand still massaging his forehead.

“So, what did happen last night?” Steve asked through a yawn, which quickly turned into a groan.

And that stopped Tony in his tracks. What was the supposed to mean?

“You don’t remember?” Tony asked, trying not to let any sort of emotion colour his voice and give anything away. There had to be an explanation; it was probably just Steve giving him an out. Or an in.

Last night had been everything to Tony and Steve was saying that he didn’t remember it? There was no way that that was possible. Steve had been drunk, sure, but not so bad that he wouldn’t be able to recall… what they’d done.

“I don’t think so.” Steve scratched his stomach and rolled his neck, drawing Tony’s eyes to his body, flickering between the two spots as he tried to take in as much as he could. “Not even sure how I got back here.”

And, oh. That hadn’t been what Tony had wanted to hear. In fact, that had been the very last thing that Tony had ever wanted to be told. Nothing could have prepared him for the shiver that went down his spine at those few words, or the crushing pain that closed around his chest.

How could he have been so stupid?

Without saying anything in response to that, Tony pushed himself from the door frame and headed into the kitchen. He grabbed a glass from the cupboard to fill with water and shook three Advil from the pill bottle – Steve would definitely need three after the night that he had. Apparently, he’d been even worse than they’d thought.

Taking a moment to enjoy the peace and to will down the emotions threating to spill up and out of him, Tony let out a long breath. He pressed his palms against the cool surface of the work station and revealed in the feeling against his overheated skin. He was going to need a minute. Or two.

There had been so much in the previous night’s events that Tony had longed for for months on end. It was as though all of his dreams had come true and things were finally going to fall into place. Except, apparently, they weren’t.

After a long moment more, he collected himself to head back into the living room. He’d have happily stayed in the peace and solitary of the kitchen, but he knew it would be suspicious. Once he’d gotten to the bottom of the situation with Steve and knew where he stood, then he could hide.

He had a feeling he was going to need to.

Tony headed back out to the living room where Steve was sitting on the edge of the couch and putting his socks on, looking around gingerly for his shoes. Tony held out the water and pills and Steve took them with a grateful nod, swallowing the painkillers quickly and emptying the glass before sinking back into the couch cushions with closed eyes.

Keeping his eyes on Steve, Tony lowered himself into the armchair opposite the couch.

“So, you really don’t remember anything?”

“Not really,” Steve said. He opened one eye and squinted over at Tony. “I remember getting to the bar. I think I remember meeting Clint’s friends from his chem class, and then Natasha ordered shots. I don’t remember much else after that. Did I miss anything important?”

“Well,” Tony started casually, stamping down on the fist around his heart and the lump in his throat, “there was the naked dancing on the bar top.”

Steve’s head shot up, mouth open and eyes wide, before he caught sight of the wicked grin on Tony’s face and rolled his eyes, fighting off his own smile as he sank back down.

“No, you didn’t forget anything important,” Tony said with a weak chuckle.

His heart was thudding wildly in his chest and he had to look away from Steve’s gentle smile, choosing instead to stare down at his lap. There was a thread hanging from the bottom of his sweatshirt and he had to twist his fingers together to resist the urge to pull and pull and pull. Things unravelled when they were pulled, he told himself. Tony licked his lips and dug his fingernails into his palm.

“Just the usual group night out. There were too many shots, too much dancing and far too much food. Sam got wasted and crashed pretty early. Bucky drew all over his face – I’m pretty sure it was in Sharpie, so it’ll probably still be on him this morning.”

Steve snorted and Tony’s lips turned upwards in a small smile at the noise.

“We met some of your classmates at one point, I think. They were from your life-drawing class. Maria, maybe? And someone called Scott. There was a blonde girl, too. Shannon?”

“Oh. Sharon. Did we stay with them?”

Fuck. Tony had hoped that he had been wrong on the previous night when he had caught longing looks from Sharon to Steve, but the forced causal tone that Steve had adopted told him that he’d read it correctly.

“No.” Tony swallowed harshly. Of course Steve wanted the beautiful girl. “No, they moved on somewhere else pretty quickly. Tash went with them, but you stayed with us. Said you didn’t trust me to wander off.”

Steve laughed and Tony pressed his lips together at the sound. He wanted to hear nothing but that every day for the rest of his life.

“Sounds like me. Was right, though, wasn’t I? You needed me.”

And wasn’t that true?

Tony cocked his eyebrow instead and smirked. “Oh, yeah? Mind I remind you who is in whose apartment and who cannot find his shoes?”

The blush that flooded Steve’s cheeks was dangerously cute and Tony looked away again.

“So, just a normal night then? We lost Clint somewhere along the way and Sam ended up with a dick on his face.”

Tony laughed, tight and brittle. “Sounds about right.”

Well, Tony thought sullenly, that and the best night of his whole life.

♡

“Hey, Tony.”

Tony looked up from the bar-top to see Steve standing close to him, practically caging him in.

“Hi.” Tony grinned at the hazy look on Steve’s face and the way he was swaying with the music. “You okay?”

“Yeah, ‘m good. Are you okay?”

Tony’s smile grew wider. Feeling the alcohol course through him and making him feel braver than usual, he didn’t stop to second guess himself before he reached a hand out and cupped Steve’s hip. At the touch, Steve swayed forward and buried his head into Tony’s neck.

“You smell good,” he moaned, his hand dropping his drink down haphazardly to wrap around Tony’s waist instead.

“Thanks.” Tony moaned as Steve began to kiss the column of his throat, his eyes falling closed and his hand spasming around Steve’s belt.

It was easy to forget where they were for a long moment as Tony gave into the feeling of Steve pressed against him, his hot breath being panted against his neck. The music was loud and the air thick around them, the occasional dancer bumping into them as they clamoured for more drinks, but it was all almost embarrassingly easy to ignore.

Steve let out a particularly loud groan and Tony rocked forward in response, seeking more friction. He tangled his hand in Steve’s hair and, with some difficulty, lifted his head until their eyes met. They only held the heated gaze for a moment before Tony surged forward, taking Steve’s lips with his and licking his way into Steve’s mouth almost desperately.

All too soon, Steve pulled away, though he didn’t go far. His lips dragged over Tony’s cheek, nose pressing against Tony’s temple and making him squirm.

“I want you.”

Tony felt his knees crumple at the words he’d longed to hear for so long. If it weren’t for the bruise he could already feel on his neck and the cool air making his swollen lips sting, then he would think he was dreaming.

“No,” Tony said, though he held Steve closer instead of pushing him away. Always closer. Always with him, never apart. “You’re drunk.”

“I want you. Please say you want me, too.”

Tony whimpered. “Can’t you feel me?”

“I want you to say it.” Steve kissed Tony once, twice, hips pressing him further into the bar.

“Yes,” Tony whispered. The words wouldn’t have been heard over the music if they hadn’t already been sharing the same breath. “Yes, I want you.”

It had been all Tony had ever wanted, since almost that first day of college. Steve was everything that Tony could have wanted; funny, kind, gentle, a bit of an asshole, gorgeous, and smart. There was no universe in which Tony would have pushed Steve away from him.

♡

“Good,” Steve said and Tony swallowed again, nails digging further into his palms. “Glad I didn’t miss anything important. And I’m sure someone has photos, right? Someone normally does.”

Tony winced minutely. Shit. He hadn’t even thought of that. Clint tended to fancy himself as somewhat of a photographer when he got wasted and tried to record everything their group ever did. Tony would have to cut that off pretty quickly and hope that any evidence hadn’t found its way onto social media already.

“Yeah,” Tony said, praying that his voice didn’t sound as strained as it felt. “I’m sure. He seemed to have his phone out every time I looked at him.”

“Wait.” Steve looked up suddenly and squinted. “Why did I end up here? Thought I’d have gone home with Buck.”

“Bucky had taken Sam back to yours before we went. The whole passing-out-on-the-bathroom-floor thing was kind of a downer so Bucky said he’d take him home. You and I stayed out for a bit longer and, I don’t know.”

You didn’t want to wake him up with loud sex with me, Tony thought bitterly. Bucky had left before Steve and Tony had started dancing together, never mind done anything more risqué, so at least that was one problem that he didn’t have to deal with. Tony lifted one shoulder in a causal shrug and shook his head.

“Don’t know if you had a key on you, anyway. You were a bit out of it and I didn’t want to go rifling through your pockets to find out. Easier to bring you back here with me, in the end.”

♡

The moan that Tony let out as his back hit the door was loud enough to hurt his throat. Steve must have felt it as well, as he pulled back to try and look at Tony.

“No,” Tony whined, cupping his hands together behind Steve’s head and bringing him back for another searing kiss, “kiss me.”

“Fuck.” The word was accompanied by Steve’s thigh sliding between Tony’s legs and pressing up against his crotch. “Tony, so good.”

“Come on, Steve. Come on,” Tony begged, grinding down on the leg between his and panting wantonly. “I need you.”

“No.” Steve kissed his way down Tony’s neck, pausing to suck another deep bruise into his neck. “Not tonight.”

“What? Please.” Tony threw his head back and let out another groan, movements almost turning to bounces against Steve’s solid thigh. “Fuck me.”

Steve pulled back only to catch Tony’s mouth in a searing kiss, leaving him breathless. “Not for our first time,” he said when they broke apart, holding Tony’s hips and helping him move against Steve.

That was a change of tune, Tony thought with a dark glare. In the club, Steve hadn’t had those same sort of thoughts. The alcohol was burning off in Tony’s system, but it seemed as though it was being replaced with a white-hot passion, a desperation to be close to the man he wanted. It was coursing through him and making his head spin, much like the tequila that Natasha had poured down his throat had done.

“You deserve so much more. So much better.” Steve kissed Tony again, tongues dancing together. One of his hands slid up beneath Tony’s shirt, fingers pressing into the dimples at the bottom of his spin. “Gonna treat you right. When we’re not drunk, not rushing. We’ll do it right.”

Tony didn’t want to do it right; he just wanted to do it. He wanted to feel Steve against him, feel their bodies moving together in tandem and to finally be connected with the one he’d pined after for so long.

“Will you do something, though?” Tony should have been ashamed at how desperate he sounded, but the wolfish grin on Steve’s face told him that he didn’t seem to mind.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Steve said and Tony’s eyes rolled back into his head when Steve shoved his hand down the front of his jeans. “I’ve got you.”

♡

“Personally,” Tony continued, pointing at the empty takeaway boxes on the coffee table between them, “I just don’t think you wanted to share your pizza with him.”

With cum-stained pants and hardly any energy, they’d stumbled into the living room and ordered pizza at 3 am. They’d shared sticky kisses over the greasy food until Steve had fallen asleep on the couch, one hand clutching a crust and the other stroking over Tony’s back.

“Huh,” Steve said, huffing out a laugh. “Don’t even remember ordering that, but it sounds about right.”

Tony didn’t answer. He wasn’t surprised. Nothing could surprise him anymore, he didn’t think.

Taking a steeling breath, Steve stood up on shaking legs and picked his jacket up off the floor. Searching through the pockets with a slightly nervous expression, Steve grinned triumphantly when he found his keys and pulled them out with a jingle. “Thank fuck those are still there.”

“Guess you were drunker than you thought you were,” Tony chuckled weakly. “I tried to tidy up but I have no idea what you did after I went to bed. Looks like you had your own private party.”

“Yeah. I guess I was. I hope I didn’t do anything stupid. I was not in a good place yesterday.” Steve’s smile faltered a little bit and he cleared his throat. “Thanks for bringing me home.”

“Do you want a coffee?” Tony asked suddenly. His heart was heavy and his head was still pounding. He didn’t want to be there anymore, didn’t want to hear how Steve didn’t remember what Tony would cherish forever. He didn’t want to talk about anything, really. “My head is louder than the damn club and I need caffeine.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks.” Steve squinted at Tony, looking at him questioningly. “Hey, are you okay?”

Tony opened his mouth to brush the question off before Steve’s phone suddenly buzzed on the coffee table, the two of them wincing at the loud vibration that it made.

“Shit,” Steve said after he picked it up and thumbed the screen. “Bucky’s up and wondering why I never went home. I’d better go and show him that I’m still alive.” He took a step forward before he stopped and closed his eyes. He swayed back and forth on the spot for a moment. “Or maybe I should take another second… nope, okay. I’m good.”

Tony huffed a weak laugh. “You got this. You’re a big, buff man. You can handle your liquor.”

Steve smiled at Tony and shrugged into his jacket, shoving his phone into his pocket and waving his keys in Tony’s face.

“Thanks, again. For the pizza and the couch.”

“Yeah.” Tony’s mouth was dry and his knees weren’t going to support him for very much longer. “Anytime. You know that.”

The hug that Steve caught Tony in was the final straw. Tears sprung to Tony’s eyes and he twisted his hands in Steve’s jacket until his knuckles went white. It was for the best, he told himself when he stepped back and plastered on a smile. He was a big boy; he could handle it.

“Go. And take a photo of Sam’s face. I need to see it again.”

Steve snorted as he opened the front door. “Best hangover cure, right?”

Finally alone again, Tony wandered back into the kitchen. He made himself a cup of coffee on autopilot as he picked up his phone for the first time that morning.

He’d put it off, knowing what he was going to find. And sure enough, there were countless messages, though luckily none of them had made it into the group chat.

 Received from Natasha > Bruce told me. Way to go, shpil'ka! Get some.

Received from Rhodey > Finally!

> I’m happy for you

> Don’t ever tell me any details

> I will kill him if he hurts you

> I’m serious Tones. NO DETAILS

> NEVER ANY DETAILS

Received from Clint > ew.

> i didn’t need to see that

> no. seriously

> youre gross

> ew

Tony huffed out a humourless laugh. If things had been reversed, if he’d woken up in a different world, then he would have loved those texts. He’d have turned over to smother his laughs into Steve’s chest, typing out a cheeky and suggestive message just to see Steve’s cheeks flush a bright red as he would try and wrestle the phone away.

There would have been more teasing. It probably would have spilled over to the group chat as well, and then Bucky and Sam would have joined in when they’d put two and two together. Clint would send the photos that he’d taken of the two of them kissing, as dark and as grainy as they would be. Of course they’d have been stupidly unclear, but Tony would have chosen a favourite and made it his background, just to see Steve grin bashfully.

Tony would have taken selfie after selfie as well; one of their top-halves naked and pressed together, one of Steve pressing a kiss to Tony’s cheek, maybe even one of their lips meeting in a soft kiss.

 But none of that would happen. Because life didn’t always work out as it had been planned and things didn’t always go the way that people wanted. Instead, Tony took a deep breath and opened a new group chat, quickly picking out a handful of people that he hoped he could trust to dampen the wildfire of the rumour mill.

 Sent from Tony > Last night never happened.

Received from Rhodey > What?

> What did he say?

> Tony. I’m calling you

> Tones answer me. I’m going to kill him

Received from Bruce > What are you talking about?

> Did Steve say something to you?

Received from Rhodey > Answer your phone, you idiot. We’re talking about this

Received from Clint > i promise it did i saw it

Received from Rhodey > Tony. Answer. Your. Phone

Received from Bruce > He’s going to remember. I think Clint took pictures

Received from Clint > i took pictures lots of them

> i have the mental scars it deffo happened

Received from Rhodey > Tones. I’m coming over. Carol too

 Tony took a deep breath as his phone continued to buzz and flash in his hand. His head was still pounding to a loud and heavy beat, but it was almost drowned out by the pain in his chest.

Fuck, but how did he always get himself into messes? He didn’t want to talk to anyone, didn’t want to have to explain what happened or what he’d done. All he wanted was to be loved by the man he loved, to be wanted back and to be seen as more than a drunken fuck.

He wanted to be remembered. Sure, he could just tell Steve, but he didn’t want that. He wanted Steve to want to wake up with him, to want to kiss him when there wasn’t the stale taste of warm beer and cheap vodka staining his lips.

Jokes were never funny if they had to be explained, just like passion was never there if it had to be told about. It was clear that it had been a drunken thing and a drunken thing only. Tony would only look desperate if he tried to convince Steve what they’d done, or look like a liar if he claimed that Steve had promised him a sober fuck.

Tony just wanted to be wanted, that was all. That’s all he ever wanted.

Downing his coffee and wincing at the protesting thud his head gave, Tony willed his thumbs into typing out one more text before he threw his phone across the room and tried to force his body into sleep.

 Sent from Tony > It never happened.

[loveforpreserumsteve]

Begin Again (Mortician!Steve and Baker!Bucky Modern “Moving On” AU)

Eleven:

Taking another drink of his coffee, Steve tried to busy himself. Straightening chairs here. Fluffing pillows there. Adding more funeral programs to the already large pile on the side table. Making sure that the large, beautiful bouquets on either side of the twin sets of double doors looked as full as they were. Keeping the candy dishes on the table next to the exits full with assorted candies. All the while with Vinnie following close behind.

Scratching the dog between his floppy ears, the doorbell rang. Brows furrowing, Steve glanced up at the clock. The service wasn't for another half hour, but Steve assumed that some people would be early. It wasn't that out of the ordinary. Steve, himself, was the type of person who was early to everything. Most of it was because Joe hated when people were late, but a lot of it was just having everyone look at him.

Heading over towards the door, Steve felt Vinnie comfortingly brush against his leg. Always excited to meet someone new. Especially if it involved head scratches and possible belly rubs.

As Steve opened the door, he made sure that Vinnie sat off to the side, like he was trained to do. Even though Vinnie was trained for emotional support, that didn't mean that everyone was going to be welcome of said support. So, Vinnie sat as calmly as he could; behind Steve and slightly to the left.

Before Steve could fully open the door, a blonde woman whisked inside. Swiftly, she started shrugging out of her black peacoat and nervously explained, "I know I'm early, but I came straight from the airport -- I hope that's okay. I talked to someone on the phone and they said that it was, but I just want to --"

Gaze finally landing on Steve, the woman abruptly stopped talking. Perfectly sculpted eyebrows lifted in surprise on her pale forehead while her mouth pursed into an oval shape. Her eyes glued to his face, but only momentarily. Once she took in his face long enough to make Steve blush, her gaze traveled down over his tall, muscular frame.

It was clear that she was checking Steve out, and Steve's blush darkened. Averting his gaze, Steve took the last drink of his coffee. Gathering his wits Steve prompted, "You mentioned something about talking to someone…"

"Oh!" The blonde answered, shaking off her leering and holding her hand out as she introduced herself, "I’m Sharon."

"Steve," he shook her hand. Briefly, before taking it from her grip and placing it on Vinnie's head.  Self-conscious about how his palms were already starting to sweat and just how rapidly they were growing clammy.

Sharon correctly assumed, "I didn't talk to you on the phone."

"No, you didn't," Steve confirmed with a small grin even though his cheeks still felt hot from his earlier blush.

"Is it still okay for me to be here?" Sharon questioned, her brows furrowing as she leaned closer to clarify, "I'm here for my Great Aunt Peggy."

"Yeah, it's fine," Steve reassured, transforming leaning away from her into leading her towards the parlor that was set up for the funeral. "We usually let family members in before the service, so they can have some alone time to mourn."

"That's very generous of you," Sharon grinned, blushing a bit, herself. Linking her arm through his, she looked up at Steve, "Very sweet."

Remembering that some people acted strangely when they were in mourning, Steve forced a placating smile on his face, "It's the least we can do."

Stopping a few feet away from the open casket, Sharon took in a shaky breath. Suddenly dropping the seduction act, her gaze locked on the casket. Her smile slipping off her face and her fingers twitching on Steve's bicep. Vinnie, who had been following the pair brushed against Sharon's leg as he joined her on her side. Nosing at her free hand, Vinnie brought Sharon back to her surroundings.

Clearing her throat, Sharon softly questioned, "Can I have a moment to myself?"

"Of course," Steve assured, removing his arm from her grasp. Leaving the room, Steve turned back around and let her know, "If you need us, you can find us in the --" office? Dining room? Hanging out by the grand staircase? "--back…?"

Not turning to watch Steve exit through the open double doors across from the grand staircase and closest to the family side of the house, Sharon simply nodded and took a step towards the casket. For a moment, Steve wondered if he should stay close, just in case she needed someone there. But Steve was never good at this part of the business. Preparing a dead body for the service in a basement that most would consider creepy? No issue at all. Steve could probably do it blindfolded, in the dark, at three in the morning while a séance went on in the corner of the room. Being there for a mourner who needed support? Scared the ever living shit out of him to the point where he had had countless nightmares of that exact situation.

Seeing Joe exiting the dining room, Steve rushed over to him, "Dad!"

Startled by Steve's obvious call for help, Joe's eyes widened and he asked, "What? Everything okay?"

"There's a, uh, Sharon," Steve threw his thumb over his shoulder in the general direction that Sharon was, "Came early to see her aunt."

Quirking a brow, "Is she okay?"

"A bit shaken," Steve answered.

"You or her?" Joe teased, earning a weak eye roll from Steve. Knowing how introverted Steve was, Joe didn't pester him for long. Instead, he patted his son's shoulder and reassured, "I'll go check on her."

"Thanks," Steve sighed in relief, knowing that if he had run into Cliff, there would've been more teasing.

Worrying his lower lip with his teeth, he watched as Joe entered the parlor where Steve had left Sharon. Letting out a deep breath of relief, Steve entered the dining room to find Sam setting up.  Although the reception wouldn't start until eleven, at the earliest, Sam knew that setting up early helped soothe those around. Namely, Steve and Sarah who hated waiting until the last minute for things to be prepared.

Needing to ease his own discomfort at the encounter, Steve decided to tease Sam, "Ya gonna wear that to our wedding? Geez, thought I was special."

"Stevie, you are the most special person in my life," Sam smirked, straightening the stacks of white ceramic plates. Squaring his shoulders, Sam questioned, "Besides, it shouldn't matter what I wear to the wedding. It's about what I wear during the honeymoon."

Blushing, Steve shook his head and softly chuckled. Remembering how he had nearly said the same thing to Brock all those years ago, Steve swore that his blood ran cold for a moment. Practically hearing it aloud again. The way he had handed Brock the empty gift bag while seductively suggesting that he would be only wearing that on their honeymoon. His stomach churning as he remembered how unamused Brock had been. Hindsight is 20/20.

Before his mind could take him down that hurtful road again, Steve looked around for something to do. Spotting the containers of silverware and the stack of napkins, Steve headed into the prep pantry and quickly washed his hand before he grabbed the supplies and headed over to one of the tables set up.

Having done this many times in the restaurants that he worked in while in college, and having done this for the funerals here, Steve started rolling the silverware. Laying out the white paper napkin, Steve gathered a fork, spoon, and knife. Placing the utensils diagonally in the napkin, Steve folded the bottom corner up over the ends of the silverware. Bringing the furthest corner towards himself, Steve tucked it and started rolling. Finishing, Steve kept it from unravelling by placing a white napkin band on it.

By the time that he had a stack of twenty rolled in front of him, Sam came to sit beside him. Grabbing some of the materials for himself, Sam glanced over at Steve while nonchalantly asking, "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Steve answered too quickly, which was his first mistake. Clearing his throat and ducking his head because his blush was sure to give him away, he asked, "Why wouldn't it be?"

"You don't usually roll silverware," Sam shrugged and gestured towards the Weimaraner, "Plus, Vinnie hasn't left your side since you sat down."

"That's because Vinnie is codependent," Steve playfully waved off, rolling another silverware.

Sam gave Steve a pointed look, but didn't comment on it. The pair had been friends for a couple of years now, and Steve knew that Sam knew that if he waited long enough, Steve would spill the beans. Natasha had informed Sam as much, in the start of their relationship because she knew that pushing Steve was counterproductive. Instead of making him want to confess, it made him shutdown and hold on tighter. Ever since that chat though, Sam changed his tactics all while using a meat analogy where the longer a meat cooked the less tough it would be. Steve wasn't sure how he felt about being compared to a slab of meat, but knew that his contact name in Sam's phone happened to, "Beef Cake."

Luckily, Steve seemed to want to talk about it as he caved, "She -- Sharon -- seemed kind of, um… interested…? In… me…?"

"You sound surprised," Sam's brows furrowed as he started rolling more silverware.

"I am," Steve admitted easily. Brows furrowing, he paused in his current task to look over at Sam. Sometimes, Steve forgot that Sam wasn't there during his awkward phase. Sure, he had seen the photos that Sarah just loved bringing out at every opportunity. But seeing the pictures and experiencing the bullying were two different things. And as much as Steve spouted about body positivity to Eddie and Natasha, he was still just as insecure now as he had been back then.

"Well, you shouldn't be. You're hot," Sam shrugged again. Playfully, Steve quirked his brow and Sam rolled his eyes, but there was a smile on his face as he reminded, "I'm comfortable in my sexuality to admit when another man is attractive."

"Fair enough," Steve conceded, grabbing another napkin to roll more silverware. Focusing his attention fully on his current task, Steve asked, "So, what should I do?"

"Ask her out," Sam jokingly suggested.

Pausing again with only one side of the napkin tucked, Steve deadpanned, "Sam, she's mourning."

"See," Sam waved a finished silverware accusingly at Steve as he teased, "If she heard that, she'd only want you more."

"Sam, I'm gay," Steve reminded just as unenthused as before.

That time, Sam paused too. Brows furrowing as he feigned confusion, "I thought you dated Nattie?"

Chuckling, Steve balled up one of the napkins and tossed it at Sam as he corrected, "In the fifth grade!"

"Huh," Sam good-naturedly scoffed. A slow grin stretching his lips as he teased, "So, I guess I don't have anything to worry about with you running away with the love of my life and my future wife?"

Playfully rolling his eyes, Steve balled up another napkin and threw it at him for good measure. Recognizing the way his shoulders relaxed and just how thankful he was that Sam was there. Thankful that Sam was his friend. Thankful that Sam was marrying his best friend. Thankful that Sam knew how to calm him down like no one other than Natasha did. Even if he did purposely make himself look like an ass for Steve's benefit.

[lovemesomerafael]

Destroying the Planet to Save It    Chapter 5:  Nobody Likes a Crybaby

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Read it on AO3

When the blinking green dot representing Bucky’s Quinjet disappeared from the map, there was nothing but silence in the workroom.  Tony still held his phone in his hand, mouth open as though he was going to try to repeat the heading Barnes hadn’t heard.  His shock-numb brain could only think that there wasn’t a bunch of static on the phone after the plane disappeared from the screen, like in the movies.  Instead, there was just… nothing.  

On the other side of the screen, he could see Bruce’s face.  He looked like he’d been struck stupid, just as Tony surely did.  He looked over at Dr. Mulready and, when she looked as stunned as Bruce did, felt a momentary flash of irritation, as though her failure to plan for this situation was a personal affront.  For the first time in Tony Stark’s memory, he had absolutely no idea what to say or do.  All three of the supposed geniuses in the room simply stood, silent and helpless.  

Fortunately, they were still on the line with Director Coulson, who had no such problem.  Coulson assured those in the room that S.H.I.E.L.D. was already in communication with all the local agencies, as well as the feds, both locally and in Washington.  With President Lattimore on board, there would be an insane amount of help on the site of the Quinjet crash in a matter of minutes.  He reminded them that the plane wasn’t in some remote location.  It was on the outskirts of Atlanta.  Coulson excused himself to start lighting fires under people.  

When he heard the click of Coulson disconnecting, Tony’s mind suddenly, sickeningly realized what this meant.  He closed his eyes, spitting a quiet, “Fuck!”

“What?”  Bruce asked weakly.

“Rogers.”  Their eyes met in immediate understanding.

“Fuck,” Bruce echoed, whispering.  

*****

Steve was in no way ready to hear Friday’s voice telling him he was needed for an emergency meeting. For one thing, he was in the shower. For another, he was in the shower with one hand under each of Sharon Carter’s thighs, holding her against the textured granite tile wall with her legs wrapped around his waist and her head thrown back.  She was moments from climax.  It occurred to Steve, in his endorphin-addled haze, that he’d watched Sharon have enough orgasms in the last four hours that he was actually starting to know the signs.

“Excuse me, Captain Rogers, Agent Carter, but there’s an emergency.”

Although Sharon raised her head, Steve didn’t stop lifting and lowering her on his cock, and by the third stroke she was back to her regularly scheduled program.  

“Is the world gonna end if you wait another sixty seconds to tell us what it is?”

There was a short lull while Friday apparently computed that, before his voice came back.  “No, Sir.”

“Then leave us alone until I call you.”

“Yes, Sir.”

*****

Everyone in the room was too distressed to notice that Steve and Sharon both had wet hair as they entered the conference room together at a run.  Sam and Clint were standing next to the big, oval table, arms folded as if trying to hold in their emotions, while Tony and Bruce sat at one end, looking grim. Natasha stood next to them with a hand on Tony’s shoulder in an uncharacteristic show of empathy.  Although neither Anita Herrera nor Catherine Mulready were part of this group, the feeling of dread and anguish in the room was palpable even to them.

“What’s going on?”  Steve demanded.  “Friday wouldn’t tell us.”

No one noticed the “us.”

“Sit down, Rogers,” Natasha said.  

Steve sat.  Had anyone else in the room said that, he would have balked.  But Natasha Romanoff was not a woman to waste time on convention.  She wasn’t soft, or coddling.  Not to anyone.  Steve knew immediately that, whatever had happened, it was bad.  Natasha sat down across the table from him, putting her hands flat on the table, for the first time ever seeming to have trouble meeting his eyes. Her voice was smooth and low, with a note in it that made Steve, irrationally, want to strike out at her and beat her to death before she could say whatever it was.  “There was another energy spike.  It was followed by a storm.  A violent electrical storm with winds in excess of two hundred miles an hour.”

Steve nodded.  “All right.  Where?  Who’s on site?”

“There’s more, Steve,” she said, taking a breath to let him prepare himself.  He actually stiffened in preparation to get up and lunge at her. “The storm was over Atlanta.  And, at the time, so was Barnes’s Quinjet, with President Lattimore on board.”

Steve’s face went hard even as all color drained from it.  “Tell me.”

“We were in communication with them.  Stark was on the line with Coulson about the energy spike and the storm, and when he realized where Barnes was, he called to warn him.  But the storm came out of nowhere, basically formed around them.  Things got bad fast.  Stark and Coulson tried to help, but…  Barnes was looking for a place to put it down when we lost comms and tracking.”  

Everyone in the room watched Steve begin to absorb this news.  After everything he and Bucky had been through, after everything he’d done to rescue Bucky, and everything Bucky had done to reclaim his mind and his life… All he said was, “How long ago?”

“About ten minutes.  We know pretty well where they are, and there’s an armada of help on the way.  They’re northwest of Atlanta; they were looking for somewhere clear, somewhere away from people…”

Steve nodded, acknowledging what she didn’t say.  He was looking for open land so that, when they crashed, no one else would die. Just those on the Quinjet.  

Just Bucky.  

The only reason Steve didn’t heave his guts out at that moment was that he was simply incapable of moving. Sharon sat down next to him, close, but not touching him.  He was glad.  If she touched him, he knew that he would shatter into a million pieces.  

“We don’t know anything yet,” Natasha went on in that low, calm voice.  “They still had a minimum of control, enough to have a little bit of a choice about where they landed.  And Barnes… with his enhancements, even if it’s bad, he could have survived.”

Steve swallowed.  “Get me there.”

“Already underway, Cap,” Tony said quietly.  “Chopper will be here in twenty.  Jet’s being fueled as we speak.”

“Good.  Thank you.”

“I’m coming with you,” Sharon told him.  

“So am I,” Tony added.

Steve just nodded, his jaw clenched and his eyes carefully avoiding everyone else’s.  Of all the things he could be feeling right now, he didn’t understand why the emotion threatening to overwhelm him at this moment was sheer, piercing rage.

*****

Being a supersoldier means that a lot of things that would fuck up a normal guy don’t do that much to you. But falling out of the sky strapped to nine tons of disintegrating Quinjet, that’s gonna leave a mark on anyone. Bucky groaned loudly, swore profusely in Russian, and tried to figure out which way was up.  Eventually, he gave up trying to use his senses and just did what he’d been trained to do.  He spit. He swore again when the spit landed in his hair.  OK.  Upside-down then.  

There was light coming through a crack in the other side of the fuselage, softly illuminating Jeff Traynor’s obviously-dead body.  Bucky tried to be respectful and gentle as he unhooked Jeff’s harness and lifted him down to rest on the crushed ceiling of what had been the cockpit, needing to get by him. Something was very wrong with Bucky’s metal arm.  It wasn’t at full power and it made a sound like a dying wildebeest when he moved it certain ways, but at least it still worked.  For now.  Which was a good thing, because he was going to have to bust his way out of here, peeling the metal back from that crack until it was wide enough to get through.

He knew he wasn’t the only survivor.  He could hear moans coming from where the rear of the plane should be.  He had to get to whoever was still alive.  Seeing what had happened to Jeff, though, he prepared himself for some more grisly discoveries.  But Bucky had been on battlefields.  He wearily  acknowledged that there wasn’t much that could sicken him anymore.

After what felt like an hour, but was probably closer to fifteen minutes, of punching and bending and tearing at the metal on the sides of the crack in the fuselage, Bucky had separated the sides enough to slither out.  Before he did, he took a moment to assess his own condition.  He was hurt.  He thought he’d been unconscious for a while, and the pain in his head told him why.  But when he ran his hands through his hair, he only came up with a moderate amount of blood, so he called it good and took inventory of his limbs.  There was a fairly significant laceration across one upper arm, and an obviously-broken finger on his right hand, along with what he expected was some very impressive bruising to both legs that would have been shattered bones on a normal man. A few broken ribs, but what else was new?  They weren’t displaced, so they’d heal, same as always.  He wasn’t sure about his left ankle.  Could be broken, probably just badly sprained.  It hurt like a bitch, but he could walk on it.  Kind of.  

He made his way across the rough ground, plowed up by the nose of the Quinjet.  He’d tried to slide it in on its belly, but obviously that hadn’t gone so well.  The angle of the wreckage told Bucky why he was alive and Jeff Traynor wasn’t.  The right wing had dug into the ground, breaking off but leaving enough of a stub to pull the body of the jet toward and onto that side. The smell of jet fuel was strong, but the ground was wet and there was a massive black scar in the turf where it had clearly burned away, and the heavy rain was keeping most of the small fires he could see under control.  Still, he worried.

The tail of the Quinjet was several hundred feet away, which turned out to be a good thing, because the hole where it had been gave him a way into the cabin, if he could clear some of the debris out of the way.  

He peered in, between jagged metal and broken struts and a twisted fringe of wiring.  

“I’m comin’, I’ll get to you in a minute,” he grunted to whoever was moaning as he pulled at the wreckage.  He needed to make the gaping hole big enough to slide through without slicing off a limb on jagged aluminum.  “Call out, will ya’?  Who’s with me?”

There was at least one man alive in there.  Bucky noted with a jolt of fear that he didn’t hear Joss.  His stomach heaved at the thought that he might be about to discover her dead body.

It took another ten minutes to tear his way into the cabin and, when he did, he saw that at least one of the Secret Service agents was dead.  He was hanging from his seat, blood still running so freely from a jagged wound in his chest that Bucky could actually hear the drops splashing softly. The other one, the one who’d bitten his tongue, was the man Bucky had been hearing moan since he came to in the cockpit.  Singer, Bucky remembered.   Singer had a badly broken arm and a hideous head wound, but Bucky couldn’t see his legs for the debris on top of them.  He was conscious, though, and made sense when Bucky talked to him.  

“Hang on, pal, I’ll be back in just a second.  I just gotta check on everyone else.  You’ll be OK. They know we’re here.  Cavalry’s comin’, I promise.”

Bucky ignored the man’s pleas not to leave him and moved forward.  President Lattimore, who had been sitting forward of the dead agent, was hanging from his seat, which was now on the side of the plane.  Bucky could see that his color was terrible, and most of his formerly-white dress shirt was soaked in blood.  He was unconscious, but alive.  

Bucky was as gentle as he could be as he unharnessed the man and carried him back through the hole in the fuselage.  He laid him on the ground under what remained of the left wing, where he would at least be out of the rain.  He was still too close to the wreckage, but Bucky needed to get back inside.  

He needed to find Joss.

Moving as quickly as safety allowed, avoiding serrated edges of torn metal and the pool of blood still dripping from the dead man, Bucky looked everywhere.  He called her name.  He pulled up the broken seats and moved the shattered remains of work stations, looking underneath. Joss wasn’t there.

Where the hell was she? He tried to think about where she’d been sitting.  On the right side of the plane, he was sure of it.  Across from the dead agent still harnessed in his seat, whose blood was dripping more slowly, Bucky guessed because most of it was now on the downhill side of the plane.  

“Joss!”  He shouted, becoming frantic.  “Damn it, Joss, where the fuck are you?”

The agent who remained alive mumbled something.  At first, Bucky thought it was just another moan, but when he went over to him, Bucky could hear that there were words in whatever he was trying to say.  

“Unrrr arrrr.”

“What?  I don’t understand.”

The man pointed with a bloody wrist that, now that Bucky noticed it, had a bone sticking through the flesh.  Bucky followed where he was indicating and noticed that the fuselage was broken open, low down, at that point.  There was nothing but broken earth where the triangular separation in the bulkhead was, which is why Bucky hadn’t noticed light coming through.  It was actually a sizeable crack, now that he really looked at it, and in one edge of the hole was a hand.  A woman’s hand.  And it was moving.

Bucky ripped a hole in his shirt – and consequently his arm – getting back out of the fuselage to rush to the side of the Quinjet where the rupture was.  Approaching it, he saw Joss, covered in wet mud that made her look like a part of the ground torn up by the crash.  She was conscious and moving, but a large section of the plane was lying across her lower body.

Bucky slid to his knees next to her.  “Joss – thank God!  I thought…”

His voice broke, and he found he was perilously close to tears.  The wave of relief at seeing her alive hit him harder than anything about the crash had so far.  Seeing how stricken he was, she put a hand on his now mud-covered thigh and actually tried to smile.  Inconceivable as it seemed in the circumstances, he realized she was actually trying to comfort him.

“So that’s how you land a plane in the Army, huh?”  She croaked, wincing.  “No wonder you guys like to jump out first.”

Bucky barked a relieved laugh.  “Hey, any landing you walk away from is a good landing.”

“That is a low fucking bar, Barnes!”  She tried to laugh, but instantly appeared to regret it, as she put a hand to where the fuselage rested on what he guessed were her lower ribs.

“How bad are you hurt?” He asked, using the hem of his shirt to wipe mud from near her left eye.

“I’m, um…  I don’t think it’s bad.  I can feel everything.  This ground is really soft.  Feels like mud.  But I can’t get out from under here.  I’ve been trying.”  

Bucky began to look around, assessing how best to free her.  In the end, he decided he didn’t have much choice.  “I’m going to see if I can budge this piece, you try to crawl out. Can you do that?”

“Yeah.  I think so.”

He reached inside the crack and grabbed the edge of a strut with his metal hand, bracing his legs and lifting with everything he had.  His arm whined and rumbled, but it held.  Groaning with effort, red-faced and grimacing, Bucky managed to budge the wreckage, but only slightly.  He stayed where he was, keeping it from settling back.  After a few breaths, he bent his legs again and, teeth bared, eyes squinted almost shut, grunted loudly as he forced the wreckage to move a bit more. With a wet squelch and a harsh, pained cry, Joss pushed herself backward with her elbows, sliding her back through the mud until she was free from under the edge of the fuselage.

“Holy shit!” She wheezed, holding onto her left side and still lying on the wet ground, eyes shut and wincing.

Bucky turned quickly, panicking, and dropped to his knees next to her.  “Joss!  What?”

She let out something between a laugh and a weak cough.  “Did you just lift a plane off of me?”

Bucky heaved a sigh of relief and actually managed a grin.  “Well, not a whole plane.”

He leaned over her and took her hand, moving it gently away from her side.  He lifted the hem of the thin sweater she wore and saw that her entire left flank was already dark with bruising, with a bleeding gash near the center. He put his right hand flat against her ribs, trying not to hurt her as he palpated for breaks.  

“Ribs feel like they’re where they’re supposed to be, but that doesn’t mean they’re not cracked all to hell.  How bad does it hurt?”

She lifted up onto an elbow. “Doesn’t matter.  I’m OK.  How’s everyone else?”

Bucky, still holding her hand, put an arm behind her back to help her to a sitting position.  “Maybe you should just stay here, or I could carry you over where Lattimore is…”

“I can walk,” she grunted. “Just help me up.”

He did, and she took a few steps.  He noticed she continued holding her left side, and something about the way her right wrist hung was wrong.

“Yeah,” she said.  “I’m good to go.  But you’re limping.”

“Ankle.  It’s nothing.”

Joss moved to Bucky’s other side, the side with the sprained ankle.  She put her arm around his waist, nudging his arm across her shoulders.  “Here.  Lean on me. Man, we’re a pair, huh?”  

They both grinned as they stumbled back toward the stub of the fuselage, then around to the side where President Lattimore was lying under the remains of the wing, just as Bucky had left him.  

“You stay here with him,” Bucky said.  “I’ll go get the other guy.”

Joss’s head snapped toward him.  “Guy?  Only one?”

“Yeah,” he answered solemnly, helping Joss to lower down to the ground next to Lattimore.  “I’m sorry.  Singer, he’s alive.  The other two…”

Joss nodded, closing her eyes.  She turned toward President Lattimore, and Bucky felt something shift inside him when he saw her straighten her shoulders a bit as she leaned down to check on him. He recognized toughness and bravery. Hurt, drenched, and covered in mud, she was just going to get on with the job.  Time for feelings later.  Bucky gave himself the briefest of seconds to be grateful that she had survived and seemed to be relatively unhurt.  He really liked this girl.

It took him a long time to free Agent Singer’s legs from underneath the twisted metal of what had been a seat, held down over them by a deeply-bent strut that Bucky couldn’t unbend.  He ended up having to tear the chair apart, piece by piece, and with every effort, his arm increased in noise and decreased in power.  When he was finally able to pull the man’s legs free, he saw that one of them was crushed and appeared not to be bleeding from a deep gouge in his calf.  The flesh around it looked white and felt cold. Bucky felt a roll of nausea, but kept it to himself.  The man was going to lose that leg.

By the time he had pulled Singer free of the wreckage and drug him to the poor shelter of the wing, Bucky’s left arm was no longer working at all, and two helicopters were landing nearby. He didn’t pay much attention to either of those things, because Joss was kneeling, holding one of Lattimore’s hands in both of hers, her forehead resting on their hands where they lay on his chest.  She was shaking, and he could tell she was crying softly.  

“I’m sorry, Sir,” she whispered brokenly.  “I’m so sorry.”

It was clear that Lattimore was dead.  

Bucky dropped to his knees next to her and put his hand on her back.  “Wasn’t your fault.”

“I let him die, Bucky. He died on my watch…”

“Nothing you could’ve done. C’mere…”  Bucky moved his hand to her side and pulled her up to lean against him, and was gratified that she turned her face into his chest and let him hold her there, murmuring into her wet, muddy hair.  She put her arms weakly around him and they simply knelt there, waiting, while the sound of sirens became dimly audible in the distance.

They did what they could to help the helicopter crews load Singer onto a backboard and, from there, onto a gurney.  Singer was a big guy; it took all of them to haul the gurney across the broken, muddy ground.  Once he was inside, Bucky and one of the paramedics tried to get Joss to go with them to the hospital.  She wouldn’t hear of it.

“No!  I have to stay with the President!  I have to go with him.”

She simply walked around them, back across the ground to the wreckage where two more paramedics had put Lattimore into a body bag, and were about to zip it.

“Don’t do that!  That’s the President, you assholes! Treat him with some dignity.”  

They looked at each other and must have decided not to challenge the filthy, sodden woman holding her left arm to her side and with an obviously broken right wrist, bleeding from several places through her torn clothes.  They simply slid the open bag onto a backboard and waited as Bucky and the other paramedic jogged over to help lift the body onto the gurney.  Once they had dragged and bumped the gurney over the ground to the second helicopter, Bucky pulled Joss aside.

“You’re going to the hospital,” he growled.  

“I will, but…  I’m…  only one left…”  A confused look slowly began to cross her face.  “Bucky…?”

Bucky watched all the color and life drain out of Joss as her eyes went vacant and she simply melted to the ground.  With only one arm, the best he could do was catch her head so it didn’t slam into the muddy soil, which hurt like a mother with his broken finger.  The paramedics came running back and began to tend to her as the first ground vehicles began to be seen making their way toward the crash site across the rough, soggy ground.

*****

The team used the twenty minutes before the helicopter arrived to make rough plans.  Everyone agreed that someone needed to get into Jarman Arias’s underground facility and see what was going on down there.  If it was a blind alley, they needed to know that, and maybe it would help shed light on whatever the hell was going on.  They sure as shit needed some answers.  It didn’t take long to agree that Natasha and Clint were the best choice for that mission.  Sam half expected Anita to object, but she was a professional and a realist.  She knew that Clint and Natasha were much more experienced spies.  It was the right decision.  

Bruce and Catherine would stay at the tower and continue to work on learning what they could from the data on the phenomena.  

Sam was furious at being assigned to basically stay home and mind the store.  He did what Steve ordered, but he made sure everyone in the room knew how he felt about it.  He and Anita would do research into Arias, and into anyone who had any connection to attempts to control the weather, to see what that would yield.  

Controlling the weather wasn’t a new idea.  In fact, cloud seeding to produce rain was carried out in many countries, including the U.S.  But it was a huge leap from that to being able to create destructive storms like tornadoes and hurricanes, and there had also been an earthquake and a wildfire.  It was a long shot, but as pissed as Sam was at being stuck with the grunt work, he wasn’t about to say no.  Especially when Steve looked like he was just looking for an excuse to rip someone in two.

Everyone kept things as businesslike as possible.  Although none of them had ever seen him with such a fragile hold on himself, Steve was following his usual practice of focusing on planning and action, rather than his fears.  They wanted to help.  Besides which, nobody particularly wanted to find themselves with his fist down their throat for saying the wrong thing.

By the time Friday announced that the helicopter was landing, everyone had their orders.

*****

Tony’s phone rang just as they were entering the jet.  Steve, unbearably tense, felt the strident tone of the ring jangling through every nerve in his body.  He wanted to tear it from Tony’s hand and smash it.  He stopped moving blindly through the plane, hungry eyes on Tony, trying to will information out of him.  

Until he watched Tony close his eyes and choke back a sob.  

Steve’s legs gave out from under him and he fell bonelessly onto the plush, soft leather of the nearest seat as, wordlessly, Tony handed him the phone.  When he took it and put it to his ear, Steve found that he couldn’t form words.  All he could do was muttered an inarticulate “Uh,” paralyzed as he was between needing desperately to know what the person on the phone had to say, and wanting just as desperately not to.

“Hey, pal,” Bucky’s tired voice came to Steve’s ear.  “You there?”

Steve made another grunt. It was all he could do.  His hand flew to his eyes as he dissolved in tears.

“C’mon, Stevie,” Bucky said gently.  “You’re all right.  I’m OK. Just breathe for me, huh?”

It was a long time before Steve could do that, let alone speak.  Hundreds of miles away, from a couple of choked noises, Bucky had known exactly what Steve was feeling.  Of course he had.  And Steve had almost lost that.  Again.

“You fucker,” Steve finally managed to utter, in a strangled moan.  “I’m gonna fucking kill you when I get there.”

Bucky chuckled.  “Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t be too happy with me right about now.  That’s why I called.  I can’t talk, gotta take care of some things, but I knew you’d worry.  You’re comin’ here?”

“To kill you, you asshole,” Steve sobbed.  

“Yeah, all right.  I’ll look forward to that.  When you gonna get here?”

“I don’t…  Hell, I don’t know,” Steve shook his head, wiping his eyes and nose with a handful of tissues Sharon handed to him.  “Damn it, Buck!  You scared the shit outta me!”

“Well, I didn’t do it on purpose!  Cut me some slack here.  Just give the phone to Tony, or someone who can make sense right now, OK?  I’ll see you when you get here.”

For a moment, Steve just sat, holding the phone and listening to Bucky breathe.  He wasn’t sure he was going to be able to let it go.

“Steve,” Bucky murmured soothingly, the way he used to when Steve was panicking during an asthma attack. “I’m fine.  Everything’s fine, all right, pal?  Just give Tony the phone and pull yourself together.  Fuck’s sake, Rogers, nobody likes a crybaby.”  

Steve gave a wet, snotty laugh at that, and handed the phone to Tony, who took it and immediately began cursing Bucky in rapid-fire Stark vernacular for wrecking the Quinjet and interrupting his research and for making him have to be in the room when Steve learned he’d been in a plane crash.  Steve grinned a little at Tony’s version of caring, but paid little attention.  He slumped in his seat, staring blindly ahead and breathing in deep, hungry gasps that caught and stuttered every once in a while. Sharon simply knelt beside him, comforting him with her presence but saying nothing and not touching him.

He took her hand and slowly turned his head to look at her.  “Bucky’s OK,” he whispered.

“So I heard.”

Steve moved in slow motion as he stood to slide into the inside seat so Sharon could sit next to him. For much of the flight to Atlanta, he was silent.  Sharon didn’t say anything to him or anyone else about how hard he shook for the first hour, or the fact that he was still trembling when they landed.

*****

The call came in the late afternoon.  Anita usually didn’t answer calls from numbers she didn’t recognize, instead letting whoever it was leave a message if they were going to, so she could decide whether to call them back.  But for some reason, she picked up when Jarman Arias called.

She slapped her fingers lightly on the table to get Sam’s attention where he sat next to her at the table in the common room, staring into his laptop.  He looked up at her signal, and she mouthed, “Arias.”

She didn’t put the phone on speaker, but it wouldn’t have mattered, anyway, since they were speaking Spanish. Sam knew just enough Spanish, and heard his own name just enough, to be manic with curiosity, making faces, whisper-screaming questions at her, and generally making an ass of himself while she spoke calmly and, if his instincts were correct, flirtatiously.  It felt like hours before she hung up.

“What?  What the hell was that?”  Sam shrieked.

Anita smirked and shrugged with false nonchalance.  “We’re invited to a party.  Arias has a villa in the Keys, and we’re invited to a party.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Also, you’re my boyfriend but we’re very… flexible.”

Sam just blinked at her while she smiled.

“He said he’s been thinking about me, and he wants to see me again.  I told him I’m with you.  He got a little pissy, said he was having a party at his villa – that’s what he called it – in the Keys, and he’d fly me down there, but if I had a boyfriend... So I explained that we like to party, you and I, and what happened to the more the merrier?  So then he got all slimy, and said there’d be plenty of boys and girls there for you, too, and you can come as long as I’m there.”  

“Holy hell.”  

“Right?”  Anita stood, pulling him with her, and began dancing Sam around.  “Let Barton and Romanoff sneak into some basement.  You and me get to party in paradise!”

Sam laughed at this sudden new side of Anita, shaking his head a little.  “You realize this guy is all kinds of trouble?”

“So am I, Sam, and so are you.  C’mon, where’s your sense of adventure?”

Sam slid an arm around her waist, took her arm, and took control of the dance.  Anita instantly noticed that he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Just so you know, I ain’t havin’ no three-way with you and some crazy Colombian asshole who thinks he can control the weather.  I ain’t care what kinda cigars he got.”

“Duly noted.  Now tell me where you learned to dance like that.”

“Harlem, of course.  My people got moves, same as yours.”

“You know, Sam,” Anita purred as he led her through a complicated sequence that he led so well she followed step for step, “It’s kind of a shame it took a crisis like this to get you to notice me.”

Sam stopped abruptly and almost dropped her.  “Say what?”

[pwnyta]

Full Endgame spoilers/review:

(TL;DR: It was really fucking good. Theres some bad obviously but overall worth it. Even after reading the spoilers and feeling like I may not like it as much as I thought I would... I actually liked it more.)

- - So as I said I loved the movie I had some gripes but overall I thought it was one hell of a fun, entertaining movie. I'll go by each characters story in my review saving Cap and Tony for last.

Natasha- Honestly? Though I think the MCU dropped the ball on the 0G6 being a believable family... I think Nats role in this movie was sweet. I really like the scene where Tony Nat and Bruce were laying down talking about Strange and the stones. It was really cute but it really made me wish we got to see this earlier. Joss dropped the ball hard in AoU. Ive said it one and I'll say it again. AoU should have been the movie where the Avengers were a solid unit throughout the movie.Nats death was... heroic but honestly her and Clint beating the shit out of each other because neither could stand the thought of the other being sacrificed was kinda funny and cute which is jarring to the story. It kinda sucks that she was fridged before the final battle though.

Clint- What are the fucking odds that every one of his family was dusted? But w/e. Clint having a wild sword battle in Japan... it was ridiculous and weird and IDK what they were thinking with that scene but it was played really dramatically but I laughed? Cuz it was so over the top and silly... even though he just slit that guys throat and Nats like :c Clint~ honey no its fine... and they hold hands over the guys warm corpse. LMFAO WHAT!? Im at least happy his kids got him back if nothing else.

Bruce- ... Bruce with Hulks big green body? NICE. Thats gonna have some interesting fanart I can already tell and I lift my glass to you. I once tried to draw a little comic where Bruce and Hulk separated but also had swapped bodies.... so Bruce had Hulks body but I never did finish it I wonder if I still have it saved somewhere. Anyways. Honestly? I found Bruce in this movie to be equal parts funny and annoying? Like it was a bit jarring sometimes that he was so lighthearted despite everything.

Thor- When I read the spoilers I thought I was gonna really dislike Thor but watching it I understood where Thor was coming from and I couldnt really blame him for spiraling and its not like anyone close to him seemed to even check up on him despite clearly knowing where he was. Im really sad that it took all those years and only until he was needed for someone to try and talk Thor through what he was going through. Im not annoyed with Thor. Im annoyed with the rest of them (minus Tony and I guess Clint? Considering.). Bruce was his friend in Ragnarok, Nat keeps talking about them being family, and Steve is their leader where the hell were they? Unless im missing something... I guess Valkyrie too but shes been picking up his slack as a leader and was holding the Asgardians together so I can cut her some slack. ANYWAYS. Thor was kinda funny in the movie but it was kind of hard to enjoy his goofiness. It kind felt like Tony in IM2. Speaking of Im glad Tony seemed really tolerant of Thors drunk behavior... I was sure he would throw a lot of shots like Rocket did. I wish they had a moment to talk about Thor self medicating with booze... Tonys been there. I get why they couldnt really but.. His scene with Frigga was really nice. Frigga is a bad bitch raised by witches and shit.... she knows all~ A wise woman that Frigga.

Scott- HOLY SHIT Did I love Scott in this movie. He was soo funny and cute... and bullied a lot. You know I have a thing for easily bulliable character. And Scott just got spanked left and right. His helpless goofiness reminded me of Harry from KKBB a little. He bounced off everyone well and it makes me kinda wish he was one of the OG6 instead of Clint. He was more of the heart that kept the Avengers together than anyone. Also him and Tony talking about Caps ass? HILARIOUS. Bisexual icons honestly. 'That suit did nothing for your ass.' 'No one asked you to look!' 'I think you look great Cap as far as Im concerned thats Americas ass!' and then later Caps all 'That IS Americas ass.' Unbelievable. But his best scene is still him reuniting with Cassie. She was so big! Im so happy she got her dad back... but Bruces failed time travel machine scene.... that was a close second. 'Somebody peed my pants... idk if it was baby me or old me........ or me me.' Also the 'whats up regular sized man' scene is longer and more hilarious than the preview showed. FUCK YOUR TACO SCOTT. At least Bruce is nice to him. I ship GreenAnt a little. Rocket petting Scott and mockingly calling him a puppy. SAME.

Rhodey- JESUS RHODEY. Speaking of hilarious idiots. Im glad he got a bigger roll in this movie but he didnt hug Tony when he got back so whats the point? BUT W/E... He was hilarious and amazing. It was nice to see him step up as one of the sorta leaders after the snappening. But he was also A HUGE FUCKING DORK THE ENTIRE WAY THROUGH. Thinking that a secret cavern with a spooky name would be boobytrapped like in Indiana Jones and trying to convince Nebula to be careful. Naming a bunch of shitty time travel movies to prove a point about time travel (with Scotts help) and going back in time to kill baby Thanos...and Bruce was like 'yeah... no...' and him fucking TRASHING the magic of the iconic opening scene of the first GotG where Quill is dancing.... 'so hes an idiot?' RHODEY PLEEEEAAASSSEEEE have mercy. Him and Nebula are a trip. Also I made a note to mention Don Cheadles BEAUTIFUL soft voice. So here it is. I love Don Cheadles beautiful soft voice. He had too few scenes with Tony but their first scene when Tony starts freaking out and hes trying to get Tony to calm down was pretty good... and god that ending.... ;-; How come Rhodey got NO lines while Tony was dying? But also in the same position I dont think Id have any words either. I too would just cry. And did... for Tony. But yeah besides his lack of scenes with Tony I really loved Rhodeys scenes. I usually do. Hes adorable.

Nebula: Sweetie... You are just amazing. Shes legit one of the best most solid characters in the movie. The opening scenes between her and Tony? FUCKING adorable. Im sad we dont see more of them after the time skip. I also wish we got a longer scene of Neb and Rocket talking when she gets to earth... I guess just seeing them sit together sadly was enough to portray the emotions but.... I MEAN. More Nebula wouldnt hurt anyone. Having to see two tortured versions of Nebula was upsetting. Future Nebula who lost so much and past Nebula still under Thanos' thumb. 'You can change!' 'He wont let me' OOF. Im sad that past Nebula was killed... but appreciate that even in that moment past Gamora was upset to see her be killed. Im glad with Present Neb, Gamora was so easily heel-face turned. She loves her sister. Also their moment after past Gamora beats up present Quill was hilarious 'Really? This is the guy?' 'The choices were him or a tree.' WHAT ABOUT DRAX, NEBULA?! I know I said I may not watch any MCU movies after this but I might tune in for GotG3 for Nebula (and Thor).

Steve: I actually ENJOYED Steve in this movie for the most part. For the first time in any movie... even by himself I kind of enjoyed Steve. Especially the scene when hes fighting himself and his past self says 'I can do this all day' and hes like 'Tst... yeah I know... okay' Like he was sick of his own damn bullshit. And frankly? Same. Also him whispering 'Hail hydra' to get the scepter? Hilarious. I cant help but see it as a knock at that shitty Hydra Cap comic that everyone hated. But despite me enjoying Steve for most of the film... the MCUs inability to write a good romance and pretending like Steve and Peggys relationship was a peak or something completely undoes it all. It would still NOT BE GREAT regardless but the fact the RUSSOS are the ones who brought Sharon into TWS in the first place makes it SO MUCH WORSE that Steve dipped out. Steve should have moved on... even if it wasnt with Sharon. They could have at least MENTIONED HER but they knew they couldnt because then it would be too highlighted that Steve is a fucking FUCK BOY who used the niece of the woman he loved as a surrogate and that him going back to the past means hes gonna be meeting little Sharon at some point. Also? Really? Steve you have this whole new family you supposedly love and can live your life with but you rather go back in the past because the first woman who was nice to you was there? Move on. Its so fucking weird that hes so obsessed with her. You have your childhood friend and the rest of your new friends... and supposedly a girlfriend. IDK how anyone could be happy with that ending for him. But I guess its in character... remember the note he sent Tony 'I've been on my own since I was 18.' What about Bucky? He was there with you and you had family in the Avengers supposedly. Natasha seemed to think so. YOURE SUCH A FUCKIN SCUMBAG STEVE. Jesus.

Tony: First of all Id just LOVED his scenes with Nebula as I said. He sat there patiently teaching how to play paper football and held her win. It was REALLY cute. When he passed out she picked him up off the floor and sat him down on the chair and pat him. REAL CUTE. He nicknamed her 'The Blue Meanie' its cute and he tried to give her the last of their food but she insisted he eat it. Bobbos eyes never looked more gorgeous than in that scene where Carol finds them honestly. Tonys I told you so was really really sad. It had a lot of feeling like that scene in AoU when he laughs hysterically and starts ranting? Rhodey tried to calm him down but he just ripped into Cap. Also he yanked off his arc reactor and I FULLY JUMPED IN PANIC because I forgot it wasnt in him. I fully flinched. But he pulled his heart out and gave it to Steve and then passed out. Tony and Peppers daughter is ADORABLE. And her interactions with Tony are so sweet. Domestic Tony is lovely. I love that when Steve and the gang roll up on him Morgan runs out during their discussion and is like 'Mom told me to come and save you....' and hes like 'Well Ive been saved!' REAL CUTE. Also he swore and his daughter copied him and hes like NOOOOO!!!!!!! LMAO. LANGUAGE Tony. Tony is motivated to fix things seeing that pic of him and Peter. Hes such a softie. IM REALLY REALLY SAD that we finally see Pepper kinda GET Tonys need to be Iron Man and is like 'But could you rest?'. The one time she encourages him to go back to be Iron Man and he fucking DIES. Im so sad for Pepper. But that scene between them where shes like 'We'll be ok.... you can rest now.' FUCK. Im crying again. That scene between him and Steve- 'Someone shoula warned you~' 'You did...' 'Oh did I? Thank god Im here' has the same energy as 'Who taught you how to dance?' 'You did.' 'Well Ive done a marvelous job!' It was pretty great. Tonys nicknames for Scott are 'Pissant' and 'Thumbelina.' Im not OVERLY fond of his scenes with Howard. But honestly? My brother is the same way with our dad... he just chooses to forget the bad stuff and focus on the few good times. I cant do that but if it made Tony happier then VERY WELL. I wish Tony coulda talked to Jarvis too tho... just a word... anything? Best Tony scene is Peter babbling about how he musta passed out because Tony was gone and and and and Tony just hugs him so tightly and Peters hugs back and is like :D 'this is nice'! Though that STARK contrast of them after Tony uses the gauntlet... and Peter is like 'Mr Stark... we won... we did it... no Mr Stark...' Big Simba and Mufasa feels (and kind of Hughes and Elicia tbh). Not cool Disney. I was already crying. Rhodey was the first to reach Tony and Tony couldnt say ANYTHING to anyone and Rhodey just pets his cheek... Tony was just looking around as his family just has to watch helplessly as hes dying and Pepper tells him its ok. His funeral was really nice. He recorded a message for everyone kind of like his message for Pepper on the ship. Everyone was there... I think even Harley (Im really sad we didnt see them get reunited even once). The scene with Happy and Morgan was really sweet. 'I'll buy all the cheeseburgers you want....' It was cool to because... ya know.... Jon Favreau. He got a really beautiful end. I wish he could just retire and live with Pep and Morgan... but if he had to die... that was a really lovely sendoff. SO ALL IN ALL. Awesome movie. I didnt get to see past elderly Steve passing the shield off to Sam... I'll have to rewatch it again when theres a better version. Especially for that fucking STUNNING end battle. Even with the shitty cam I watched it looked AMAZING and I cant wait for it in HD.

[elcorhamletlive]

MCU Rewatch: Civil War

I love the banter between Sam and Nat. “Someone ever told you you’re a little paranoid?” lol

I also love Wanda floating Steve into the building. “Just like we practiced”. So cute.

lol Redwing. Sam/Nat is an underrated pairing.

Wanda does not set off the bomb. Rumlow does, and then Wanda only fails to contain it.

There are like. Lots of hypocrites in the MCU, but, man, does T’Chaka takes the cake. lol My dude... I don’t think you’re the best person to talk about indifference.

I don’t want to make this commentary all like “Steve DOES do this thing fandom complains about him not doing”, because this happens through the entire movie, but I want to point out the only thing Steve says to Wanda is that the Wakandans’ deaths are on HIM, not her. Then, when she says it’s on both of them, he doesn’t dispute it.

I’m gonna SPARE you all from turning this into a rant about how much I hate the Accords, but boy oh boy, does the way Ross essentially presents it as “sign it or retire” and the way he refers to Thor and Bruce as “nukes” show a little of who this character is, and how meaningful it was that we’re presented to the Accords by him.

I have a lot of feelings about how Steve is essentially surrounded by his closest friends on the world when he opens the text telling him of Peggy’s death, and his reaction is NOT to tell ANY of them what is happening, but instead leave to cry about it alone, pretty much hidden. Suffering in silence. Sam is with him at the funeral, but did Steve even tell him? Or did he find out in some other way? God this moment makes me so sad.

His red eyes as he carries the casket. So much pain.

I used to resent the fact that the Russos gave the “you move” speech to Sharon, but in context, it makes sense. In this moment it’s what gives him motivation to not sign. I feel like, if it were given to him, it would sounds petulant.

Chadwick Boseman is just SO COOL in this movie. His accent, his expressions. T’Challa gets such an amazing introduction to the universe here.

Also, I once posted that T’Challa breaks the Accords in Black Panther on the Seoul chase scene, but it never occured to me that he totally does it in this movie as well. lol Good for him.

I love Steve’s “come on, man” when he catches the guy Bucky dropped lol.

Wanda and Vision’s flirt is cute.

I can’t get over the way Tony looks at Steve on the pens scene. I can only imagine how shooting it went. “Ok, Robert, now we need you to try to convince him...” “And look hopelessly in love and in pain while I do it. Got it.”

GOD THIS SCENE! I love that Steve totally sees through that Tony is going to try to get him to sign and that he’s trying to appeal to his nostalgia by bringing up the pens, so he starts out pretty defensive; then Tony gets personal when talking about Pepper, and Steve drops his guard. His “I’m so sorry, Tony” is very sincere.

I’m thorn on whether Steve assuming Pepper might be pregnant when she and Tony aren’t even TOGETHER is an indication of him and Tony not keeping much touch, because the movie kind of implies by Pepper cancelling her appearance at MIT that the Pepperony break up was recent. Either way, I feel like the fact that Steve just assumes they’re madly in love and ready to have a baby is a great detail for fics to use.

I feel like people overlook Tony’s highly personal reasoning for signing the Accords. Sure, it’s not the only reason he signed, but it was a strong one.

I also have feelings about how Steve says nothing after Tony talks about Pepper - generally feeling the impact of Tony’s words -, so Tony kind of got through him in a way, and then Tony immediately stands up and creates distance between them, turning away and quipping “In her defense, I’m a handful”. Oh, Tony.

One thing this scene clearly DOES imply is that they’ve never discussed Howard before.

Also, Steve looks genuinely hurt when Tony says he hated him. Awww. And then his smile when Tony goes “no, you don’t”. I love this scene to bits.

I want to make my commentary more insightful then “this is gay as fuck”, but the way Tony says “sometimes I wanna punch you in your perfect teeth” is just TOO GAY TO FUNCTION. He legit looks like he’s actively holding back from jumping him. I can’t deal.

And then with “I don’t wanna see you gone” his voice turns so soft. And it GETS to Steve, clearly. He’s honestly considering signing it.

And then the Wanda exchange happens. There’s a lot to unpack here, but I don’t want to waste time going through stuff people say about it that everyone and their mother already knows I disagree with, so... I’m not gonna dwell on it too much.

I AM gonna dwell on “these documents can be amended”. How? And most importantly, why? Once they’re signed, WHY would 117 countries agree to renegotiate something that’s already going the way they wanted to, just for a couple individuals they clearly have no respect for since they basically pushed the law on them without even trying talking about it while they were being discussed? What reason do they have to add in safeguards at this point? I feel like Tony is totally bullshitting here, or not thinking through what he’s saying.

All discourse aside, I love this scene. And Tony looks in so much pain after it ends, and I love that he puts the sunglasses on even after Steve leaves. Using an armor because he’s upset.

Tony fighting Bucky with the gauntlet is such a cool moment. That is a very cool sequence.

The use of the superserum and the potential other Winter Soldiers is so well-used as a red herring, both by Zemo and by the movie. It sets up the final twist so well.

“I can’t control their fear, only my own” I love this line.

No hate for Sharon, but damn that’s an awkward kiss.

Scott meeting Steve is an eternal mood.

The airport fight is so fun. Such a great use of so many different characters.

It’s bizarre that the movie clearly says Tony was in the wrong, has Tony VERBALLY acknowledge this, and his fandom sitll somehow denies it. lol

T’Challa mentions there are people on the way when he holds Zemo down, so the movie does respond to the question of how did Tony come back from Siberia.

The final scene in the bunker is top notch. It’s painful and hurtful and so well-acted. This movie really hits well on the two buttons of why you’d make superheroes fight. There’s both the fun “what if X fought Y”s stuff, and the emotionally heavy stuff.

Steve’s apology in the letter is... pretty much as apologetic as apologies go. He says “I’m sorry, I know I hurt you, I thought I was going for you but I was just sparing myself”. Sure, he could’ve gone on about his reasons, but... it’s an apology, and not a “i’m sorry, but...” type of apology. I feel like anyone hoping to see Steve grovelling will be disappointed, but also, I don’t think Tony is expecting him to do that in canon, either. I feel like the apology is there, and while things obviously aren’t fine, I don’t think it’s fair to act as if it isn’t.

And it’s over! I actually like this movie a lot. The pacing is airtight - it’s two and half hours long but it flies by. There are so many fun moments, but the emotional parts still hit very well. Also, I feel like a lot of bad discourse about it (especially about Steve) comes from people just... not rewatching it, and forgetting what actually happened other than the main events (the same applies to AoU). It’s a good movie. I agree with the criticism that it’s not really a Steve movie, it’s more of an Avengers movie with slightly more of a focus on Steve, but I think the quality outweights this concern, imo. 

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Heritage - Part 9

Description: Steve Rogers wakes up in the 21st century to learn that he missed more than he could ever realize.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader; Steve Rogers & Y/N [Platonic]

Word Count: 3,000

Previously On...

Y/N slowly came to and felt the vibrations of a car. She could tell they were moving at a high speed. But the car quickly went to the back of her head when she realized she wasn’t laying down on a seat. She was laying across someone’s lap, their arms wrapped around her protectively. She felt the cold touch of metal tracing circles across her skin.

Bucky. She was laying in Bucky’s lap.

Her eyes fluttered open to find that Bucky’s bright blue eyes were already staring back at her.

“Hey…” She whispered without thinking.

“Hi,” Bucky whispered back, with a little side smirk.

He knew that she’d be okay. But his body lifted in relief at her finally coming back to consciousness.

Steve must’ve heard, because he was quickly turning around from the driver’s seat to look at her.

“You’re awake. How ya feelin’?” Steve knew better than to act too concerned or sound like he was babying her.

“Fine.” Y/N answered quickly and immediately tried to sit up.

That was a mistake and she attempted to hide her grimace when her head was instantly met with a raging migraine.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Bucky warned. “Take it easy, doll.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered to the the front of the car to see that both Steve and Sam’s jaws were clenched after hearing Bucky call her ‘doll’.

“I’m fine.” Y/N snapped back and scooted to the other side of the backseat so she was no longer in Bucky’s lap. The car was small though, and she really couldn’t escape anyone even a little bit.

Then Y/N looked up and caught her reflection in the rear-view mirror. The right side of her face was black, blue, and yellow. The bruises were already healing from the downgraded serum. But they still looked awful.

Y/N held her breath, already knowing that Bucky probably felt terrible and fully responsible for the injuries.

When she glanced over at him, his eyes were trained straight ahead and looking at the road. It was obvious he didn’t want to meet her gaze anymore. His relief at seeing she was okay was short-lived. 

“Where are we going?” Y/N finally broke the silence.

“Leipzig/Halle Airport.” Sam answered as he glanced behind to look at her.

“We gotta make a stop before that though.” Steve added.

Y/N just nodded and looked at Bucky again. But he was still pretending she wasn’t there.

Steve explained the situation, told Y/N how Zemo infiltrated the base and said the words that turned Bucky into the Winter Soldier. Bucky stayed quiet the entire time, never adding anything to Steve and Sam’s breakdown. He didn’t even chime in when Steve got to the part about Hydra freezing other Winter Soldiers.

A few hours later, Steve pulled off the highway and stopped beneath the underpass. Y/N kicked Steve’s seat up and escaped the backseat as soon as he got out. She muttered something about needing air before walking in the opposite direction of Sharon and Steve.

Bucky sighed as he turned around and looked out the back windshield to watch her.

“Man, if you don’t get your ass out of this car and go talk to her, I’ll beat the crap out of you.” Sam finally piped up after a minute.

Bucky glared at the back of his head, since Sam didn’t even bother to look at him as he gave the threat.

“Then can you move your seat up, so I can get out?” Bucky countered darkly.

“No.”

Bucky sighed as he scooted to the other side and got out from Steve’s door. When he walked to Y/N, her back was to him as she leaned against the cement support beam.

“You okay?” He asked her softly.

Her expression was annoyed. “Can you blame a girl for not wanting to see her cousin and grandpa make out?”

Bucky looked back at Sharon and blinked. This all got stranger and stranger.

But he just nodded his head, as he looked at the ground and kicked some rocks aside.

“Why didn’t you tell me about your… connection to Steve?”

Y/N’s ground her teeth together. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play coy, Y/N. You never stopped me from thinking that you and Steve were together.”

Y/N finally turned to him and glared. “Why does it matter? Are you saying that you would’ve slept with me that night if you’d known I was Steve’s granddaughter, instead of Steve’s girlfriend?”

“That’s not fair.” Bucky shot back.

“Look, we don’t need to have this talk. I get it. I thought there was something between us. But clearly I imagined it.” Y/N’s body tensed up, showing that she was trying to hide her emotions. “I threw myself at you, like a total fucking bimbo. I don’t need to relive the rejection again, okay?”

“I almost killed you.” Bucky whispered, his voice shaking.

It made Y/N’s eyes flicker up to his.

“Those bruises could’ve easily been a broken neck… or something else that would’ve killed you.” He murmured as his eyes filled with tears. “Everything Hydra put in my head is still there. And I don’t think it’ll ever be gone.”

Then Bucky took in a deep breath. “You didn’t imagine it.”

Y/N stopped breathing. It was the closest thing she’d ever get to Bucky admitting his feelings for her.

“But I can’t.” He declared. It sounded like he was going to be sick. “I just can’t. And I’m sorry. But I have to keep you - ”

“If you say that you have to ‘keep me safe,’ I will punch you in the face, James Buchanan Barnes.” Y/N interrupted.

So he said nothing instead.

Then Y/N looked past Bucky to see that Steve was finally making his move on Sharon, locking his lips with hers. 

Bucky followed her gaze.

“Steve just became America’s most wanted. He’s a criminal. Yet, somehow, even he’s not scared to let himself love the woman he wants.” Y/N knew it was a low blow. But she didn’t know what else to do. And, as childish as it was, she wanted to hurt Bucky, like he was hurting her.

Without waiting for a response, Y/N shoved past Bucky and back toward the car.

Sharon watched Y/N join her and Steve. She walked over to her trunk and handed Y/N a duffle bag. Y/N unzipped it to see all of her weapons that had been confiscated by Sharon’s team were in the bag, along with dozens of new ones. Below the weapons was a neatly folded combat suit.

“Thanks, cuz. You know me too well.” She winked at Sharon. Then she raised an eyebrow to Steve. “I’ll go back to the car if you two want to keep making out.”

“The mouth on that one…” Steve muttered.

Sharon laughed. “Yeah, I wonder where she got that from.”

Steve playfully glared at her.

Then the two of them watched as Bucky got back into the car too. But Y/N refused to even look at him.

“What’s going on there?” Sharon asked as she crossed her arms.

“Honestly?” Steve sighed. “I have no idea. But I’m not too happy about it.”

“Y/N is a grown woman, Steve.” Sharon argued.

“Yeah, but you don’t know Bucky. I might not even know him anymore.”

“Then maybe you should talk to him. I have a feeling that guy from back in the day is still in there.” Sharon offered.

“That’s what I’m worried about.” Steve mumbled under his breath. Images flashed in his mind of Bucky flirting with every pretty dame he could find, of him constantly having to remind Bucky of their names because there was so many. 

————

Once they got to the airport and exchanged pleasantries with the rest of the team, everyone split up to change and prepare.

Steve ended up having a moment alone with Bucky.

Anyone with half a brain would be able to sense the tension.

“I know you want to ask, so just ask.” Bucky finally ended the silence.

“What happened between you two?”

“Nothing.” He answered firmly.

“It’s not nothing. I see the way you look at her.” Steve argued confidently. “And I saw the way you protected her in the tunnel, back in Berlin.”

Bucky’s shoulders dropped, knowing Steve deserved to know the truth.

But he took his time, thinking about what he wanted to say before actually opening his mouth. 

“I knew she was following me,” Bucky explained softly. “But then I kept letting it happen. I was alone and she…she was the only person who knew who I really was. It was selfish. I know that. I thought if I let her follow me, but kept my distance, she’d stay safe.”

“But you didn’t keep your distance.” Steve pointed out.

“I tried. But she wouldn’t let me.” Bucky shook his head. “I could’ve tried harder. I know that. But Y/N - she…” The words died out. He knew he was walking a fine line between what he should share with Steve, his best friend, and Steve, Y/N’s protective grandfather.

“Do you love her?” Steve boldly asked.

Bucky just looked at him, pleading Steve not to make him answer.

But their conversation was interrupted by the airports alarm going off. Bucky listened to the foreign language and knew they were evacuating.

Steve gave Bucky a look that told him this conversation wasn’t over. But they both silently moved to rejoin the group.

Bucky’s gaze instantly found Y/N.

Her hair was pulled away from her face. She was wearing the combat suit Sharon had given her, along with fingerless gloves. There were countless weapons on her body. She was already flipping a knife in her hand.

Bucky wondered if Steve felt the same way when he first saw Peggy in uniform.

His eyes didn’t leave Y/N, as they all listened to Steve’s plan.

When Steve finally released them, Bucky quickly grabbed Y/N’s elbow before she could depart.

“Be careful out there, okay?” He told her tenderly.

Y/N wanted to snap back at him, say something rude. But his blue eyes were so soft and worried for her. She couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“You too.” She managed to mumble before walking away. She turned around and gave him one last glance before disappearing from his sight.

Sam grabbed his attention then, looking annoyed for having to wait even a moment.

The two men walked through the abandoned terminal in silence.

“You know, she has the same serum you and Steve do. It’s not as strong, but damn, is it there.” Sam told him. A part of him just wanted to shove it in Bucky’s face that he knew things about Y/N that he didn’t.

Bucky glared at him. It earned him a mischievous smirk from Sam.

“What I’m saying is that you don’t have to worry about her. She can take care of herself.” Sam added with only sincerity.

Bucky stared at him for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden gesture of kindness.

The battle was utter chaos.

Friends were fighting each other, strangers weren’t sure how hard to push, and Bucky couldn’t help but feel like it was all his fault. His eyes kept searching for Y/N every time he could spare a glance. To his relief, she was always winning. Sam was right when he said Y/N could hold her own.

Then Sam told Steve that some of them had to stay behind for Bucky and him to actually make it. Steve and Bucky shared a look. They each knew what the other was thinking. But they had to go. So the two of them sprinted forward.

“Y/N, you have to make it.” Wanda suddenly yelled out as she tried to hold the falling building that was threatening to block their path to the jet.

Bucky and Steve suddenly looked behind them to see that the Black Panther was racing after them, but Y/N was sprinting behind him, as well. She managed to tackle him before he could attack Bucky.

They were just at the edge of the hangar when Y/N rolled off him and then put herself between T’Challa and the two men. Her eyes were so trained on her enemy that she didn’t even realize Natasha was there as well.

“Get to the jet.” Y/N hissed to them, without taking her glare off T’Challa.

“Get out of my way, child. This is between me and Barnes.” T’Challa warned.

Y/N just tilted her head in challenge.

She was about to charge him when something whizzed past her face and landed on T’Challa, electrocuting him.

Y/N, Bucky, and Steve whipped around to see Nat with her arm raised.

“That won’t be necessary.” She said darkly. “What are you waiting for? Get out of here!” Nat scolded when the three of them remained frozen.

“N-Nat…” Y/N stuttered, knowing how much this betrayal could hurt her old mentor.

“Go, Y/N.” She said as she shocked T’Challa once again.

Next thing Y/N knew, Bucky was practically dragging her away. Now that she was at his side, he wasn’t letting her go.

Bucky sat at the back of the quinjet as he watched Steve and Y/N pilot the quinjet together.

It remained eerily quiet on the aircraft.

Y/N could practically feel the guilt and remorse Bucky was feeling as the events of the day finally settled.

“What’s going to happen to your friends?” Bucky finally asked.

Steve and Y/N looked at each other.

“Whatever it is, I’ll deal with it.”

Y/N remained quiet, somehow knowing that she understood the severe consequences they would face more than even Steve did. She’d worked for this government, in this world, in this time longer than Steve. There was still a naivety to him.

“I don’t know if I’m worth all this to you.” Bucky finally answered.

It was the first time Y/N heard him sound weak.

Steve’s heart broke from hearing it. “What you did all those years…wasn’t you. You didn’t have a choice.”

Y/N forced herself to turn around and look at Bucky. Her eyes urged him to believe the truth that Steve was telling him.

“I know,” Bucky agreed. His eyes flickered to hers before saying, “But I did it.”

Steve held his breath, not knowing what else to say to his broken friend.

Bucky got up, needing to move away instead of sitting in the same place. Y/N watched him move to the back of the quinjet, where the lights were dimmed and he stood in shadow.

Steve saw Y/N fidgeting in her seat. She wanted to go to him. But she was torn.

“Go talk to him.” Steve finally told her quietly.

“He doesn’t want me.” She said it as in he didn’t want to talk to her right then. But they both knew she meant he didn’t want her at all, not now or not ever.

“He’s scared.” Steve told her. “And he’s trying to protect you. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you.”

Y/N looked at him in shock. Was Steve really trying to push them together?

“So go talk to him.” He repeated.

She nodded, almost in embarrassment, and then unbuckled her seatbelt to go to the back of the quinjet.

Bucky was sitting on a pulldown seat in the shadows.

Y/N pulled down another right next to him.

“All that time following you, I should’ve made it clear to you that you aren’t to blame for any of that shit you did.” She sighed.

“I killed children… ruined families… dismantled governments… you don’t get to just brush all of that aside, Y/N. Someone has to take responsibility and I think the man who pulled all the triggers should be the one to do it.”

“You weren’t a man.” Y/N snapped almost too harshly. “When someone drops a bomb on a country, killing thousands of people, does the world blame the bomb? No. They blame the person who ordered the attack. You were a bomb, Bucky, a weapon. Hydra’s to blame, not you. It should never be you.”

“Why is it so easy for you to forgive me?” Bucky finally whispered.

“Because I…” Y/N stopped for a moment, “care about you.” But her eyes told a different story.

Bucky watched her, blue eyes taking in every detail about her. She was tired and sweaty from battle. But he still thought she looked as beautiful as ever. 

“What do I have to do to keep you on this jet when we land?” Bucky whispered with utter desperation.

Y/N was shaking her head before he even finished the question, “You know I’m not going to let you and Steve face this alone.”

Bucky sighed with a smirk. “I had a feeling you’d say something like that.”

Then his eyes were skipping between her eyes and lips.

Bucky pulled her to him by the back of her neck and crashed his lips against hers.

This kiss was different than that night in Romania. 

Now Bucky didn’t hold back his feelings. Last time, he was simply responding and allowed Y/N to take control. But now he was absolutely the one in control.

Y/N had been too drunk and hazy to realize how amazing of a kisser Bucky was. But now the realization was hitting her like a freight train.

Eventually Bucky had to pull himself away, remembering that they weren’t completely alone. Not only that, their moment was being somewhat witnessed by his best friend and Y/N’s grandpa.

“Please, please, please be careful out there, doll. Stay close to me and Steve.” Bucky all, but begged.

Y/N was still in a daze from their intoxicating kiss that all she could do was nod her head.

“We’re landing in 10.” Steve called back to them.

By some miracle, his eyes were too trained on the sky ahead to notice the passionate kiss the two of then had just shared.

----------

Part 10 [Epilogue]

Write me a book review, write me a diary entry. <3333

[funkymbtifiction]

QuickTypes: Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase 2/Part 2

IRON MAN 3

Maya Hansen - INFJ

Maya is a woman of vision, a scientist looking to accomplish great things and change the world. She is fond of making comparisons, very definite in what she believes is going to happen, and consciously trying to manipulate future events, whether immediate or right down the line, to go the way she wants them to. She sees how things are connected and aspires to use those connections. She has a good sense of other peoples’ emotions, and has a playful side that enjoys manipulating them and seeing their reactions (like when she pretends to have a kid waiting in the car), and is capable of assuming different emotional aspects in order to convince people of which version of herself she needs them to see right now. She’s a logical scientist constantly chasing answers and figuring out how everything fits into a bigger picture (Ni/Ti); she hopes to benefit the maximum number of people possible with her discoveries and make the world a better place for all mankind, but not out of any internal sense of ethics; Tony calls her out for her lack of internal ethics, and she appears to derive her sense of right or wrong entirely from the outside (Fe).

Aldrich Killian - ENTJ

Killian is driven towards achieving his long-term goals by whatever means necessary. He’s objective, logical and sums up everything around him dispassionately in order to discover the most immediate means of getting things to go his way (Te, though a negative version of it.) He has a grand vision for how things will work; he recounts the night on the rooftop when Tony ditched him as a moment of inspiration, and instead of clinging onto that past experience as a subjective painful one, he sees how it ties into the greater scheme of his life and tells Tony thank you for that pain (Ni). He wants to achieve grand things and rule from the sidelines, since he realized that night that his anonymity gave him great power. He tries to keep his emotions out of what he does; he’s attracted to Pepper and harbors a grudge against Tony, yet he still offers Tony a job in EXTREMIS since Tony’s the only one to ever figure it out (inferior Fi).

Happy Hogan - ISFJ

Happy’s a stitchler for rules and etiquette. He believes in wearing your badge, playing by the established order, and working within the system. He wishes things could go back to the way they used to be, regretting Tony’s involvement with the Avengers; he has a nostalgia for the old-fashioned, as Tony recounts Downton Abbey is his favorite show (Si-dom). He’s quick to sense peoples’ emotions and act on what he perceives. He calls people out for breaking the rules and acts as a kind of tattle-tale. He mostly reacts to the moment, to what he sees, but occasionally displays an inner intuition and follows his gut (inferior Ne.)

Mandarin/Trevor Slattery - ESTP

Slattery is a man of momentary pleasures and little thought for consequences; he’s a lifetime drug addict who will do anything for a fix, a luxurious apartment, beer and girls; he cheers for his favorite sports team on TV even when he’s got a gun to his head. He’s an actor and one who lives in the physical embodiment of a role, who enjoys the attention and flattery of a captive audience - even if that audience is literally captive, or if he’s being led to prison while they stare in awe. He does what’s practical to get what he wants (Se/Ti) and seems to have no internal sense of ethics. His Fe comes out mostly in how he enjoys attention and adulation. He gets into his acting rules, throwing his Se and Fe into the creation of the grand idea, which may also appeal to his inferior Ni.

THOR THE DARK WORLD

Malekith - ISTJ

Malekith is still trying, after millennia, to recreate the world of darkness he was born in, to turn e everything back to the way it was. He shows allegiance only to the past, only to trying to mold the world into the one he remembers and needs (negatively influenced Si dominant). He’s objective and coldly determined to do whatever it takes to reach his goals, which includes sacrificing the lives of his own people in order to escape and win against Odin, something that causes Thor to compare him and Odin (ESTJ), since they both display this negative Te trait (my goal is more important). He doesn’t have much of a plan at play, though; it’s basically just follow the laid-out steps, get the same weapon I had before, and do the same thing I did the first time. No revising the plan, just following out the order.  

Ian - INFP

Ian’s main trait is constantly insisting that Darcy call him by his actual name, instead of just ‘the intern’. He has a strong sense of identity and is likely motivated internally, by the people he cares about. He’s fairly sweet, affectionate and friendly in general, and seems to be interning with Jane and Darcy for the sake of working with those he respects rather than much interest in science (Fi dominant). He’s quick to calculate possibilities and notice connections between things, which proves useful in locating Selvig (Ne aux). He’s calculating enough to utilize the zero-gravity effects in the battle to save Darcy’s life (using his Te-inferior logic there.)

CAPTAIN AMERICA THE WINTER SOLDIER

Sam Wilson ESFP

https://funkymbtifiction.tumblr.com/post/146723168685/captain-america-sam-wilson-falcon-esfp

Sharon Carter ENFP

Sharon is not a woman who accepts things blindly. She asks questions, she digs deeper, she searches for connections. She won’t just blindly march to what Pierce is telling her and the agents to do; she needs to know why. She keeps a lot of secrets and a lot of the things that matter the most to her closely guarded; she never told anyone she was related to Peggy Carter, because of how much that reputation would be to live up to. She fights for what she believes in, regardless of what others expect; she does what’s right, or what she sees as right, in her heart. (Fi). She’s authoritative and quick to issue commands; put in a definitive position as a SHIELD agent and assigned to be in charge of many tasks. (Te tert). She does look to her past and her childhood for inspiration, particularly to Aunt Peggy and the words she grew up with.

Alexander Pierce INFP

Pierce is mostly motivated by his own internal feelings about right and wrong, as warped as that moral compass may be. It’s very important to him that things and people have their own separate identities - he’s introduced correcting the council about the enemy’s political identity. He wants to take care of people and make the world a better place; he believes in this personally because he saw what Nick Fury was willing to do for that protection. He tries to appeal to the Winter Soldier’s internal sense of righteousness, talking about HYDRA’s grand goals. Fi dominant villain. He sees quick connections between things, is very speedy to spot how various things could go wrong and in what way they could connect. He has some symbolic ideas about his plan, but not in an Ni-dominant sense; he doesn’t talk so much about his grand vision, more about how the past influences him in the here and now (Ne/Si). His Te is cold an ruthless, but doesn’t show up that much in his personality; it’s mostly an afterthought, utilized to  control things when they need to be controlled.

Brock Rumlow ISFJ

Rumlow generally follows orders and relays information. He’s obedient to the system and works diligently within it, day by day, to achieve the  goals his bosses have set out. He relays things in great detail and is very specific in all incidents. He acts based on how things have been before. He’s good at emotional manipulating, appealing to Steve’s feelings about Bucky or claiming his attack isn’t personal in order to manipulate Cap into a position of vulnerability. He’s aware enough of consequences to take Steve and the others someplace private in order to avoid killing them in public.

GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY

Peter Quill ENTP

https://funkymbtifiction.tumblr.com/post/107133607337/guardians-of-the-galaxy-peter-quillstar-lord

Gamora ISTP

https://funkymbtifiction.tumblr.com/post/112321677020/guardians-of-the-galaxy-gamora-istp

Drax the Destroyer ESTP

https://funkymbtifiction.tumblr.com/post/112805205720/guardians-of-the-galaxy-drax-estp

Rocket Raccoon ENTJ

https://funkymbtifiction.tumblr.com/post/112169635100/guardians-of-the-galaxy-rocket-raccoon-entj

Groot ISFP

https://funkymbtifiction.tumblr.com/post/112353454564/guardians-of-the-galaxy-groot-isfp

Ronan the Accuser ISTJ

https://funkymbtifiction.tumblr.com/post/112898961809/guardians-of-the-galaxy-ronan-istj

Nebula ISTJ

https://funkymbtifiction.tumblr.com/post/112532821037/guardians-of-the-galaxy-nebula-istj

Yondu Udanta ISFP

Yondu is primarily concerned with two things: his reputation among the Ravagers, and his caring for Peter Quill. He does care about Peter, but doesn’t want to admit it because that will make him look weak. He sees his own act of compassion on Quill from years ago - that is, not allowing the Ravagers to eat him - as some kind of great nobility and is enraged that Quill isn’t grateful. He’s very vulnerable to his feelings for Peter and easily manipulated by them (Fi dominant). He reacts to the moment a lot and enjoys adventure, taking chances, and utilizing whatever’s around him right now for the better (Se aux).

AVENGERS AGE OF ULTRON

Wanda Maximoff ISFP

https://funkymbtifiction.tumblr.com/post/133598214020/the-avengers-age-of-ultron-wanda-maximoff-isfp

Pietro Maximoff ENFP

https://funkymbtifiction.tumblr.com/post/134336945843/avengers-age-of-ultron-pietro

Vision INTJ

https://funkymbtifiction.tumblr.com/post/134594006147/avengers-age-of-ultron-vision-intj

Ultron ISFP

https://funkymbtifiction.tumblr.com/post/118942309140/avengers-age-of-ultron-spoilers

ANT MAN:

Scott Lang ISTP

https://funkymbtifiction.tumblr.com/post/143584777129/ant-man-scott-lang-istp

Hope Van Dyne INTJ

https://funkymbtifiction.tumblr.com/post/162086956565/ant-man-hope-van-dyne-intj

Hank Pym  ESFP

Pym is generally a man of action, someone who reacts to the situation at hand and seeks the most direct way out of it. (Se, with tertiary Te thrown in.) He’s motivated a great deal by his inner emotions and fears, and perceptive into those of others. He appeals to Scott’s desire to see his daughter again, to other peoples’ sense of morality, rather than simply trying to logically persuade them - although he’s willing to do that to if emotions don’t work. He puts his love for his daughter above the good of the mission - Hope would be the better person to carry out the heist, but Hank cannot lose her and therefore uses Scott. (Fi aux, Te text). He’s quick to manipulate circumstances in his favor, and has a sense of how things will fall out in the future. However, he doesn’t use Ni all that much; it’s most likely his inferior function, since he isn’t interested in any grand schemes for the future and mostly intent on solving the problem at hand; he rarely speaks in metaphors or discusses how symbolism works into his plans. He just executes them.

Darren Cross ESFJ

Cross is very eager to please others and wants to be applauded and adulated for his accomplishments. He discusses his feelings a lot, out loud, and doesn’t do much to hide who he truly is. He’s mostly an affable villain who enjoys making small talk with/getting to know his opponents. He wants to make people happy and bring in others into his joy, and to support what each member brings to his team (Fe dominant.) He bases most of what he does on the past and the legends he heard when he was younger; he follows what Hank did to create much the same design. (Si auxiliary) He enjoys ideas and new possibilities, and although he’s quite nostalgic and receptive to what he experienced before, he’s also eager to get going on new plans for the future.  (Ne tertiary).

Phase 3 in Progress! Would love to see submissions for QuickTypes (or full on types) of Civil War, Dr Strange, Guardians Vol 2, and Spider-Man Homecoming - and will probably compile any submissions into Part 3/Phase 3. Keep em coming -mysterylover123

[buuckybuuchananbarnes]

Red Drabble

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Words: 1,954 A/N: This drabble came to me as I was making fun of a challenge. I never even thought about how I could post this on Valentine’s Day until a couple days ago. As always, thank you to @lethargicprofessor for editing.  Warnings: None, just a lot of fluff.  Red. A color that, to many, symbolized love. The color of hearts, passion between lovers, heat exchanged in the throes of a tight embrace. These were some of the images the color red invoked to those on Valentine’s Day.

But to Bucky, the color red symbolized only one thing. The images that came to mind were not welcome ones, but ones he had desperately tried to escape. To Bucky, the color red meant blood, and the lives he had taken.

Bucky spent years trying to deal with the pain that came from his life as the Winter Soldier. He had given up all hope that he was ever going to feel normal again.

Normal was such a cruel word. Normal signified a life he had once known. A life filled with laughter, and romance. A life filled with a family. However, Bucky did not know that he would soon come to not only know, but to feel, normal much sooner than he realized. 

When Bucky met you, his world changed.

You were recruited into the Avengers a year after Bucky was no longer susceptible to his trigger words. Steve recruited you after learning how your powers worked. At first, you had seemed like a normal girl. What he didn’t realize however, was that you had the ability to take other’s pain, whether it was emotional or physical, and eradicate it. For you, your powers didn’t drain you, but made you stronger as you took in those negative feelings.

It was only when you took in extremely negative feelings, would your powers turn on you, thus causing you the same pain that your subject felt. Neither you nor Steve had known about it until one night, you took on Bucky’s negative feelings after a horrible nightmare. Bucky’s pain had been so intense that you had screamed out in agony – thus having Bucky promise you that you would never take his pain upon yourself again.

What Bucky couldn’t understand though was that even after this experience, you weren’t afraid of him. Every time you talked to him, it was like he was back in the 1940’s, just a kid, without a single care in the world. Every time you laughed with him, or smiled at him, it was like being on a roller coaster.

Bucky was afraid of his affection for you. He had numerous ladies in the past, but none of them ever made him feel like you did. He tried to brush it off, to tell himself that it was nothing to worry about. But as you opened up to him, and as you allowed him to come into your heart, he had no choice but to let you in as well.

The two of you began your relationship on Valentine’s Day. Bucky hadn’t even realized what day it was when he asked you to be his girlfriend. He fixed you both dinner, and the two of you sat curled around each other watching television. He had asked you, very timidly, and you hadn’t even hesitated.  

That had been four years ago, on the day. Stark was throwing a Valentine’s Day ball, and you were looking forward to it. Stark’s parties were always so lavish, they made you feel like an absolute princess. It gave you an excuse to get dolled up, and to wear long evening gowns that you had only ever seen on television before becoming an Avenger.

Tonight you wore a long black evening gown that trailed behind you on the floor. You wore white gloves with diamond bracelets on top, a gift from Bucky on your birthday. Your hair was done up in a beautiful bun with a braid that wrapped around the bottom of it. Your makeup had been done by Natasha and she had made it spot on. You heard a knock on the door and knew that it was Bucky.

Bucky looked phenomenal. He was wearing a black suit and had slicked his hair back. He gave you a smile, and reached his arm out to you. You linked your arm in his, and made your way down the stairs. Walking outside, you saw that there was a limo for the two of you.

“Bucky did you-?“ You began, but he cut you off, pulling you into him for a kiss. The kiss was like nothing you’d felt in your four years of dating. It was a flurry of emotions that he was relaying to you. Adoration, lust, and a little bit of fear. You took his head between your hands and looked into his big blue eyes, the emotions you had just felt shining through the kiss relayed in his gaze

The two of you stepped into the limo, and he offered you champagne. You knew it was Valentine’s Day, but Bucky was going all out tonight. You smiled, and watched as the sweet alcohol swished in the small glass. Taking a sip, you felt yourself lighten up slightly.

By the time you had finished your champagne, you arrived to the event. The chauffer helped Bucky out of the car. Bucky turned to you and offered you his hand. You took it and managed to gracefully get out of the limo. The two of you walked up to the event, cameras flashing at every angle at the two Avengers. The paparazzi had called you the ‘two lovebirds’, and you were okay with that. You didn’t want to hide your love for Bucky.

You walked into the building and were taken aback at the sight. The whole place was covered in red, pink, and white. There were red streamers hung from the ceiling, red heart balloons at every table. There were even pink and white tablecloths. You looked at Bucky, and the two of you moved to find your table.

The two of you had a seat and you couldn’t help but to take notice of every detail in the room. What made you even more excited, however, was the huge dance floor. You learned to dance from Bucky, and ever since he had, the two of you would dance the night away at Tony’s parties. What made tonight even more special was the live band. Tony usually just went for a DJ, but tonight, the group singing only the most romantic songs.

As you were taking in your surroundings, the rest of the Avengers joined you at your table. Wanda and Vision came together, and were looking cozy tonight, you thought. Sam and Natasha had gone together, as friends. Sharon and Steve couldn’t keep their hands off each other, though it wasn’t surprising; those two had been dating longer than you and Bucky. You knew you were missing Bruce, Clint, and Thor, but they had other matters to attend to tonight.

Tony made his way to your table and you couldn’t help but beam at him. “This place looks amazing,” you said. Tony blushed slightly, and gave you his thanks before excusing himself so he could go say hello to the other guests.

You smiled. Tony was always the one to play host, never to play guest. You knew it was because he didn’t like to have any more than just a couple minutes of attention on him at a time. Though he loved attention and could be completely egotistical, he had a hard time when he spent time around one person for more than just a brief few minutes.

You and Bucky made your way to the dance floor as the band played “The Way You Look Tonight”. This was one of your favorite songs, and Bucky knew it. He guided you around the dance floor, dipping and twirling you when he saw fit. You knew that you would have no problem staying here, in Bucky’s arms, all night.

By the end of the fifth song, Bucky told you that he needed a quick break. You nodded, and went to grab some punch. As you sipped on the rum and fruit punch, you saw that it looked like Bucky was talking to the band. They seemed to agree to whatever he was saying, and you weren’t sure what exactly he had planned.

Before you had time to figure it out, the band had asked for everyone to clear off the dance floor besides Bucky and you. You made your way to the dance floor, and looked at Bucky. He smiled at you and held his hand out to you. The band started to play your favorite song: So Close from the movie Enchanted. A song that you told Bucky that if you two ever got engaged, he had to use this in his proposal. You took his hand, and followed his lead.

The song played as you and Bucky danced cheek to cheek. You couldn’t believe that this was actually happening to you. You were dancing with your favorite person in the whole world, and everything else seemed to drift away at that moment.

At the part in the movie where the romantic lead sings to the princess, Bucky did the same to you. As Bucky sang to you, your heart stopped beating.

“Now you’re beside me, and look how far we’ve come,” Bucky sang in your ear. You looked up at him and could see only adoration for you on his face. You smiled at him and knew what was about to happen.

The music swelled, and Bucky started to waltz with you around the dance floor. As the music increased, so did Bucky’s dips and spins. When the song began to slow again, he let go of you. You looked at him for a second before he got down on one knee. The music stopped playing, and he began to speak.

“For a long time, I hated Valentine’s Day. I hated that the color red was used to symbolize love. All I had ever been able to attribute the color to were my mistakes. But then I met you and I understood why red is the color of passion. Because when I look at you, my heart starts beating at a thousand miles per second. You laugh, and I forget about my past – I feel normal. I no longer hate Valentine’s Day because it was the day you became mine. And I hope that you’ll agree to be mine for the rest of my life.” You couldn’t stop the waterworks that had started. There were tears everywhere, and you knew you were a mess. You couldn’t even get out a single word; all you could do was nod your head.

Bucky stood up and slid the ring onto your finger. He kissed every place on your face that was tear stained, and you could see that he was crying now as well. You looked over to the rest of your team and they were giving you smug smiles though they too were crying. They had wanted this as badly as you had.

You looked at the ring on your finger and noted that it was the second most beautiful thing you’d ever known. The first being the man who had given it to you, the man who was hugging you now. He leaned down, and smiled at you.

“I hope this is alright, it was my grandmother’s. Steve was able to find it for me after I told him that I was planning on proposing to you.” You looked up at him and couldn’t help but kiss him, smiling as you did so. You assured him that everything was perfect and that you would never get over the fact that you’d found the perfect man. He smiled at you and in his heart, he knew you were always going to be his girl. Tagged: @ailynalonso15 @lilasiannerd

[creativeashproductions]

Parallels

Summary: Y/N Winchester and her cousins Dean and Sam have been taken into New York to end a nasty monster. They bring the attention of the Avengers, specifically Bucky, with their behaviour. How will each team react to each other?

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Avengers.

Words: 4069

Warnings: Blood, swearing, mad Steve.

Author: Caitsy

A/N: Potential second part if wanted.

Masterlist

You rush into the gym scanning for Sam, he had come to the gym while they were there for the week because the cold winter was colder than he originally suspected. On the other hand the monster could be using this gym also. Instead you ram into someone in you're frantically searching eyes, they were quickly adjusting from the dark outdoors.

"Shit! Sorry!" You rushed you're words not paying attention to whoever you had bumped into.

"It's okay. Are you alright?" The deep voice gave you an indication that it was in fact a man that you bumped into.

"Yeah-SAM!" You screeched running to the younger Winchester you had worked with for years now. His head snapped up in worry, his inquisitive eyes glancing down to you oddly wet looking spot on the left side of your shirt.

Striding over noticing the other man beside Y/N. His eyebrow raised noticing the man looking nervous and concerned at the same time. By the nearly unnoticeable wet spot he had a feeling their monster had struck her. He couldn't flat out ask with civilians around.

"Hey what's wrong?" Sam questioned placing his hands on her arms.

"The pipe burst and I couldn't get a hold of the plumber!" You frantically said glancing over at the stranger.

Bucky furrowed his eyebrows finding it strange that the woman had came to the gym instead of calling, it felt a weird taste in his mouth at the anger in the tall man's eye and the slight fear the woman had. He had a suspicion that the female was being abused.

"Shit. The plumber didn't answer. How bad?" Sam questioned.

"Really bad.”

"I know someone that could help with that." Bucky cut into their conversation.

"We have it handled." She snapped in her concern.

"Y/N!" Sam snapped at her, "I'm sorry. My cousin and I have been having some troubles with the house we're renting. It's placed some pressure on her shoulders.”

Bucky nodded earning an apologetic expression from Y/N but he did see that the interaction between the cousins was off and almost rehearsed in the expressions and words. Sam couldn't seem to get a read on the man, his eyes held only rich emotions that the Winchesters had felt their entire life. In that moment Sam took a minute to realize how this man was the only one up at 3 am.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Dean!" Y/N screeched as the gruff hunter walked in holding a gun up. Bucky's eyes widened before he quickly regained his composure. Something was very wrong with these people, and he wanted to figure them out. He would need help because he couldn't tell if they were Hydra or not.

"Look man. I'm just a guy that couldn't sleep, I decided to work it out." Bucky replied his arms in the air. His body tilted just a smidge to left, his arm still wasn’t something he was fond of.

The Winchesters all noticed the movement with suspicion that fuelled Dean's finger to twitch towards the trigger. He decided against it with the security cameras and Y/N heated stare poring into the side of his head. With the slight distraction Bucky struck out slamming his foot into Sam's face with enough strength to knock him out. Sweeping his leg out he caught Y/N sending her to the ground with a thump. The last remaining Winchester barely had time to pull the trigger before he was shoved up high on the wall and a knife pressed to his throat. He heard the bullet ricochet before he saw it.

"Who the fuck are you?" Bucky growled into the mans face.

"Let him go!" Y/N screamed throwing a dumbbell at his head. Bucky felt it smack his head with force before he turned his attention to you, "What the fuck?”

"Shouldn’t have done that doll." Bucky stated before he literally threw Dean across the room with a smack. Y/N had never seen something like this before, only the supernatural had the strength needed to do that, "You just can't let it go.”

"Let what go?" Y/N whispered backing up further into the room.

"ME." Bucky screamed grasping her by the throat. Her hand wrapped around the hardness covered by a long sleeve and felt the strange texture.

"I don't know…w-what you're talking about." Y/N gasped seeing black invade her vision, "We can talk civilized can we not?”

Bucky snarled dropping her to the ground when he heard rather than saw his best friend storm in wearing his uniform. His date standing nearby with a gun aimed at the larger man out cold on the ground. Sharon and Steve shared a look as they both walked in enough to kick the weapons that had dropped. Sharon raised an eyebrow at the detailed gun with a gleaming silver finish and white grip.

"Seriously Buck?" Steve rubbed his face, "You have to stop this.”

"He pointed a gun at me!" Bucky exclaimed roughly motioning to the man across the room.

"What about her?" Sharon asked pointing her gun into the females face.

"Agent Y/N Ford." Y/N said reaching into her pocket and swiftly flipping open the ID, "My partners and I are currently undercover for a classified case. I can't go into details about the matter. Can I ask what you're names are and why you're holding a federal agent at gunpoint?”

"Why the hell would three of you be needed?" Sharon questioned.

"Ah. The boys refuse to work without each other, they grew up across the street from each other, and I have the most knowledge on the case. Also I'm still fairly new at his."

"Sammy?" The gravely voice came out weak from the shorter man.

"Shut up." Sam groaned sitting up. He noticed the added people in the room and climbed to his feet, "Dean. We have more people here.”

"Agents. It seems we've got a problem. A bunch of hoodlums decided to nearly put our covers at risk. I can't believe he got you both." Y/N sighed at her 'co-workers' feeling the glare from Dean intensely.

The others stared at the three before the man in the uniform spoke up with conviction, "Okay. I'm sorry but we're going to have to take you in.”

"You want to take in three federal agents? Are you trying to fuck you're life up?" Y/N asked. Sharon smirked at her reply before she herself spoke up.

"Sweetie. I'm a CIA Agent. These two are Avengers. I'm pretty sure we know fakes when we see them. Please don't make me call in-" Cutting herself off she threw three little disk onto them seeing them drop to the ground, "Well I'll have to thank Black Widow for that."

♧ ♢ ♡ ♤

The team assembled in the board room with different emotions given the time it was. Each Avenger was concerned and angry with the lose of sleep on the time they were promised off. Bucky and Steve stood in the front of the room as if they were at attention in the war still. Tony collapsed into a chair first groaning at the headache he already had from the excess alcohol with Rhodey earlier.

"Okay what's going on?" Clint asked leaning forward.

"We have potential Hydra agents in the cell." Bucky stated not looking at the owner of the building.

"Excuse me?" Tony grunted straigthening up, "How did they end up in the cell? Are you two cooking up a plan?”

"Oh that's rich coming from you." Steve muttered ignoring the warning look he received from Natasha, "Buck why don't you explain.”

"I was working at the gym and I came across a confrontation between a male and female claiming to be cousins. They were using phrases and gestures that were too rehearsed to be true. Soon I had another man point a gun at me.”

"You went all nuts again didn't you." Tony stated staring the man down. They didn't notice Steve leave the room with the nod from Nat.

Before anyone could blink three casually dressed people were shoved into chairs roughly. Each sporting an extremely annoyed expression and specially designed cuffs on their hands. All three knew that there was no way they pick them, they were far too advanced for them to figure out. Not to mention they had a group of people stop talking to stare at them all equally annoyed.

"They don't look tough enough." Tony stated climbing to his feet. Bucky raised his hand and for once Tony let him speak.

"Are you from Hydra?" He questioned.

"What the hell is a Hydra?" Dean burst out, "I'll have you know we'll be contacting our superior over this! Who the hell are you freaks?”

A sharp inhale was heard from the quiet brunette at the end of the table. With shame she picked through their heads carefully seeing the truth behind their statement, with respect she only went over the necessary as Sharon brought up a visual.

There on the screen was the mugshots that Charlie had erased for them years ago. The trio stared freaking out internally at the sight. Each Avenger climbed to their feet in caution.

"Not Hydra." Sharon muttered watching their body language, "Definitely not federal agents. They aren't in the system and the last name she gave us is a dud for a female.”

"Who are you?" Sam questioned looking at each of them.

"Avengers." The accent of the silent brunette said, "We save the world from people set against destroying it. I am Wanda."

"Well hello sweetheart." Dean smirked at the female noticing the beauty she held.

Y/N slammed her foot against his leg earning a groan from the man and earning the slight respect from Wanda and Sharon. They noticed quickly that the trio were trained heavily but not by anyone from the government. They weren't enhanced either but Wanda could feel almost a shadow of darkness around each of them. Almost as if feeling her powers the trio looked at her with disgust.

"Looks like we got ourselves a witch." Dean grumbled, "Damn shame.”

Guns cocked as they stared into dozens pointed at their faces. The only unarmed one was Wanda but she had something far more dangerous. A red mist shifted around her fingers. Something the hunters had never seen before in their line of work.

"I'll only ask one more time." Bucky growled getting into their faces, "Who the hell are you?”

"Y/N Winchester. These are my cousins Sam and Dean Winchester." Y/N caved knowing they weren't getting out of this one even with Castiel.

"Y/N! You idiot." Dean hissed at her, "Might as well tell them that we protect them!”

"How?" Nat slammed her hands down on the table allowing her cleavage to cloud the green eyed mans mind. She saw his Adam's apple bob before licking his lips, "We save you from Hydra. A formerly secret organization within the Nazi party of World War 2. How do you think you protect us?”

"We're hunters." The tallest Winchester spoke up, "We hunt the things that go bump in the night. Every monster you can think of we've killed at least once.”

"You haven't." Bucky said walking up next to Nat, "You haven't killed me.”

"What are you." Y/N softly asked not believing the man in front of her.

"A monster." Bucky snarled pulling his glove off and his sleeve up showcasing the relic he had from his Hydra days, "You're saying a bunch of bullshit. Wanda search their minds.”

“Buck-"

"No, go right ahead Spandex." Dean glared over at the man in the ridiculous red, white, and blue uniform. With some oversized Frisbee on his back.

Within seconds of speaking Wanda let her hands flow up and guide the red mist to the trios heads watching their eyes light up red as she went through each and every memory they had. She was astounded to see the amount of pain each Winchester held in their heart and the monsters that roamed around until others like them got to her. The one that surprised her the most, including the Angels, was the start of Apocalypse. How had the Avengers never noticed that? In shock she collapsed into her chair.

"Wanda are you okay?" A voice asked from the doorway. The Winchesters spun to see a red man wearing regular clothing and a weird gem in the middle of his forehead. It was obvious he wasn't a human.

"I am fine." Wanda replied, "They are telling the truth. Beasts roam around us and they don't know about anything that has happened with us.”

"I guess we have a lot to learn from each other." Steve said, "I'm Steve Rogers. Most people know me as Captain America. These are the rest of my teammates. Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Bucky Barnes, Clint Barton and Vision.”

"Sam Wilson is currently with his family at this moment in time." Nat said rolling her eyes.

Right after each member stated their part of the Avengers earning some jealousy and respect from Dean. They were what he had once seen his Dad as when he was a little kid and was told the story of Steve Rogers. He had always thought it was some stupid story John would use to get him to fall asleep. Mary would lean against the wall smiling before putting her two cents into the story also. The night Mary burnt on the ceiling was the last time he ever head and thought of Captain America.

♧ ♢ ♡ ♤

The Winchesters had been invited to stay in the tower with the team in apology for they way they were brought in. The rooms they had been shown were lavish enough that it was too uncomfortable to be in there long. They had decided a seedy motel was more their style to the disgust of Tony.

The Winchesters had gotten an attached room as they usually did so they had more space and beds. Plus the door was always left open for safety reasons but would close when Dean brought a lady to room. They didn’t expect to be here long anyway, they just had to gank the demon and get out of town.

“Beer?” Dean questioned as Y/N began to put her jacket on.

“Anything else?” Y/N asked raising one of her eyebrows, “Might as well say while I’m in a good mood.”

“I’ll come.” Sam said climbing to his full height, “Might as well stretch my legs.”

Y/N chuckled zipping up the lightweight dark jacket before lifting the french braid out of the back of it. Fall had hit with an unforgiving chill in the last week with leaves falling on the ground. It was her favourite time of the year with the colours and the nice weather.

Both leaving the room Dean stretched out of the bed turning the tv on to watch a show to pass the time. He didn’t feel like ‘researching’ and it wasn’t the right time to get to a bar. He was itching to find the demon and kill it. He was restless when they had nothing to do for a couple of days.

In a store Y/N had managed a snag some medical supplies they were running low on while Sam had collected some waters. The water that ran out of the motel tap wasn’t clear making it hesitating to drink it. Y/N had decided it would be smart just to grab bottles instead. They two had snuck around the store when they noticed Steve picking out some groceries.

“We done?” Y/N whispered peaking around the corner as Steve went into the produce area. Sam hummed nodding as they stood at the check out patiently waiting for the teen to ring their stuff through. The female couldn't be any older than sixteen and was definitely loving the man in front of her.

“Anything else…Mr. Jenkins?” The teen bit her lip as she made eyes at Sam. Sam shifted under the stare as Y/N chuckled.

“We’re fine.” Y/N answered folding her arms as she turned her attention from the magazines. The teen frowned blushing at the older woman in front of her.

“Jenkins?” Steve’s familiar voices questioned confused.

“Oh. Rogers.” Y/N smiled shifting on her feet as the card was approved and shoved into Sam’s wallet, “How are you?”


 “I thought your last-“

“We better go, Dean’s waiting to head out for food.” Y/N grinned grabbing the bag from the checkout and rushing Sam out with her, “It was nice to meet you!”

The Impala was pulling out of the parking lot when Steve got outside frowning at the lies the Winchesters had given the teen.

*Two Weeks Later*

“Dean! Shit.” Y/N growled watching as the eldest Winchester was thrown against he wall by the monster. They had discovered only recently that the demon was in fact a witch that had hidden herself.

The fight was messy with Dean unconscious against a far wall while Sam was already struggling to get to his feet. The gun had been thrown from his hands and quickly acquired by the witch running a finger on it. She was a pretty thing for sure but she was very hard to kill.

“My, my. What a pretty toy you have.” The witch’s prefect red lips pulled back in a snarl, “It’s not really my style but why not?”

The bullet was sent into the shoulder of Y/N resulting in a screech as she fell into a heap. The pain was intense as she felt the witch’s power follow the bullet inside to shift the bullet around. She barely noticed when Sam was knocked out next into a heap too.

“I could have a lot of fun with you.” The witch grinned.

“Go to hell.” Y/N returned. She felt relief when the witch quit with the bullet.

She rushed the witch at a high speed before she released a blood curdling scream as pain flowed into her body. All she could see was red around her as they pain intensified and was too strong to even pass out from. The screams worsened when she felt something sharp rip her from shoulder to shoulder on the front of her body.

The sound aroused both the male hunters in the room as they watched in horror as Y/N was ripped open in front of them. Sam would admit he gagged at the sight as the witch had managed to cause pain with her power and manually with a knife.

“Go to hell.” Dean grunted as he shot in the forehead with his gun.

“Hey, Y/N you’re okay. She’s dead.” Sam soothed the still screaming and heavily bleeding girl.

“Avengers.” Y/N choked out sobbing at the great pain.

“No!”

“Dean! They’re closer than any hospital! They could stabilize her! They have to have a med bay.” Sam snapped lifting the female into his arms.

“Fine!” Dean snapped, “Just hurry.”

With a blood slicked hand Sam pressed in the phone number the Avengers had given them when they had left the Tower. He swallowed hard seeing how much blood was coating both Y/N and him. The phone rang a few times before it was answered.

“Hello?”

“We need help.” Sam shakily said keeping the phone in the crook his neck. His hands were occupied pressing his jacket on the long, deep gash, “We’re injured, too bad to make it to the hospital.”

“How bad?”  Steve questioned motioning towards the team, they came into the kitchen from the common room.

“It’s really bad.”

“Okay. How far out?”

“Here.”

In a quick steps Sam and Dean had managed to rush onto the med wing from the help of the AI machine. The team was shocked at the sight of the Winchesters coated in blood and injuries. Dean had arm held by his other against his midsection, it was obviously dislocated and each had a mess of cuts and bruises already. The worst of the unconscious female in Sam’s arms.

“What the hell?” Bucky questioned as the female was deposited on the bed in the medical wing.

He paled when the jacket was removed to show a gash deep enough to show muscle and red went from her face to her lower stomach. In just a few seconds Helen Cho and her team were flying at the room at high speeds. A nurse came to help Dean would was shoved aside with a glare.

“I got it.”

“Sir! You’re shoulder is dis-“

“I know. It’s not the first time.” Dean growled stepping backwards while the team moved further back.

“The Cradle is the only chance.” Helen announced pressing gauze to the severe cut, “What caused this?”

“A knife.” Sam said staring at his red hands, “Jesus.”

Soon the brothers were in the debriefing room where everyone was sitting as Steve stood at the head of the table. His arms were crossed as he stared at Sam wrenching Dean’s arm back into his rightful place.

“Explain now.”

“We’ve been researching the monster that brought us to the city. We thought demon and were definitely not prepared to see a witch instead. She had it out for us since we killed her small coven a couple years ago.” Sam answered looking at Steve, “It was a fight that within half an hour had Dean out against and a wall.”

“Hey! You were out too!” Dean snapped at his younger brother, “Y/N agonized screamed woke us back and we saw the witch dragging a knife slowly in her chest while her power tortured her.”

“It was almost too late when I put a bullet in her head.”

“Witches.” Steve stated staring at them.

“Maybe an enhanced?” Wanda said looking at her fingers.

“No. She gained her magic from a demon.” Sam corrected her.

“Okay.” Steve raised on of his eyebrows, “What about the grocery store? You paid with a card that wasn't yours.”

“The salary of a hunter ain’t good. We gank monsters and don’t receive shit. We gotta live somehow.”

“FRAUD?!” Steve roared, “That’s illegal!”

“We are aware.” Dean growled, “You kill humans and we kill monsters. In this room we may be the better people.

♧ ♢ ♡ ♤

"Are you sure you want to stay?" Dean asked his cousin as Sam shook hands with the Avengers. The group had stayed the last month waiting for Y/N to get back on her feet.

"Yeah." Y/N nodded, "For now anyway. I need time from that witch. I think a break would be a good thing for me. Besides these people should learn some more about our enemies.”

"Only if you're sure." Dean sighed.

"I'll call. Just give me some time." Y/N whispered up at the cousin she considered a brother, "I won't get into trouble.”

"You're a Winchester. Trouble always finds us." Sam said walking up to his family, "I'll miss you Squirt.”

"I'll miss you too." Y/N hugged him, "Six months is all I'm asking for.”

"Fine but don't you go become an Avenger on us." Dean smirked at her before slinging his arms around her for a quick hug, "Put us on speed dial and we'll come running.”

Y/N nodded  watching her boys watch towards the elevator and hopefully not out of her life forever. She had been training to be a hunter since her Aunt Mary had died and finally become a full one when her Uncle took her out when she was ten. She wanted to see how normal life could be with a group of people that served a similar purpose. Not to mention the tall, dark and handsome man that she had taken to bed a week ago. Bucky had talent for sure and she couldn't wait to see what else he knew.

"It's not too late." Bucky said wrapping his metal arm around her. Pressing his lips to the side of her head, and feeling his heart ache at the thought of her leaving.

"I know. The thing is, we Winchesters had a habit of finding each other again whether we want to or not. I won't be able to get out of the hunting life and when it comes knocking. I'll be ready."

[lovemesomerafael]

Destroying the Planet to Save It    Chapter 4:  Whatever Works

Chapter 1    Chapter 2    Chapter 3    Read it on AO3

Sharon immediately saw that Bruce’s meteorologist colleague was just as convinced as he was that the tornado in Washington hadn’t been a natural phenomenon.  She could also see that all three of those working with monitors and readouts and a very cool 3-D model of the storm with the tornado swirling down from it were deeply troubled.  Tony’s hair was sticking up at all sorts of angles, as though he’d been pulling at it.  Bruce looked even more dark and morose than usual.  

“I just came to check on you.  Do you need anything?”

Tony waved nonchalantly without looking away from the complex display he was manipulating in mid-air. “Nah.  We’re good.”

“All right.  Air Force One is half an hour out.  The Presidents are leaving, if you wanted to say goodbye. Chopper’s already on the landing pad.”

This time she got no response at all.  All three of them were completely submerged in whatever it was they were doing.  

“Can we expect any answers anytime soon?”  She asked, touching Bruce on the arm to get his attention.

“Wha-  No.  We’re working on it, but there’s a lot to go through.  We’re gonna need time.  Just make sure Coulson’s watching for any more of those energy spikes.”

“Will do.  Call me if you need anything.”  She waited, but again no one was paying the slightest attention to anything but whatever it was they were looking at.

From the lab, she went to the little observation room off the landing pad.  Outside, all the Secret Service agents, both Presidents, the first lady, and Bucky were already on the helicopter.  She stood next to Steve and waved as they took off, angling toward the airport where President Burke would meet Air Force One.  From there, the helicopter would take President Lattimore and his Secret Service detail to the Quinjet for their trip to Alabama to return Lattimore to his home.  

Sharon turned and gave Steve a thin smile, then moved toward the elevator.  Steve followed, putting a hand on her arm.  “Sharon, can we talk?”

“Of course,” she said, stopping and turning fully toward him, her stomach in knots.

“Not here.  Let’s go somewhere more private.  Uh, my rooms?”

“Sure.”

Neither of them said anything as the elevator descended to the residential floor, or even as they walked side by side, not touching, to the suite Steve usually occupied when he was here.  He opened the door and gestured her in.  It wasn’t until she’d taken a seat on the edge of a deep reading chair, with him sitting on the end of the couch just next to it, that he spoke.  He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and hands clasped between them.

“I’m sorry,” he began.

“You don’t owe me an apology.”

“Yeah,” he sighed.  “I do.  I’ve been thinking about what you said, and you’re right.  I had reasons for what I did, but I know what it must have looked like – felt like – to Tony.  And I shouldn’t have been rude to you for being right.”

“It’s OK.  You weren’t rude.  We’re good.”

He looked up into her eyes. “Sharon…  What you said…”

Shit.  She’d been afraid of this when he said he wanted to talk.  She was in no way prepared for this moment.  Sharon had never meant to say anything remotely like what she’d said.  It had just slipped out.  And now, sitting here with him looking up into her face with spellbound expectation, she had a choice to make.  All her instincts screamed to make light of it.  Or to apologize.  And yet, she knew that this was her opportunity.  Her chance to tell him what she felt for him, what she saw in him. It might never come again.  

She steeled herself.  “We don’t have to talk about that if you don’t want to,” she whispered.  “I’m honestly not sure I’m ready to.  But I’m not going to deny I meant it.”

It took every ounce of courage she had to keep returning his gaze.  She had no courage left to say anything more.

“You know what my life is like.”

“Like I said, we don’t have to talk about this.  I’m a big girl, Steve.”

“No, that’s not…  I’m not trying to make excuses, or let you down easy.  I guess I sort of hoped it was obvious I have feelings for you, too.  But, I mean, that’s the thing.  I shouldn’t.  My life, it’s…  It’s not mine.  I can’t get involved, because I don’t have anything to give you.  Not even my time.”

“That’s a load of horse shit.”

Steve surprised laugh rang out in the quiet room.  “Uh… Okaaaaaay…”

“Do you know what I see when I look at you?  I see a man who has absolutely no idea who he is.  I get that your body’s changed; you’ve said often enough that it doesn’t feel like yours.  And I understand that you’re living in a time that, for you, isn’t home, either.  I don’t pretend to know what that’s like.”

“How could you?  I think only Bucky and me can really know what it’s like.”

“But that’s not it, Steve.  The thing with you is, you’re all about protecting other people, defending them. Doing what’s right.  All of those are excellent, sterling qualities.  They’re you.  They’re why Erskine chose you.  But there’s another side to those things.  It means you do nothing but give, all the time.  And sure, you wouldn’t be so selfless if it wasn’t rewarding, on some level.  But here’s the thing.  Even though you’re a supersoldier, even though you’re Captain America, you’re still human.  You’re still a man.  You’re finite.  You can’t go on giving and giving, protecting and defending everyone but yourself, forever. There’s only so much of you, so much inside of you, to give away if you won’t ever accept anything back.”

For a moment, Steve simply looked at her, a wrinkle of concentration between his brows.  Then he gave his head a slight shake and said quietly, “I don’t know what that means.”

“It means that I can see the weariness in your eyes, Steve.  I can see that the weight of the world is getting awfully damn heavy on you. And, holy shit, it would.  Because you don’t let anyone else help you carry it.”

Steve sat back and pulled a hand through his hair, huffing.  “That’s not true.  There’s S.H.I.E.L.D.  There’s the rest of the Avengers.  I’m not fighting alone.”

“I’m not talking about fighting.  I’m talking about you.  Steve Rogers, the man.  Who’s he got? Who holds him up?”

“I…  well, I have friends. I mean… I have you, and Bucky, and the team…”

“Yeah.  You do.  But you keep all of us at arm’s length.  Let us in. Let me in.  I think you need that.  I think you need that desperately.”

Steve sighed and frowned down at his legs, saying nothing.  Sharon stayed as she was, just watching him, letting her words sink in. Finally, after several full minutes, he looked up at her from under his eyelashes.  

“I think you might be right,” he whispered, emotion choking his voice.  “I’ll...  I’ll try. If you’ll help me.”

“Of course I will,” she said softly, reaching out for his hand with a gentle smile.

“Right now, I have to go see what’s going on in the lab.”

“No.  You don’t.”

Steve looked up, surprised. “I should-“

Now Sharon’s smile widened, even as she shook her head.  “No. You shouldn’t.”

Steve cocked an eyebrow, genuinely confused.  “I don’t…”

“It’s Tony and Bruce’s turn to carry the weight of the world right now.  You don’t have to take that on.”

“But I…  I don’t know what else to do.”

“Want me to tell you?”

“Yes.  Please.”

“Friday?”  Sharon called, a little louder than they’d been speaking.

“Yes, Agent Carter?”

“Are the comms in the building working?”  She didn’t take her eyes from Steve’s, and her lips remained curved in that smile.

“Yes, Agent Carter. Would you like to speak to someone?”

“No.  I’d just like you to tell me if the comms between this room and the lab are working.”

“Yes, Agent Carter. They are in perfect working order.”

“So if Mr. Stark or Dr. Banner have something to tell us, they’ll be able to do it instantly, right?”

“Yes, Agent Carter.”

“Excellent.  Then we’d like some privacy, unless there’s something urgent.  Can you do that?”

“Of course.”

Steve noticed that Sharon’s eyes had a definite glint of mischief, or something, in them.  He started to get a better idea what that something was when she stood and shifted her weight, sliding into his lap with one arm going around his neck and the other hand lifted to his face, where she began stroking a knuckle down his jaw.  She felt warm and strong, and he didn’t hesitate to gather her to him.  

“Now.  What you do is, you let the geniuses do what they do, and you take care of yourself so you’ll be ready when it’s your turn.”

Sharon felt a surge of joy at the lustful interest already taking over Steve’s expression.  

“How, exactly, do you propose I do that?”

“You let me kiss you,” she answered throatily.  “Really kiss you.  And you kiss me back.  Think you can handle that?”

“Oh, yeah,” he grinned.

Steve’s lips were firm and warm on Sharon’s, and for a very long time they simply kissed as they’d been doing, caressing one another’s lips and nipping at each other’s mouths.  But this kiss was different.  Sharon meant it to be, and she’d been ready to be the one to push it into new territory, but Steve beat her to it.  She felt his tongue licking at her bottom lip, not intrusive or demanding, just lightly tasting.  She hoped he could feel her smile, and used the tip of her own tongue to trace his upper lip.  His tiny moan unleashed a flock of butterflies low in her stomach, and she felt her body’s response lower down when he tipped his head just a bit and licked into her mouth. Oh, this man knew how to kiss.

The combination of the gentle, tender way he was holding her, the warmth of his hand splayed across her back, and the suddenly hungry way he was kissing her, invading her mouth with his tongue, made Sharon gasp.  He seemed to like that, because he moved his hand from her hip to cradle her chin and took firm control of the kiss, moaning out loud this time.  This was by far the most intimate, fully open-mouthed kiss they’d shared, and Sharon felt a rush of pleasure at how good Steve tasted, how masterfully he was holding and kissing her.  She scooted her hips, trying to get closer to him.  If she’d known what really kissing him was like, she’d have been on his lap long before this.

“Sharon…” he breathed, sending lightning through her, and spread his thighs a little, pulling her in.  She let him take their kisses wherever he wanted, responding with all the urgency and passion she felt.  

At first, she wasn’t sure what he intended when he slid a hand under her legs and stood with her in his arms, as though she weighed no more than a kitten.  He took the two steps to the center of the long couch, then gently let go of her legs to set her on her feet.  He stood, pressed full-length against her and kissed her deeply for a long time, cradling the back of her head in his hand.  When he sat again, he turned his body and laid down, pulling her to him so that she was lying full-length on top of him.  

For a seemingly endless stretch of time, it was enough, feeling all of him, mouths hungrily devouring one another, moaning freely now.  Until Sharon began to let herself truly relax against Steve’s body, and felt how aroused he was. The insistent warmth between her legs became a wet, demanding heat.  Feeling his firm cock beneath her, she couldn’t keep from sliding against him, slowly and tentatively at first.  But as she felt him move with her, she instinctively and irresistibly spread her legs to straddle him, giving in to the almost overwhelming urge to grind against him with the most intimate part of her.  He groaned, sliding a hand into her hair and closing his fingers around a handful.  He didn’t pull, but it felt possessive, demanding, the acknowledgement she’d needed that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.  It was tempting, so tempting, to stay there, rubbing their bodies together, tongues ravaging mouths, groaning, until they made each other come.  But that wasn’t what Sharon wanted.

She slid her hands out from under his massive shoulders, down his chest, to the hem of the royal blue long-sleeved T-shirt he wore.  She shivered in ecstasy as, for the first time, she ran her hands up the bare skin of the hard, corrugated plane of his abdomen, to the swell of his chest.  Suddenly, she wanted desperately to get rid of the fucking shirt that was keeping her from seeing his naked torso and arms.  She was probably rough as she grabbed handfuls of it with a growl, practically tearing it up his body.  He didn’t seem to mind.  In fact, he pulled it off himself, in one jerky movement, and pulled her immediately back to him.  

Now it was her blouse she was grabbing at, yanking it from her like it was on fire.  Once she was free of it, she was finally less frantic, able to feel his skin against hers, to touch him wherever she chose, and slide her mouth down his neck, across his chest, to his arms.  They continued to grind their bodies together as she slowly, worshipfully, ran her hands and her mouth over all of his flesh she could reach.  When she felt him unhook her bra, she tore it off, gasping with the feeling of her bare breasts against his heated skin.  

He tried to follow her with his hips as she lifted up to slide her body lower, reaching more of him with her hands and mouth, kissing, licking, and simply rubbing her lips across his stomach.  She kept her weight on one elbow, slipping her hand underneath him to cup his ass – did asses get that hard? - as she caressed his thigh with her other hand.  That kept her occupied for a long while, and his gasping breaths and occasional groans and hisses of her name made her explorations at least as pleasurable for her as his rutting hips told her they were for him.  

He actually cried out when she moved lower, mouthing him through his pleated twill pants, groaning herself as she realized that in her deepest fantasies, she’d actually underestimated his size.  Bless you, Abraham Erskine, wherever you are, she thought.  She could feel Steve becoming needy – trying not to thrust up into her, but wanting desperately to do exactly that – and allowed herself an evil giggle against him.  

“Sharon, please…”

She gave a low chuckle. “You’re not giving the orders here, Captain,” she growled, but reached for his belt buckle anyway.  She continued kissing him randomly, stroking and gripping his thigh, reveling in his hard strength, as she unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants.  Then she leaned up onto both elbows, watching his face as she unzipped him.  He was flushed, with a gorgeous sheen of sweat making his magnificent body glisten in the late-morning light flooding the room. His eyes were shut tight, his lips parted as he panted.  

“Is this OK?”  She asked lasciviously.

“Yes!  Fuck, yes!”

Giggling again, she slid a knee under her so she could put her weight on it to lift up and pull his pants and boxer briefs down his thighs.  She’d known, roughly, what his cock would be like from sliding her mouth up and down it through his pants.  But somehow she wasn’t prepared for the full sight.  He opened his eyes and looked at her, the sudden concern in his face turning to a smile when he understood what her gasp had been about.  

“I…  Steve, you’re���  Oh, you’re so beautiful…”  She couldn’t wait long enough to say more than that before getting her mouth on his perfect cock.  

She had no idea how long she spent, kneeling between his spread thighs, never having bothered to do more than move his pants out of her way, sliding her tongue slowly up his shaft to flick across his head, tasting him and moaning in pleasure.  He rotated his hips, trying not to thrust but unable to keep still.  Sharon smiled with satisfaction, hearing the sounds he was entirely unable to control. She moved lower, tonguing his balls, using her hand to lift them to mouth them gently, humming with happiness as he gasped her name.  

He smelled wonderful: masculine, salty and musky and tangy.  She’d wondered how he would smell, how he would taste, and took her time discovering him as he became more and more aroused.  She knew he was having an extremely hard time not taking control, his hands clenching and unclenching, the muscles of his abdomen and thighs hard with the tension of keeping himself in check.  She wanted to remember the ecstatic, tortured look on his face forever.  

After she’d satisfied herself – for the moment – with her explorations, she shifted up slightly, just enough to lick the pre-come from his shaft until she reached the head of his cock and took it between her lips.  She grasped his cock lightly in her hand.

“Steve,” she whispered.

He opened his eyes, looking down his flushed, sweaty chest to look at her, breathing almost too hard to grunt in answer.

“Will you let me make you come?  Please?  I want to make you feel good.”

“I…  Uh…. Uh-huh…” he managed, nodding stupidly.  

Laughing softly, she took him back into her mouth, and spent the next few minutes working her way to taking as much of him as she could.  Even when she finally managed to deep-throat him as far as she could, he was still too big for her to take all of him.  She gripped him firmly with her hand and turned her attention to the slight undulations of his pelvis to help her establish the rhythm he needed.  He smoothed a hand over her hair and combed his fingers through it, but didn’t grasp or try to control her movements, although the tension in his arm told her he wanted to.  Later.  Right now, she wanted him to simply relax, and let her give him this.  

He was close.  She could hear it in his gasps and feel it in the stiffness of his thighs under her.  When he cried out her name, loudly, and began a string of curses and exclamations, she stayed where she was, changing nothing about her rhythm or pressure, or what she was doing with her tongue.  She gloried in her success, at how undone he was.  She knew he couldn’t hear himself, wasn’t paying the slightest attention, was absolutely beyond thinking about anything other than her mouth on his cock, and his impending climax.  Exactly, precisely, where she’d been dying to take him.  

He went stiff and still, not speaking or even breathing, for a few beats before, with a mighty shout, he exploded into her mouth, shooting jet after jet of hot come down her throat. She eased the pressure of her mouth and hand, but didn’t stop sucking and stroking him until he actually pushed a little at her, letting her know he was finished, and becoming oversensitive.

Sharon felt like an obscene goddess, or a succubus, insanely proud of herself in this moment, as she caught her breath, watching Steve Rogers come down from what she could tell had been a phenomenal orgasm.  Her smile was probably an offensively self-satisfied smirk, but she didn’t give a shit, because Steve’s eyes were closed, he was still stroking her hair and smiling to himself, and he was more relaxed than she’d ever seen him in the entire time she’d known him.  Mission a-fucking-complished.

His eyes fluttered open and he pulled her up to lie half on his chest, in the crook of his arm.

“That was…  Well, that was fucking incredible, is what that was,” he gave an awed chuckle, kissing her.  “Damn. The CIA train you in that stuff?”

“I could tell you, but I’d have to kill you.”

“Well.  When I come back to earth, I’m gonna take you to bed and return the favor.  Maybe several times.  I’m a supersoldier, y’know.  Got a lot of stamina.”

She kissed him back messily. “Yeah.  I’m counting on it.”

*****

President Lattimore was cross and whiny from the time the helicopter set down and he saw the Quinjet. Seeing Air Force One again, he’d been reminded of what it had been like to have a plane like that at his disposal, and from there, reminded himself of all the other perks of power.  He’d always liked being President.  Liked it much better than he’d liked actually running the country.  So he hadn’t done much of that.  He let others do it for him.  Now, though, he saw the small, boxy, utilitarian jet that was going to take him home, and resented it.  

Bucky was irritated. The man was a spoiled toddler, creating as much unpleasantness as he could to make himself feel important and, in the process, forcing a team of trained bodyguards, all with military backgrounds, to pay less than ideal attention to their jobs, in order to cater to his tantrum.  He complained about having to wait in the helicopter while three of his detail swept the Quinjet for dangers.  He insisted that Joss be the one who waited with him, which Bucky could have told him was a mistake.  Bucky’s sharp, perceptive eyes had identified quickly enough that Craig Thomas and Joss Emerson were head and shoulders above the rest of the Secret Service agents he’d met.  Since Thomas had gone back to D.C. with President Burke, that meant Lattimore was trusting his safety to what was very much the B-team.  

Once the team was satisfied, they allowed Lattimore and Joss to board the Quinjet while Bucky did his pre-flight check of the exterior.  When he boarded, he saw that Joss had Lattimore seated and was cooing a bunch of bullshit to him about how cool it was to be flown anywhere in a Quinjet, let alone with the Winter Soldier in the cockpit.  Lattimore was a little mollified, and Bucky tried to help Joss out by making his metal arm as obvious as possible and doing a rip-off of Steve’s big-chested hero routine, the one he put on when he wanted something from someone gullible.  Lattimore calmed down just enough that Bucky decided to let him make the trip on the inside of the jet.  Man, this dude was a tool.  Bucky was tempted to put a parachute on him and just toss him out over the Gulf of Mexico, let him swim back to Mobile.  But he was pretty sure Joss wouldn’t let him.

Bucky was glad when the noise of the engines blocked out the drone of Lattimore’s complaints.  It would’ve been fun to have Joss as his co-pilot, but fucking Voldemort wasn’t having it, so Jeff Traynor - one of the Secret Service guys - was in the right seat.  Bucky absolutely couldn’t understand how Joss put up with this Lattimore douche for four years.  He very much understood why she kept politely but firmly refusing his constant requests that she join his Secret Service detail.  

Eventually, Lattimore fell asleep, which allowed Joss to move up to the cockpit.  She wished she could have been Bucky’s copilot – that would have been something to remember when this was all over and he returned to being just a guy on the news and YouTube – but she could still spend some time watching him fly.  She’d been looking forward to it.

“Everything OK back there?” Bucky asked, looking up with a smile that made Joss tremble.

“He’s asleep.”

“What’d you do, sing a lullaby?”

Joss grinned.  “Whatever works.”

“Listen, not that I don’t want you up here, but you should strap in,” Bucky said, indicating the radar screen.  “We’re coming up on some weather.”

“I can take a little turbulence,” she shrugged.  “I’m Air Force.”

“Oh, yeah,” Bucky grinned evilly, and she knew she was not going to like whatever he said next.  “The Air Force.  That’s like the military, but with naptime, right?”

“Wait, what?”  She shrieked in mock dismay.  “You did not just make a joke about the Air Force.  It didn’t even exist when you served.”

“Yep.  Way I heard it, we won the war just fine without it.”

“Oh, man.  Maybe I will strap in, after all, just in case you take that whole ‘ground pounder’ thing seriously.”

“Was that supposed to be an insult?  You can do better than that.  Try again.”

“Nah,” Joss said, patting him on the shoulder.  “You must feel bad enough as it is.  I mean, you’re already Army.”

Joss could actually feel Bucky’s smile.  She was glad for the engine noise to cover her little involuntary whimper.  She went back to her seat, storing up the sound of his deep chuckle to play in her memory once she returned home.  She sat on the starboard side of the plane, so she could watch him at the controls, trying to memorize all of the details of his profile and the way he handled the jet with such confidence and grace.

*****

By the late afternoon, Bruce had finished running Tony and Catherine through the last of the data he’d collected in D.C., and Catherine was working her way through everything they had on the other phenomena.  Bruce and Tony were muttering together before a series of screens, trying to put some theories together.  

“Wait, wait, wait…” Catherine cried, surprising Tony and Bruce, who turned to her.

“What?”  They said in unison.

“This is the most cocked-up hurricane I’ve ever seen.  It’s all wrong.  First and most obvious, hurricane can’t spin clockwise in the Phillipine Sea.  This one did.  It can’t have, but it did.  And it’s not shaped right.  It’s way too small, and…  It didn’t hit land, which would explain why it wasn’t news, but why didn’t the Institute hear about this?  This is… This can’t happen.”

At that moment, Friday interrupted.  “Excuse me, Boss, Doctors.”

“What is it, Friday?” Tony asked.

“Director Coulson is calling.  It seems another energy spike has been detected in the United States.”

“Where?”

“Atlanta, Georgia.”

“And?  Any phenomena?”

“Yes, Boss.  A rather unusually violent thunderstorm.  I’ll connect Director Coulson.”

“Stark?”  S.H.I.E.L.D. director Phil Coulson’s voice came over the speakers.  

“Coulson, you got a hit?”

“We do.  I’ve got agents on the way, and I’ve notified the White House.”

“You need us there?”

“Not yet, but stand by. We might need you, depending on what we find.  I’m already sending you the data we have so far.”

“So tell me about this storm,” Bruce said.  

“It’s a nightmare. Came up out of basically nowhere, a few storm systems just suddenly decided to collide, and now we’re getting reports of lightning storms and hurricane-force wind gusts.”

“Wait, Atlanta?”  Tony suddenly stiffened and turned around, stepping to an adjacent work table and waving another screen into brilliance. He navigated it with a few quick flicks of his hand, and a map of the U.S. appeared, with a blinking green blip near the Southeastern corner.  “Shit!”

“What’s the matter,” Catherine asked, keying in to Tony’s sudden deep concern.

“That’s the Quinjet. That’s Barnes’s plane.  And they’re basically right over Atlanta.”

“He knows to fly around a storm,” Bruce said, trying to sound confident.

“Stark,” Director Coulson said, “Are you looking at a readout tracking Barnes’s plane? Superimpose it over the data I just sent.  Let’s see where they are in relation to the storm.  Like I said, these systems collided out of nowhere.”

Tony did some more flicking and waving of his hands, then an irregular, red blot appeared on the map, with the blinking green dot well within its borders.

“Fuck,” Tony hissed.

*****

President Lattimore awoke with a start when the Quinjet seemed to drop precipitously, followed by a jarring thud.  He would have been awakened a second later, anyway, by Bucky’s very creative, very loud string of curses.  

“You all strapped in back there?”  Bucky called.

Two of the Secret Service agents hadn’t been, and one of them was now rushing to hook his seat harness while the other one was getting up from his knees, holding his forehead where blood was already seeping around his fingers.

“Eric, shit!” Joss yelled, looking frantically around her seat for something to use on the wound. No one could get up for the first aid kit right now, with the Quinjet suddenly buffeted by severe turbulence that rattled Joss’s teeth together.  She finally pulled the scarf from around her neck and reached it over to him as he finished fastening his harness.  “Use that.”

She watched as he blotted at his forehead.  They hit another, worse patch and the jet was thrown sideways and tilted to the left, knocking the air out of Joss’s lungs.  Because she was thrown against her seat harness and her head whipped to the side, she was looking out the window when a blinding, jagged streak of lightning ripped through the cloud enveloping them.  She was shocked.  One minute, they’d been in a white cloudbank, a little bumpy but not enough to even warrant a harness.  Now, suddenly, the world had gone dark, and they were in the midst of a roiling mass of stormcloud tossing them around and riddled with nearly-constant lightning.  She’d flown in plenty of storms, but nothing like this.

In fact, she’d never seen a storm like this.  The darkness had seemed to slam down like a curtain, and the clouds were producing more lightning than she’d ever seen.  It felt unnatural.  It felt malevolent.  

Over the sound of the engine and the banging of the almost ceaseless turbulence, she could hear Bucky shouting into his radio headset.  It was impossible to hear every word, but she could hear frequent cries of, “Say again?” and “Repeat that last!”  

She clutched the arms of her seat, looking out at the swirling clouds, lit by the incessant lightning, being careful to keep her tongue away from her teeth to avoid biting it as her jaws were slammed together by the buffeting.  One of the other agents had already done that, and was now stuffing his tie into his mouth to absorb the blood and keep it from happening again.  

Normally, Joss would have enjoyed the ride.  She knew aircraft, and had been through her share of sporty flights.  But this… this was frightening.  Lightning striking an aircraft was normally no threat. Aircraft were designed to be struck by lightning, because it happened all the time.  This storm, though, was testing her faith in that knowledge.  She’d never even imagined a storm like this.  She hoped the design engineers had.  

Turbulence, while unpleasant, was normally not a problem, either.  Planes were designed to withstand turbulence, of course, which was a routine occurrence.  This, though… She’d never been in turbulence this severe.  Not even close.  President Lattimore was already sporting what would become a fairly bad bruise where a book he’d had on his lap had hit his cheek.  Fortunately, there wasn’t much else sitting loose in the cabin, because anything that wasn’t anchored became a missile with some of the hits they were taking.

Joss watched as Bucky and Jeff Traynor fought the storm.  She could see and feel that they had far less control of the aircraft than they should have, even in a turbulent storm.  She could see them shouting to each other, but the roar of the stressed engines and the constant barrage of turbulence made it impossible to hear what they were saying.  

She didn’t need to hear them to know when the airframe experienced a catastrophic failure.  The most violent upheaval she’d ever felt knocked her head against the window, stunning her briefly.  She shook her head, trying to reorient herself before realizing that it wasn’t the blow to her skull that was causing her sense of disequilibrium. Things seemed crooked because they were crooked.  That last jolt had damaged something that was making it almost impossible for Bucky and Jeff to control the Quinjet.  

They fought it.  They worked together, Bucky screaming instructions as they did everything they could to keep the jet in the air.  When it was clear that wasn’t going to happen, Joss closed her eyes and tried to remember how to pray.  

[lovemesomerafael]

Destroying The Planet To Save It   Chapter 14:  I Love You, You Imbecile

Chapters 1-10   Chapter 11  Chapter 12   Chapter 13   Read It On AO3

Tony Stark was so anxious to get back to his lab that he’d arranged for a helicopter from the airport to the tower.  Not that anyone minded, especially Joss, who was actually relieved not to have to maintain a neutral expression riding the limo bus again.  Steve just appreciated getting Sharon back to the tower, and alone, more quickly.  

He looked out the window at the city passing below, lit as brightly as day, for the most part, just in different colors.  He felt Sharon pressing full-length against his side, their hands clasped, and realized that he was assuming that she’d be staying with him.  They hadn’t been able to talk about it on the plane, because they’d ridden the rest of the flight sitting around the table with Bucky and Joss, talking and laughing.  And they couldn’t talk about it now, because they’d have to do so over their headsets, which were connected to those of the other four people on the chopper.  

In some ways, it felt like things with Sharon had barely begun.  Steve felt hesitant and timid about anything that suggested moving things forward, afraid that they’d reach a point where he felt more for her than she did for him.  But things between them had also been brewing for a long time.  They had worked together, and gone to events together, for months now.  Now, everything just felt so right with her that he sometimes forgot how little time had passed since their relationship had become…  The word that came to his mind was serious.  Mostly because he didn’t want to use the word sexual.  Because it wasn’t just sex.  Not for Steve.  

When the helicopter landed on the pad at the Tower, Tony wasted no time getting into the building, undoubtedly going straight to his lab.  A couple of Tony’s staffers had met it and begun to help the pilot unload the team’s gear.  Among the items was a metal-sided case that looked like an oversized suitcase.  

“What’s that?”  Bucky asked, pointing to it.

Steve looked, and realized he’d forgotten to tell them.  “Oh, that’s all the weapons from the locker on the Quinjet.  When they were done photographing the wreckage, they packed them up and gave them to me.  You were at the hospital.”

Both Bucky and Joss lit up and immediately made for the case.  They looked like kids at Christmas, opening it right there on the helipad.  

“My Infidel!”  Steve heard Joss exclaim while lifting what looked like a knife handle.  He moved past them, grinning fondly.  If he knew Bucky – and he did – he was going to be busy reuniting with his weapons for a while.  And from the sound of Joss’s voice, Bucky was going to have company.  

As a result, Steve and Sharon found themselves alone on the elevator.  

“Those two are going to be trouble together,” Sharon commented when the doors closed.

“Probably,” Steve agreed distractedly.  He shuffled from foot to foot, looking at the floor numbers change while he fumbled with the handles of the gym bag of clothing he’d taken to Atlanta.  

Sharon cocked an eyebrow at him.  “What’s the matter?”

Steve blinked.  “Huh?”

“You’re nervous all of a sudden.  Why?”

“I’m not…  Do I seem nervous?”

“A little, yeah.  It’s kinda cute.”

Steve blushed.  “Is it?”

“What’s the problem, Steve?” Sharon’s voice was soft and now tinged with a bit of concern.

“Nothing.  There’s no problem, I’m fine.  Glad to be back, actually.”

Sharon shifted her tote bag to the arm away from Steve and moved to stand with her side touching his. “Well, then maybe you can help me with a little problem I have.”

“What’s that?”

She looked up at him. “I don’t know where I’m sleeping tonight.”

If Steve had been blushing before, he was positively red-faced now.  “I’ve been, uh, thinking about that,” he said, looking down at his hands as they worried the handles of his bag.

“And?”

Steve had needed less courage to stare down superpowered reptiles than to say what he said next. “And I wondered if you’d, uh, you know, stay with me.”  

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Sharon replied, smiling radiantly.  

Suddenly, Steve was no longer nervous at all.  Because once again, she’d simply asked for what she wanted, and it was the exact thing Steve wanted.  This woman.  

The elevator doors opened on the residence floor where Steve’s apartment was, and he motioned for Sharon to precede him into the hallway.  Neither said anything as they walked to his door, or even as they made their way through his living room to the bedroom and set their things down on the bed.

“There’s, um…  That whole dresser is empty,” he said, indicating. “And plenty of room in the closet.”

Sharon turned to him and tilted her head.  “Are you sure this is what you want?  Because we don’t have to.  I’ll be fine if you-“

“No, no.  It’s not that.”

“Then what?”

“It’s just…  I never, uh…  did this before.  You know, stayed with someone.  A woman.”

Sharon slid an arm around his waist, cupping his cheek in her hand.  Her sweet, slightly amused smile felt somehow healing, like she was pouring a soothing salve on his raw emotions.  “You are so…”

“What?”  He asked softly, but now able to smile a little, too. He couldn’t have avoided taking her into his arms if he’d tried, and he sure as hell didn’t try.

“You’re just so… good. I see you giving orders, planning missions…  You jump out of aircraft without a parachute.  No matter how tired you get, no matter how hurt, you fight until the last enemy is gone and you’re a heaving, bloody mess.  You should be hard, jaded.  You should probably be a damn monster.  But you’re not.  You’re this old-fashioned, tender-hearted guy who’s actually afraid he’s going to offend me.”

“Is that bad?”

“Is that bad?” She scoffed softly.  “No, Steve, it isn’t bad.  It’s…  It’s… Damn near magical.”

“Magical,” he smiled, tilting his face toward hers.

“Steve,” she whispered, stopping him just before he kissed her.  “I love you.  You’re not going to offend me.  Or move too fast for me.  But you should know, you could easily break my heart.  So if you want to be careful, be careful about that.  OK?”

“I’m not gonna break your heart, Sharon.  I promise.”

When he kissed her, he was as gentle as he knew how to be, even though he could feel his blood heating already.  She loved him.  He couldn’t imagine why, or how he could possibly deserve the love of a woman like Sharon Carter.  But he knew that he would never intentionally hurt her.  In fact, he realized, he’d rip the limbs off of anyone who tried.

He took his time making love to her, paying attention only to her pleasure, whispering heartfelt compliments and relishing every sound she made.  He felt emotional, as though there was something at stake, like maybe if he could make her feel good enough, deluge her with enough sensual satisfaction, he might possibly begin to be worthy of her.  

He didn’t even know that, when he finally allowed himself to give in to his own need for completion, he said her name so reverently she felt tears in her eyes.

*****

Neither Bucky nor Joss had brought anything but weapons on the flight that had crashed in Atlanta. They were just ferrying President Lattimore home, and then Bucky was supposed to take Joss back to Washington, D.C. and return to New York.  Despite the reason, he hadn’t been sorry that he got some extra days with her in Atlanta, and he was especially glad that she was going to stay in New York for at least a few more days.  But it meant that she didn’t have anything to wear.  The sum total of her luggage at this point was two sets of official Avengerswear™ Bucky Barnes sleepwear.  

They’d discussed it on the plane and had a laugh about the fact that she was, at least, not short of things to wear to bed.  Bucky found it hilarious that she’d kept the nightgown Tony Stark had given her, and had taken full advantage of opportunities to tease her about it.  Joss planned to go shopping first thing the next day.  

The other thing they’d planned was to get the surgical staples out of Joss’s abdomen as soon as possible.  Which was why, at that moment, Bucky and Joss were on the medical floor of Stark Tower, rummaging through supply cabinets looking for a staple remover.  Bucky casually mentioned the fact that he knew what he was looking for because of the insane number of severe injuries he’d endured when he was Hydra’s captive weapon, as though there was nothing horrifying about that.  Joss could only try not to look angry and sickened at what he’d been through.

When they found what they were looking for, Bucky asked Joss whether she wanted him to remove her staples there on the medical floor, or down in his rooms.  She swallowed.  It hadn’t occurred to her that he would be removing them.  It made sense; she didn’t know how to do it, and it would be much easier for him to do it than for her to do it herself.  She also didn’t know how to object, or even whether she really wanted to.  She did know, however, that Bucky hated anything having to do with doctors or medical facilities.  He’d just spent the better part of two days enduring a hospital just to be by her side; she wasn’t about to make him put up with any more.   So they went to his apartment, which was on the same floor with the room she’d stayed in previously and was assigned again.  

Joss lay on a creamy leather couch, head on a pillow against one arm, with her white oxford shirt unbuttoned up to her bra line, and her jeans undone and pulled down on her hips to reveal the long line of shiny, silver staples.  She felt exposed and vulnerable, which was somehow deeply erotic.  She knew that Bucky would never hurt her or take advantage of her, and she also knew that there was nothing she wanted more than for him to put his hands on her.  There was a tension in the air that showed itself in the stiff, awkward way that both of them were speaking and the frequent nervous laughter as Bucky knelt beside the couch with the little metal tool in his hand.  It looked to Joss like a very simple fingernail clippers.

“Is this gonna hurt?” She asked, looking down and realizing that there were a lot of damn staples.

“Not really.  It can pull a little, and you’re healed around these staples pretty good, so…  It might pinch a bit.  Let me know if I’m hurting you.  Here, I’ll just do one so you can see what it’s like.”

Bucky slid the two little teeth of the tool under the visible part of a staple and pushed down on one side of the tool with his thumb, which brought a third little tooth down between the first two, and bent the staple into a V.  That lifted the two sides out of Joss’s skin, and Bucky then discarded the staple into the package the tool had come in.  “See?  Easy.”

“Yeah.  OK, that’s no big deal.”  

The fact that removing the staples wasn’t a big deal, itself, became somewhat of a big deal, because it allowed Bucky to pay attention to the silky skin of Joss’s torso. He wanted to slide his hand down her body, to smooth a finger over the hint of definition between the tight, flat muscles beneath, and especially to run his tongue along the disturbingly sexy indentation that ran from her navel to between her breasts – and don’t even get him started on those.   And he and Joss were there a while, her laying quietly watching him as he tried like hell not to make a fool out of himself.  

She was having her own troubles, seeing the little wrinkle between his eyebrows as he concentrated, and the deep blue-gray of his eyes.  She damn near swooned when he pushed a lock of his dark hair behind an ear. She couldn’t help but look at his lips, which were really too beautiful for a man, but somehow insanely masculine with his square jaw and facial scruff.  Those lips had been kissing hers – was it really just a few hours ago? – on a continuous loop in her mind since it happened, and that wasn’t making it easy for her to just lay there, clothes pulled away from most of her body, while he slowly made his way down her torso.  

“Ouch!”  She hissed, jerking upwards as he came to a staple that was particularly fond of its current position.

“Sorry!  Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“No, I know, it’s OK. It was just kinda sharp.  I wasn’t expecting it.”

“I know.  Been there.  You OK to go on?”  His blue eyes met hers and she just about flinched again.

“Yeah.  Yeah, I’m OK,” she almost whispered.  He bent down to the next staple.  

By the time all the staples were removed, both Bucky and Joss were fighting arousal they didn’t know how to acknowledge.  Especially when, unable to resist, Bucky ran a hand from her belly all the way up to her chest, stopping just short of her breasts.  She sucked in her breath and their eyes met.  

“That’s better,” he murmured.

Joss looked quickly away. “I should, um…” she began, and moved to sit up.  Bucky helped her.  They suddenly found themselves in the same position they’d been in earlier that day, with her sitting and him kneeling in front of her.  

This time, when their eyes met, Joss couldn’t look away.  Neither could Bucky.  All at once, he realized that her flushed cheeks and slightly dilated eyes meant she was feeling the same things he was.  His desire doubled.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her lips just a little pouty as she unconsciously began to lean toward him.

In response, with his flesh hand, he cradled her face, his thumb under her jaw and fingers splayed across her cheek as he closed the distance and fit his lips to hers.  

It felt exactly right to be kissing this man with whom Joss had been spending so much time, becoming more and more attached with everything he said and did.  His beauty, too, was changing for her.  Whereas before, she’d been deeply attracted to the handsome face, the exquisitely-formed and chiseled body, now overlaid on those still-very-present qualities was the experience of being the one he was smiling at, seeing his expressive face react to something she herself had said.  She knew now that he was much, much more than simply the Winter Soldier, deadly grace and steel.  He was also a real man, kind and gentle and caring, who kissed like the raunchiest and most carnal angel ever created.

It was all here in this moment.  She was alone with him, now kneeling together on the floor, kissing and being kissed in a way that promised that her most sordid fantasies might have fallen short of the reality.  All she had to do was exactly what she wanted to do, what she was doing, opening her mouth to him and sliding her tongue along his, letting him direct the angles and depths of their kisses.  Arching into him as he slid that magnificent metal hand inside her still-mostly-unbuttoned oxford to stroke her back.  She could follow her body’s demands, and the definite suggestions Bucky’s body was giving her, and experience the night of her life with a man who was pretty much everything she’d ever dreamed of.

And that was exactly the problem.

It was one night. Maybe a few.  A handful of nights with a man she’d been fantasizing about for months, whose reality, it turned out, blew her fantasies all to hell – she’d never imagined he’d taste so fucking good, for one thing – that would rock her world and ruin her for all other men.  And then she’d go back to her real life, and he’d go back to being Bucky Barnes, supersoldier.  She’d go back to her mass-produced little one-bedroom apartment in D.C., and he’d go back to helicopters, private jets, and an apartment in fucking Stark tower. Joss loved her job, and she was proud of what she did.  She was basically happy.  But she was ordinary with a capital “O”, and he had his picture on damned pajamas.  He was a fucking superhero, for fuck’s sake, he was routinely seen on the news fighting aliens and robots and shit with the Avengers.  She was routinely not seen on the news, although she was there,  somewhere behind the President with her hands folded in front of her and an earpiece snaking out from her collar, seemingly doing absolutely nothing.

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t continue to pretend that she was someone who could possibly matter to Bucky Barnes, let herself actually think it for a little while, when the fact of the matter was, she was completely insignificant.  Worse, much worse, she was a damned mutant, and now he knew it.  The idea of going back to her humdrum little apartment, her drab and uninteresting life with her humiliating secret, would be intolerable once she actually let herself experience a little of what it would be like to actually matter to Bucky.  

Which is why she gritted her teeth and took her arms from around him, putting her hands on his chest to separate them.  She stood shakily, unable to avoid noticing the surprised hurt in his pretty, pretty eyes. They were both panting a little, which she used to fake a little laugh.  

“Sorry, got a little carried away there,” she mumbled, turning to move toward the door.  

“Joss, what-“

“Thanks again for taking those staples out.  Glad that’s done.  I’m beat. I’m gonna go to bed.”

“Wait-“

She reached the door and tried to open it, but realized that it was locked and had to take a moment to figure out the mechanism.  Of course it would be electronic; this was Stark Tower, after all.  Bucky was standing behind her before she got the door open.

“Joss, wait a second. Please.”

She started to say something flippant, to get out of there before the damn tears she could feel coming actually formed.  But she made the mistake of turning around and looking at Bucky’s face.  His, deeply troubled, concerned and anxious face.  

“Did I do something wrong?  Whatever it was, I’m sorry.  I understand if you want to leave, but I wish you’d tell me what-“

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Bucky.”  Here came the fucking traitorous tears.  “I’m just tired, and I need to get some sleep.  I’ll see you in the morning.”

“C’mon, you’re crying. I know I did something-“

And then she was out the door and practically running toward the door of her room, tossing a supremely fake-sounding “Good night” over her shoulder.  Which left Bucky standing, open-mouthed and confused, watching her go. He’d really thought she liked him. It sure felt like that, when she’d been kissing him back.  But he’d certainly messed up somehow, because he’d made her cry and run out of his apartment like her ass was on fire.  He felt like a prize idiot.  He felt like President Lattimore, leering and pawing at Joss, making himself ridiculous and annoying her.  Yeah, he had most definitely lost his touch.

*****

Clint lay on his side, watching Natasha stare at the ceiling.  He could feel, through the hand stretched out on her stomach, that she was calm and relaxed. But he could also see in the line of her brows that whatever thoughts had her in their grip, they weren’t pleasant.

“Tasha, come back,” he whispered.

She turned her head slightly, acknowledging with a grin that she’d been far, far away.  “Do you think we should go say hi to the others?”

“I think we should stay right here.”  He pulled her close, reveling in the fact that she instinctively snuggled her body into his.  

They’d heard the helicopter, which had caused Natasha to start thinking about what, if anything, they should say to the others about how things had changed between herself and Clint. Which led to memories and misgivings, as always.  Voices, Russian voices, telling her that trust is fatal, that emotions are for the weak, that love is for children.  The face of another man, now long dead, shining with adoration as he slipped a ring on her finger.  The stupendous effort of maintaining a clean, ice-cold absence of emotion as, mere weeks later, she’d shot him in the forehead as he came toward her, arms open, smiling in welcome.  For some reason, the hat she’d worn to the airport that day as she’d left Abu Dhabi for her next assignment.

She squeezed her eyes shut and willed her mind to clear, breathing in the warm scent of their bodies as she pressed her face into Clint’s neck.  There was nothing she could do about the shiver that wracked her frame as she clung to the man she would love with all her soul, if she had one.

She didn’t know when he started stroking her.  He’d been so soft and gentle, so slow and unassuming about it, that she was wet and moving against him before she even became conscious that it had begun. Years of denied want remained unsatisfied within her, even as many times and ways as they’d made love already tonight. Now she again made a stupendous effort to control her emotions.  Only this time, it was her bone-deep terror she had to deny, and her overwhelming love that she let loose.  She trembled with the effort, and with sensation, and with the emotion itself, so much more powerful than she was.  

If her fingers, and her arms, and her legs, hurt him as she clung so desperately to him, Clint gave no indication of it.  He paid attention only to the near-chant of her voice, telling him over and over that she loved him, that they were stronger together, that she would die for him. He surrendered to the sweet, poignant ache in his heart as she surrendered her body to him, wanting him on top of her, directing their movements.  She wanted – needed - him to take control for both of them.  In all the time they’d known one another, he’d never seen that in her, except when they were together, like this, as naked emotionally as they were physically.  And only very, very rarely, even then.  The first times they’d made love in Talinn.  On Eleuthera, when she’d told him she loved him for the first time. And now.

*****

Sam Wilson had a choice to make.  Well, he didn’t, really, but he felt like he should have.  He could sit down with Anita and share all the information they’d gathered since they’d last been free to speak about it, or he could drag her into his bed. The team meeting wasn’t for another day, and Anita was right here, right now.  So, yeah.  Not really a choice.  

When they stepped into his apartment in the Tower, he turned the lights on, for the first time using the settings in the little panel by the door he’d initially laughed at.  Sure, he’d played around with them, but he’d never had a use for anything but the “Standard” setting until now.  Now, he had a definite use for the “Soft” setting.  

He smirked at her once they’d tossed their small amount of luggage into his bedroom and kicked off their shoes, taking his phone from his pocket and dropping it into the dock.  She watched him touch a few things on the screen before the speakers hidden throughout the room began to play the most sultry, soulful music Sam had on his phone.  

Anita didn’t need an invitation.  She glided over to him, drifting into his arms as, at the same moment, he began to move. Part of the reason Sam Wilson had so completely mastered the EXO-7 was that he knew his body and was in absolute command of his every movement.  He was a natural dancer, graceful and fluid, but he also knew exactly what he was doing. There was no hesitation or extra motion. He knew where he wanted his feet to go, how far he wanted to bend or twist, how he needed to move to let Anita know where they were going next, and his body simply made it happen.  Dancing, for Sam, was so instinctive that he could pay very little attention to the steps and focus on his partner.  Which he was very much doing.  

The look on his face was that of a man who knew he was talented, and was enjoying using that talent.  But Anita was well aware of the smoldering lust just underneath.  He looked damn near predatory.  She wondered what kind of a look she was giving him, and could only hope it was more “Yessssss, Daddy” than deer in the headlights. Because she was feeling pretty much equal measures of both.  Still, she was also a very talented dancer, which meant that she was able to follow him, flowing across the floor with ease and making sure their bodies made as much contact as possible, even though most of her mind was on very different aspects of what was happening with her body.

She was the one who first began to remove clothing.  Not that she wasn’t enjoying the living hell out of their sultry dance, but their moves had gotten progressively more lewd with every song, and she needed more skin on skin contact.  The Bachata Sam had chosen had become increasingly sexy the longer they danced, until she was grinding indecently on his knee every time he slipped it between her thighs, and he was running his hand fully up her body, caressing her breasts, every time he dipped her back over his arm.  They somehow found a way to work the dance, moving in time with the music even as she slid his shirt from him.  He was definitely working it when he slid his hands down her body, past her hips, to her thighs, then brought them back up, lifting the short skirt of her sundress so that he could grasp her ass, using his hands to direct the obscene movement of her pelvis against him.  

They kissed each other, but only in passing, when the dance steps brought their faces together.  As Sam began, after a while, to slide his hands up Anita’s body, bringing the fabric of her dress with them, they continued to move to the rhythm, even turning and travelling across the floor, until he pulled the dress over her head, tossing it out of the way without losing eye contact.  Then he spun her, so that she ended up with her back to his chest, straddling his thigh. They spent a long time like that, her head thrown back against his shoulder as he ran his hands over her, somehow still dancing even as he stroked her breasts and nuzzled her neck.  It was no trouble for him, with his long arms, to slide his hand inside her panties and finger her as she moaned, then slip the lacy lingerie down her hips, so that they fell to the floor and she could kick them away.  

That was when he turned her around again, their lascivious movements taking them toward the wall just outside the bedroom door.  He stopped a few steps from it, quickly relieving himself of his jeans, keeping his eyes on hers the entire time.  He danced her a few steps until her back was to the wall, grinding his pelvis against her to the rhythm of the music as he kissed her deeply, groaning with the need they had stoked.  As a new song began, she lifted one leg and wrapped it around him, stroking one hand down his chest and abdomen, to grasp his cock and position them so that he plunged into her and began to move in and out of herm still in rhythm with the libidinous beat of the music.  

Sam didn’t stand a chance of lasting until he could make Anita come in this position.  He didn’t even know if she could.  So he reached his hand between them, sliding it down until his fingertips reached her clit. “Show me,” he murmured against her lips.

Before the song ended, they were both crying out in fulfillment.

*****

Bruce wasn’t in the least surprised that, when he woke her somewhere in the middle of the night, Catherine was still mad.  Not that it meant she stopped him from what he’d awakened her doing, because Bruce could teach a doctorate-level class in oral sex, and Catherine was no fool.  But it did mean that, for every compliment or sweet nothing he murmured to her, she responded with a breathless curse.  Even when she told him that she loved him, which she did frequently, it was never in isolation.  There was always something added, something like “damn it” or “you imbecile.”  

He’d somehow forgotten she did that, or how adorable it was.  He’d also forgotten about Catherine and angry sex.  He’d tried to snuggle up to her after the intense climax he’d brought her to.  She would have none of it.  She grabbed the arm he wrapped around her, turning furiously toward him and using it to pull him onto his back and then pinning it to the mattress with her hand on his wrist.  If Bruce was entirely honest with himself, he wasn’t sure he could actually have gotten away. Not that he tried.

“Don’t you dare bloody try to cuddle me, you selfish yob,” she grunted, throwing a leg over him and impaling herself on his cock.  “We are not a happy couple!”  

She now had his other wrist in her hand, pinned to the mattress to the side of his head.  She set a brutal rhythm, scowling down at him. “Fucking gorgeous, aren’t you? All puppy eyes and those damn kissable lips,” she growled as she brutalized his lips with hers, making sure to thoroughly invade his mouth with her tongue.

“Damn…  Oh, my Cathy…”

“Don’t you ‘my Cathy’ me. Of course I’m fucking yours. What bloody choice do I have when I love you like this?  But it’s bloody rude of you to call me that, when you’re not fucking mine.”

“I…  Fuck, Cathy…”

“Well, you’re mine right this minute, aren’t you?  As long as I do this.  So maybe I slow down.”  She did, and Bruce practically wailed.  She whispered now.  “Maybe I slide off of you, like this, so you’re barely inside me at all, hmm?  And if you lift those hips one millimeter, Banner, I swear I will slide all the way off and leave you hanging.”  He stopped where he was, lowering himself back onto the mattress with a moan.  

“That’s it.  You made all the decisions out there.  But right here, right now?  I’m making the decisions.  And as long as I don’t let you come, I can keep you right here, where you fucking belong, damn you, with me.”

“Fuck, you feel so good! I love you, Cathy, I love you so much…”

“I love you, too,” she whispered, kissing him again, suddenly all softness.  “I love you.  All I want is you…”  

“Cath, I gotta-“

It was the wrong thing to say.  

“I know,” she crooned evilly, lifting up to put her weight on her forearms and drag her breasts across his chest, moving just fast enough to tantalize him, but not fast enough to push him over the crest.  Not yet. “I know you need to come, Bruce.  But you’re going to stay with me.  You’re going to lay here, just like this, and let me fuck you the way I want to.  And I know it’s hard, I know you me to let you up so you can fuck me, but I’m not going to. I’m going to keep on, just like this. So slow…  And it’s driving you crazy, isn’t it?  How good it is, how deep…”

Bruce’s breathing became shallower, his body tightening.  

“That’s it,” Catherine whispered.  “I can feel it, you’re right on the edge…”

Bruce let out an inarticulate groan as the first tendrils of pleasure began to drift through him, drawn out unbearably by the languid pace at which she rode him.  

“That’s right…  You’ll have to wait for it…  I’m just going to keep fucking you so slow, make you wait until it comes to you, just like you make me wait for you…”

Bruce was now holding his breath, willing the slowly building threads of electricity to twist together, his entire existence stripped to Catherine’s voice and the unbelievably slow orgasm coursing through him.  The sensation grew, moving faster now, although she didn’t change her rhythm as she slid up and down on his cock.  Finally, when he was reduced to whining thinly, desperate for his release to overtake him, the first hard wave reached him and he felt himself begin to spurt into her.  With so little friction, it had taken forever, and the tension had built to such a level that he was bucking with the intensity of the waves that slammed into him, broken, stuttering shouts being ripped from him.  He was quickly oversensitive from the violence of his climax, but he was still coming for a very long time before it became too much.

“Cath…”  He whispered, no strength left to speak.  

She kissed him one last time, sweet and tender.  “I fucking hate you,” she purred, then rolled to her side, turning away from him.  He fell asleep almost instantly, still smiling.