Chasing The Shadow || Part I

Chasing the shadow || Part I

Summary: You're Ezio's friend. You meet him for the first time since many years. Words: 1407 Warnings: none  Author: Cass

[Y/F/C] - You favourite color  [Y/H/L] - Your hair length [Y/H/C] - Your hair color [Y/N] - Your name [Y/L/N] - Your last name 

You were living in Rome for a long time now, your parents moved out from Florence when you were 10 years old only. You left everything behind, your whole life, every good person and every friend, including your childhood friend named Ezio.

For a long time you were sending letters to him and he was writing back to you. One day everything has just stopped. You never heard anything from Ezio again and it was sad, it ripped your heart apart. You were close with him,  he was your best friend even if your parents didn’t like him.

You good remembered, how you both were running around streets of Florence, simply enjoying your time of youth, making troubles not once or twice.

You still could remember how sad he was when your parents were living the town with you by their side.

The only thing that has left you was a necklace, that Ezio and his mother had given you before you left Florence for good.

You sighed loudly playing with the jewellery, watching how beautiful Rome was. All those people, beautiful places, shops... It was your home now, a place where you were feeling safe.

Now you were living alone, your parents bought you house in a good district. They made sure, that you had everything that you needed and they were regularly paying you visits, which were a bit annoying for you. You were an adult woman now.

One day you decided to go and make small shopping for the evening. You put on your favorite long, [Y/F/C] dress, than slowly brushed your [Y/H/L], [Y/H/C] hair and looked  at your reflection in the mirror. You looked like a real aristocrat, you only smiled at yourself and quickly grabbed your basket and some of the money.

The weather was nice and the city was calm, like really calm. Guards were walking thought streets, bards were playing happy songs on their instruments (two bards even got some money from you). And finally you found your shops.

Shopping went rather quick, you good knew what you had wanted to buy and how much you had wanted to buy. It never was a problem for you.

During your way back home someone ran into you. It was a man, dressed in white raiment with a hood on. He quickly grabbed your elbow before you fell on the ground. “Mi dispiace veramente, signora”. Man only said, he made sure you are standing still and he continued his runaway.

“Imbecille!” you yelled after him and in the same moment you saw group of guards, they were following the stranger.

You spend whole day sitting on the balcony, thinking about your accidental meeting with the man n the street. You still could see him in your thoughts. He looked like someone strong, someone in hurry, but he remained polite, he probably was dangerous. The hood, guards...

You only shook you head trying to get rid of those thoughts, because suddenly you heard a weird noises  form… Somewhere… You couldn’t really tell, from where they came, but then suddenly you saw the man from the town, but he didn’t look as good as then.

His white raiment was stained with blood, probably his own, he was tired and you could tell this basing on his breath and heavy gasps, that you both could hear. Probably guards got him earlier...

“Where is he?! He for sure went that way!” You could hear guards screams. You looked at weak man and pulled him inside your house, he was even too weak to protest. You quickly closed balcony doors.

“What you did?” You muttered as you laid man on your own bed.

You sat on bed and thought what you can do, then you decided to try to use the knowledge that you had from your friend, who was a doctor.

“I’m sorry, but I have to take it off… At least upper part of your clothes..” You said and slowly tried to take off his hood, but immediately he grabbed both of your hands. “Calm down, no matter who you are, my mouth are silent. I promise.” You said, looking at him. Man only nodded and let you remove his hood off. And you had to say, that he was handsome… Really handsome. You smiled at him softly and started to take care of his wounds. Sometimes he let out a hiss or a quiet moan, but it was all. For most of time he remained silent, being rude enough to look into your cleavage, when he was thinking you weren’t paying attention.

After an hour you sighed softly, than got up from bed. Man slowly sat up. “Grazie, signora.” ”Sei benvenuto, signore. It was nice to help you, but I think you should rest a bit and I’m more than sure you won’t be able to run tonight.” You smiled at man.

He smiled back softly. “I think you are right, signora. May I ask you a question?” You nodded slowly. “Of course, yes?” “Your necklace… Where did you get it?” He asked, watching you carefully. “It’s a gift from a friend.. I got it before I left my home town..” You only said and shrugged, taking necklace into your hand. “Goofing around streets of Florence? Getting into troubles? Spending whole days having fun?” Man asked, smiling at you. “Yes but how… You… Ezio… Ezio Auditore..?” You asked, you were deeply shocked, your eyes were wide and you had no idea, what was exactly happening now.

“One and only… [Y/N]  [Y/L/N]! My beloved friend!” Not paying attention to the pain, he simply got up from bed and took you into his arms, hugging you tight as he only could.

You laughed happily and almost started cry from happiness, right now you realised, how much you were missing him. You sighed and nuzzled to him.

“I missed you so much… I… I’m sorry… Few years after you left, so many things had happened in my life… That… I just lost my contact with you.” He said, still holding you tight in his arms.

You nodded. “It’s okay.” You took his hand and looked at him with tears in your eyes and with a big smile on your face. “We have whole night for each others.” Ezio stroked your cheek and nodded. “You are right.”

Both of you spent whole night at talking. He told you about terrible things that happen to his family and about what he had to do and who he had became. You told him, what was happening with you after you left Florence. You felt sorry for him, so many bad stuff happened to the man, but you were proud of him at the same time.

At morning Ezio put on his raiment and looked at you. “It was nice to see you again. I hope… We won’t lose contact this time…” You giggled and shook your head. “As long as you will find time for me in your busy life.” “Will you patch me up sometimes? It’s better than going to medics… I don’t need to pay.” He shrugged. You only laughed loudly. “Ezio, this house is big as you can see… And I live here alone. I can promise you that… You and your assassins will always find a help and shelter here, I will always be ready to take care of their wounds, give then place to proper rest and feed them with homemade dishes. It will be pleasure for me to help you.” “[Y/N]… I don’t know what to say… Grazie.” He hugged you. “You know… There is one thing that I wanted to do for so long… I wanted to do this before you left, but… We were too young.” You blinked. “But… What do you…”

You were cut off by a kiss, deep and strong one. When man broke the kiss ,you looked at him in shock. Ezio put on his hood and smiled at you briefly. “We will meet later, wait here at me. If something will happen, you know, where my sister and mother are. They will give a shelter to you. See you, bella.” He simply left your house, jumping out of the window.

You watched him for a bit and then you walked back to your bedroom. “Ezio Auditore… You’ve changed so much.” You whispered quietly under your breath, gently touching the necklace on your decolletage.

Christmas gift || Stony smut

WORD COUNT: 2299

WARNINGS: smut

AUTHOR: Killer raccoon 

Tony and Steve are spending the holidays in New York - just the two of them. No Clint, no Logan - and especially no SHIELD interference. Tony's made sure Jarvis won't let anyone call in to the house. There's a Christmas tree three times too big for the house sitting in the dead center of their living room, and Tony's made sure there are far too many presents settled on top of the tree skirt underneath of it. And the billionaire's even made sure to put lights up on the house, wreathes wherever he can, and he's got sprigs of mistletoe hanging around in the most inopportune places.

  There's a reason for that, too. For the first time in Tony's life, he feels at home for Christmas. He's been through many holiday seasons, most of them spent drunk on the balcony of his Los Angeles house while Pepper yells at him. But this Christmas, he's with Steve and they spend every evening sipping hot chocolate in front of their fireplace, watching Frosty the Snowman and Rudolph until they're ready to stumble their tired asses into bed. 

However, this particular night, Tony goes out for the day with promises that he'll make it up to Steve for leaving him alone - and doesn't come back until late. Of course, Steve can't be mad at him though because the soldier knows it's just Tony being Tony and there was a high chance that he was buying gifts. So instead of getting irritated, he simply greets his lover at the door with a kiss and a cup of hot chocolate.

  "Good evening, my dear," Tony says as they walk side-by-side in to the kitchen. The whole house smells delicious and when they finally step onto tile, Tony can see why. "You made cookies? So basically when they injected that serum into you, you became perfect. Supersoldier, baker, master chef, artist - is there anything you can't do?"

Steve simply looks at him with a sheepish smile before rolling his eyes and murmuring for Tony to shut the hell up. Tony just grins before spotting the apron falling halfway off of the table.

"Oh, you did not wear an apron," he says, eyes wide and round. When Steve blushes and looks away, his mouth falls open slightly as well.

"Well I wasn't going to get cookie dough all over my clothes, Tony," Steve says with a smile, moving his gaze back to his boyfriend. When he sees the expression on the other man's face however, he laughs incredulously. "That seriously turns you on?"

"Well, the fact that you were wearing clothes kind of takes away from the image I had in my mind," Tony starts, then grins. "But yes. If I'd come home earlier I would have delighted in pushing you against the counter and getting those clothes off of -"

"Tony!" Steve says loudly, and it's at that very moment that the man in question notices his partner's blush. And the pink is traveling fast down his neck where Tony knows it'll flush his whole body. "Try one, I added a little more sugar then the recipe called for."

"From scratch, really? Okay, Mr. Perfect," Tony mumbles, sitting his mug down and reaching for one of the chocolate chip cookies. And as soon as he bites into it, he's ready to pull Steve into the living room and fuck him senseless. Because he really is Mr. Perfect and his cookies are delicious.

"So," Steve says after Tony's moaned his approval. "How was your day?" "Typical," the other man chirps as they make their way into the living room, mugs of hot chocolate and plate of cookies in hand. "Braved the snow and did some Christmas shopping. Did I ever mention that I hate the snow? Because I really, really hate the snow."

There's a fire going in the fireplace however and as soon as they sit down, Steve's pulling Tony into his lap so he can place his hands on his back, rubbing and kneading.

  "I know you do, but I love it," he laughs while the playboy sitting in between his legs murmurs in appreciation. "So what did you get me today?" "That's for me to know and you to find out!"

  "Unfair," Steve sighs, but he's got a huge smile on his face. And Tony lets it go, because he's too happy to argue - good natured or not. "You remember what tomorrow is, right?"

And when Tony pretends to think about it, Steve stops rubbing his back and sighs.

"Of course I do, darling," Tony laughs, and that's when his boyfriend wraps his arms around him. "I couldn't forget the day my life changed."

The soft tone in Tony's voice makes Steve press a kiss to his neck, and the shorter of the two men tilts his head just enough so he can connect their lips in a slow kiss. At Tony's request, all the lights in the living room are dimmed except the tree and the television, and he turns around on Steve's lap so he's got one leg on either side of him.

  "I love you, Tony," the soldier sighs, smiling against his lover's lips while they kiss. Tony's sliding his hands under Steve's far-too-tight flannel when he pauses to speak.

"I love you too Steve," he murmurs, parting so he can give his lover a smile. Because a lot of the time, people don't believe Tony Stark when he admits any feeling other than self-righteousness. But Steve Rogers has gotten past that little wall - not without work - but he knows it was worth it.

And that's when Steve slowly pushes Tony down onto the thick fur rug, settling in between his legs as they continue to kiss. They only part when they're getting dizzy from lack of air, while Tony's got his fingers occupied by unbuttoning his boyfriend's shirt. And when it's finally off, Steve tugs at the other's tie, crooked smile on his lips. 

"I was never good at putting ties on," he murmurs. "And I'm equally as awful at taking them off."

"I got it," Tony says, fiddling with the fabric and leaving his neck exposed so that Steve can lean down and press little kisses all the way up and down the stubble-covered skin. "I see what you did! You just wanted to get at - ah..." And he stops because Steve's got a hand in his hair and teeth are gently nipping at the skin directly behind his ear. Because it's common knowledge between them both that that's how you shut Tony Stark up. Soon, the billionaire's tie and shirt are gone as well and there's something very hard and very hot pressing against Steve's thigh.

  "Why do we wear clothes around the house? I mean really," Tony starts, "There's only the two of us and Jarvis here and Jarvis is an artificial intelligence so we should really just not wear clothes until we actually need to do something."

"Tony," Steve says softly, pressing his leg down and getting a lovely groan of appreciation in response. "You need to learn when to shut up."

"And you need to wear that apron for me." Is the retort he gets, while his partner grinds up slowly against him. All Steve can do is chuckle low in his throat while he slides his hand down Tony's bare skin to his dress pants. "And to get these poor pants off."

But before Steve can do just that, Tony's flipped them and has Steve pinned to the rug underneath him. His hands are on the waistband of his lover's jeans, unbuttoning and pulling at them.

"Up," he murmurs, and Steve complies by lifting his hips so that Tony can pull the offending piece of clothing off. Tony's pants come off quickly after, leaving them with only two sets of boxers between them - which the man on top gets rid of quickly. And after he grabs a bottle of lube from the coffee table drawer, he looks down at Steve.

"Is it my turn?" the soldier teases, the crooked smile back - which makes Tony's heart flutter even if he won't admit it. Once he gets confirmation, Tony's on his back on the floor and Steve's hovering above him, fingers slicked and gently probing at his boyfriend.

  "Damn, Steve," Tony gasps as a finger is slipped inside of him, making his back arch slightly off of the rug and a gasp to leave his lips. "Could you go any slower?" 

Steve simply presses another of his fingers inside of his boyfriend to shut him up. Their lips connect once more after that, kissing languidly while Steve opens him up. And surprisingly, the only noise in the room is the teleivision playing How The Grinch Stole Christmas, and the crackling of the fire. That is, until Tony flips them over again. 

"My turn," he says with a smile that would make the devil blush, slicking Steve up and running his hand up and down his erection before slowly descending onto it. Which makes him moan and grasp at his lover's chest. Until Steve draws him into another kiss, of course. 

Their pace starts slow - gentle, so Tony's moaning softly against his mouth and muttering his name when the part for air. But soon, as always, that just not enough for the playboy and he starts moving faster, up and down, sitting straight up so that Steve has to sit up to bury his face against his lover's neck. And that, well. That just makes Tony go a little crazy.

While Steve nips and sucks and wraps his hand around Tony's erection, the shorter of the two men is busy fucking himself until he's moaning his partner's name over and over again. 

"I love you Tony," Steve says, words soft and breathless. His arms are tight around Tony's back, holding their bodies flush together as they writhe and pant. 

"I love you too, Steve. Fucking," Tony gasps, his eyes closed and teeth worrying his bottom lip. "Love you. Like you don't even - you don't even know." It's not long before they both climax, gasping for breath and leaning against one another for support. And once they're cleaned up, they crawl onto the couch.

"Goodnight, Tony," Steve murmurs into his lover's ear as he wraps an arm around him from behind. However he can already hear soft snoring. 

Tony's woken up with a cup of coffee - two sugars and one creamer - and a very naked Captain America wearing only an apron. 

"See, you look lovely in just the apron," he says sleepily, accepting the coffee and grinning at his boyfriend. He's rewarded with a blush, a crooked smile, and a kiss, and he can't help the bemused grin as he sips on his drink. "Alright, alright. I'm up."

Sitting up slowly, Tony continues to sip at his coffee. He knows he should get dressed soon, because he has things to do but he just loves the sight of Steve in that damn apron and it makes him want to screw his brains out but not this early in the morning.

Steve perches himself next to him, drinking from his own mug and making life generally amazing for Tony. The fire is already crackling in the woodstove, and there's snow falling gently past the windows and basically Tony just really feels content. For once in his life, there's no paperwork, no Iron Man and Captain America, no Pepper or Fury or anything that would take him away from his happiness.

And blandly he realizes that he is happy. The thought kind of sends him reeling, because he's not used to it and he doesn't really realize when exactly his life changed or why he didn't notice his lifting mood. He wonders if maybe anyone else noticed before he did. After sending his thought process into space however, he rests his head on Steve's shoulder and sighs. "Gotta get dressed," he mumbles. "I have something for you." 

"Oh?" Steve replies, looking down at him and raising his eyebrows. "Well then, let's get a move on."

"Only if you wear that apron again sometime in the near future. Maybe Christmas Day? That would be a fantastic present." "We'll see."

"Tease," Tony says finally, shooting a smile at his lover. However they both rise once he finishes off his coffee, and walk their way into the bedroom to dress. Two oral incidents and a wardrobe malfunction later, Tony's leading them down into the depths of his workshop, smiling like the cat that got the cream the whole way while Steve silently wonders what Tony was about to get them into. His thoughts are derailed when they walk into the Garage and Tony walks over to a new Audi sitting in the dead center of the room. The license plate reads STARK11 and that's basically what makes Steve realize that it's for him. And while his boyfriend walks right over to the vehicle and leans against the side, he kind of stops dead in his tracks and just stares.

"Happy Anniversary, Steve," Tony murmurs, that small smile reserved only for Steve on his face. 

"Tony, I... You didn't have to -"

"It's a nonissue, darling. Really. You want to take it for a drive?"

"This is way, way too much, Anthony," Steve starts, and he can see the pout already forming on Tony's lips. "Plus it's snowing, and I'm pretty sure that thing doesn't have four wheel drive. Sorry, sweetheart."

"Well... We can at least break it in? I think there's enough room for me to get on your lap in -"

But he's cut off by Steve, who's walked over and crushed their lips together. "Happy Anniversary, Tony."

Andrea By @withoutashadowofhope

withoutashadowofhope: My version of Andrea

Omg!!!!! I love it!!! I love it soo much! she is cute!! ♥♥♥♥♥♥ ~Cass

The chronicles of the winter || Part XI

Part II  || Part III || Part IV || Part V || Part VI || Part VII|| Parta VIII || Part IX || Part X continuation of imagine 

Word Count: 6770

Warnings: strong language, blood and injuries

Author: Beast

"You're safe, you're safe…"

The words reached him gradually, spoken softly and warmly as his tentative grip on reality tightened. He felt awful, head swimming and senses dulled. He wanted nothing more than to give in to the lull of sleep, to let go of consciousness and fall back into the waiting darkness, but he knew that would leave him vulnerable. The awareness of his own body was painfully slow to return. He was lying on something soft, his shoulder ached with a pain like broken glass in his head, his mouth was far too dry and something was touching him.

For some odd reason, he wasn't as panicked as he thought he'd be. Concerned was a more accurate word; concerned about what was near him and who was speaking, but the voice was comforting and gentle, and his guard wasn't so quick to build up. It was familiar in some odd way that he couldn't quite put his finger on; it was nothing like the barking orders and fearful murmurs of the white-coated men who pulled him from the icy depths of cryostasis. He couldn't have been in cryo for that matter, he felt too warm for that, and waking from that death-sleep never happened on something soft; he always awoke strapped down on a metal table, alone.

Movement in front of him; someone was standing, walking away. He heard wooden floorboards creak softly underfoot. Not in the facility. That was assuring, but also alarming. Where the hell was he, if he wasn't back there? Memories came back in a fuzzy tangle of pain and confusion, not at all clear and providing no answers. All he could definitively pick out was running, running, running, and suffocating pain. It was too much of a jumbled mess to make sense of.

Testing his body was difficult. The pain was sharp enough to register through the programming, indicating that something was damaged severely. His thoughts were too sluggish for him to adequately catalog his own wounds in his mental checklist to relay to his handlers. Wait—the handlers are dead. That realization forced his eyes open, mind in desperate need of affirmation for that line of thought. The light, however dim it might have been, was oppressive and overpowering. He blinked several times before he could make out any semblance of detail. The walls were painted a warm, light color, with pictures and furniture scattered around the room. It was nothing like the sterile space he typically woke in. Everything about it was different, but not in an uncomfortable sort of way. He could see a pile of bloody clothes—mine?—off near the door, and was suddenly quite aware of how defenseless he felt.

"… Bucky?" the voice was so sudden it caused him to twitch, body suddenly tense and ready to spring when he caught sight of someone peeking in from a doorway across the room. His vision was still blurry but he thought he recognized him. When the person stepped closer he was sitting up in an instant—and instantly regretted it. The sharp movement caused a burst of warmth on his shoulder, choking down a yelp at the intense pain. He chanced looking away from the man, metal hand cautiously touching the back of his shoulder. The limb lacked tactile sensation, but he did determine there was something spongy and yielding there, and when he removed the hand, the fingers were covered in fresh blood. My shirt was removed and wounds tended to. Did the man do this?

The couch, he'd realized he was lying on one a few seconds prior, dipped slightly as the man sat down next to him, keeping enough space between them so he wasn't crowded. The fact that he had approached without him noticing was enough to alarm the asset into immediate guard. He pressed himself against the arm of the couch, back against it and wound as far away from the other as he could get it. He studied him intently, looking for any weapon or any item that was a danger. He was ready to defend himself at the slightest provocation.

"I brought you some juice, if you want something to drink." The man with the bright eyes spoke softly, offering him a clear plastic cup filled about halfway with the liquid, smiling at him with familiarity. It was brightly colored and somewhat unusual looking, but it smelled rather pleasant and his dry throat was suddenly at the forefront of his awareness. The confusion surrounding how he got here was still taking precedence in his mind, but the man, he remembered something about him. His voice was the one that had said he was safe. His hands were faintly stained with blood and his shirt was marred with it as well. He must be the one who treated me. He wasn't entirely sure why that thought was comforting, but it was.

Moments passed with no movement between the two, the assassin distrustful and rightfully wary. Kindness and compassion were both incredibly foreign concepts, locked out of him by layers and layers of ridged programming and conditioning. There had to be some reason this man was doing this. Was he being prepped for something?

He swallowed thickly, the dryness of his throat too much to ignore, and cautiously extended his metal hand out to take the offered cup. Eye contact was never broken, not giving the other the chance to do anything that could threaten him. The cup was fragile, thin plastic, and it took a little testing to make sure he wouldn't break it before he took it from him.

"Its orange juice," the man started, "I have milk or water if you'd rather have that?" was he asking for his preference? That was… he didn't really remember any time when anyone had asked what he'd wanted. He didn't respond and regarded the juice warily, but he eventually deemed it safe. It wasn't logical to go through all the effort of tending to his wounds just to poison him. Even with that thought in mind, his first sip was hesitant. It tasted overwhelmingly sweet, enough so that it almost made him gag, but he was so thirsty he probably would have taken just about anything.

Emily was standing on the corridor, listening to the conversation of two men. She sighed sadly, knowing that something was about to happen..

"Will you let me look at your shoulder?" the question was entirely unexpected, causing icy eyes to cut over to the other man, "It's bleeding again, and I'd like to get an actual bandage on it, if that's alright with you." He was asking his permission. The concept was almost intangible to his methodical mind. He had rarely been told what was happening to him, let alone given anything resembling a choice; when things needed to be done, things were done, and he had no say in them. He was interested in his wellbeing, so perhaps he was a new handler, to replace the ones that were dead.

"One round, sniper rifle, distance of several blocks." He repeated all the information he knew about the injury, "Bullet didn't exit, needs extraction." His voice was monotonous, not looking away from the man at his right. Several moments of silence passed before he watched the other man retrieve several items from the floor before sitting back down next to him, much closer this time. In response the soldier moved, sitting so that his back was to him so he could reach the wound easily. He was operating on programming and instinct, otherwise he never would have turned away from him.

"I'm going to take off the bandage now, let me know if it hurts and I'll stop." His voice was still that gentle tone that held a familiarity that he couldn't place. He didn't respond, just sipping the juice he had been given as he felt the other peel the blood-soaked fabric from the wound. To distract himself he tried to focus on the events that ended with him waking up in this place. He remembered something about the Strike team, about HYDRA, about desperately seeking out someone, about Robrax.

The asset tensed absentmindedly when he felt the other man dab at the wound with a cloth, wiping away the blood. He heard a hastily mumbled "sorry" from behind him before the work was continued, gentler than before. Minutes passed in silence, with the weapon sitting stilly and obediently as the taller man cleaned and dressed the wound. The disinfectant stung but he didn't show any discomfort, allowing him to clean the wound thoroughly as he let himself be lost in his own thoughts.

A hazy memory trickled into his mind of a cold and dimly-lit apartment, with himself and someone else sitting on a ratty old couch covered in moth-eaten blankets. The other person was scratching the stub of a charcoal pencil into a small sketchbook, bundled up in as many of those pathetic-looking blankets as he could and sitting as close to—me?—as was physically possible. He remembered feeling Steve, his name was Steve, shivering horribly even through all those blankets. It was winter, he'd just gotten over pneumonia, and he remembered how scared he'd been thinking he was going to lose him. But... why did he remember this? Were those memories actually his?

"… you still draw, don't you, Steve?" the soldier suddenly questioned, the degrading programming loosening its grip on his awareness now that he was fully awake. The other man, he remembered his name now. He was Steve Rogers. Captain Steve Rogers. He was the only face he could recall with any clarity, therefore he had to have held some significant importance to him at some time.

"I—" Steve faltered, finishing up wrapping gauze tape around his shoulder to hold the sterile packing in place, "Y-yeah I do, Buck. You… always liked watching me draw." His voice was tentative and hopeful, something the asset made immediate mental note of. He heard Steve putting away things behind him, and he took it as a sign that he was finished.

"… do you still keep a sketchbook?" the assassin wasn't sure why he was so interested, but the memory had been rather clear and he took it as an opportunity to possibly learn if it was real. He tilted his head to glance back over his shoulder, and saw Steve nod slightly. "Can I see it?" he wasn't used to asking questions, to voicing his own thoughts, and he felt a need to try it. Seeing the smile that broke across the other's face was oddly rewarding.

"Of course you can." Steve nearly fumbled over his own words, eyes alight with some emotion he couldn't place, "Here, Bucky." A shirt was held out to him when he turned to face him fully, "Your shirt was ruined, so you can use one of mine." Blue eyes regarded it somewhat warily, but he took it from him regardless. It was little more than a plain grey shirt, but it was appreciated. "I'll go and get you some more juice and my sketchbook. I'll be back in a moment." The empty cup was retrieved from his hand, the assassin not startling at the sudden movement, before the man left the room. Bucky. There was that name again. His name. He dimly recalled it—yes, it was his name.

The shirt was a little difficult to put on with his arm and shoulder injured, but it was managed. The horrific grinding and popping of his joint when he pulled it over his head confirmed that the injury had to be set. He added it into his mental list of injuries. The garment was a little big on his thinned frame, but it was clean and comfortable. It had a somewhat familiar scent to it as well that he couldn't quite recall. Even in as much pain as he was, he felt better than he had in a very long time. Not physically better; he felt absolutely awful physically, but maybe a little better mentally.

He had confirmation that his name was the same as the Sergeant memorialized in the museum, and that this other man was the same Steve that he could dimly remember. There was still an odd disconnect between himself and his past, between himself and the man known as Bucky, but this was a fragile thread that tied him back to it. There were a lot of blank, empty spaces where memories should be in his mind, and he doubted he'd ever get everything back, but this felt… right? Being here with Steve felt right. Yes, he was fairly certain this was the right thing to do.

Tired eyes caught sight of a few folded blankets on the floor near his feet. He might have just regained consciousness but he still felt absolutely exhausted and drained. One of the blankets was picked up, wrapped around him tightly to try and block the cold. It was one of those odd constants that never left; cold seemed to follow him like his own shadow, sinking teeth of ice into his flesh every waking moment. No matter what he tried he never could seem to warm himself up. He curled up tightly under the fabric, feeling a tentative safety for the first time in a long while. All the running and fear and paranoia was starting to melt, bit by bit, as he allowed his eyes to close willingly. By the time Steve returned, he had already dozed off, huddled against the arm of the couch with his back to the door; a small, fragile sign of trust. It was the first deep, peaceful sleep he could remember since he woke from stasis.

When he opened his eyes this time there was no light, the space dark and silent, the reason for just why he was awake unclear. Several moments passed before he realized he was staring into fabric; the back of a couch, he determined. Unease breathed at the back of his neck, but nothing seemed outwardly wrong around him. However, something still felt off. His memories were slow to catch up with his awareness, but he pieced together where he was soon enough. This time his return to consciousness didn't come with any overwhelming paranoia, just a faint acknowledgment of his surroundings; it was a first for the soldier.

He hadn't moved at all since falling asleep, the skill of remaining completely motionless honed into a fine art. It was an ability he'd possessed even before HYDRA's conditioning; he half recalled something about sniping. The downside was that he was now rather sore, and he was sure the injuries he'd sustained earlier in the night had only been compounded by his lack of movement. He'd slept on his right arm, which hadn't done his dislocated joint any favors. He would be sure to alert his new handler to the injury come morning.

There was a momentary lapse before he corrected his thought. Not handler, Steve. The man was an odd sort of mystery in his head. He wasn't a handler, wasn't a white-coated tech, wasn't anything he was familiar with. Steve was Steve. He was a strange exception in a world of ridged rules and protocols. Normally such an obvious outlier would make him nervous, but Steve's presence was comforting and nonthreatening and achingly familiar.

Movement was difficult; now that the adrenaline and shock had worn off he felt the full force of the pain. Every muscle seemed to ache, a deep-seeded burn that spread from his skin to the deepest parts of him. His prosthetic creaked and the servos whined pitifully, the weeks of abuse and ill-care wearing at it. Getting into a sitting position took much more effort than he expected, but now that he had a clear view of the entire room he felt a little safer. The tentative feeling of security let him will himself to take stock of his situation.

The room hadn't changed except for the light having been flipped off, but the darkness was of no hindrance. He could see rather well at night, but whether or not that was inherent or due to HYDRA tampering he wasn't sure. Despite the fact that this place exuded a sense of safety that he'd never experienced before, checking the perimeter and his surroundings was so ingrained in him that he felt a compulsion to do it.

As he moved to get up, he noticed there was a second blanket covering him. Or had been, before he sat up and caused it to tumble off of him in a heap. Absentmindedly he reached out to pick it up, wincing a bit at the metallic whine of his artificial joints and tendons. Several of the plates were jarred out of place, clanking together unnaturally and restricting his range of motion. Dried blood mired the reflective surface, coming not from himself but from nameless HYDRA agents. As soon as he had recovered enough to be effective, he had gone and destroyed every safe house he knew of, killing every HYDRA agent he came across. He was going to destroy HYDRA all on his own if it came to that; they were going to regret ever having created him. He'd see to it.

"Mm, Buck?" the sleepy hum of the Captain broke the silence, the soldier's eyes cutting over in that direction. He hadn't even noticed the other man had placed himself in a nearby chair, now-open eyes regarding him tiredly. Keeping an eye on me? Making sure I don't escape? The second thought made his brow furrow a bit. No, that's not right. He somehow just knew that wasn't why he had opted to rest out here instead of returning to the bedroom.

The asset didn't respond verbally, but gave him a brief nod before he carried through with picking up the blanket. The nervousness was once again settling into the pit of his stomach, the sort of feeling he expected prey felt before a predator sprung from the shadows. It was such an unfamiliar feeling, as he was usually the lurking predator in question. He could hear Steve stretching and moving to get up, so he decided to remain seated; he had a feeling the Captain would fuss if he tried to get up and walk with his wounds.

"Feeling any better?" the other's voice was far too bright for it being so early in the morning. The assassin just watched as he tapped at a phone, glancing to him after the screen lit up. He took a moment to check himself mentally before he responded. His metal fingers hesitantly relinquished their grip on the blanket, instead wrapping gingerly around his shoulder joint, where the Captain had dislocated it in their struggle.

"… arm hurts." He mumbled quietly, lacking the robotic, monotonous quality that had previously dominated his voice. He knew that the Captain had seen the deep bruising and discoloration around the joint, as the bullet wound was plastered in the middle of it, but he was well aware that there was likely little he could do for it. Even he wasn't sure if it was just a dislocation, or if there was a fracture as well. The frown that appeared on the other man's face at his words was enough to make the nervousness he was experiencing leap to the front of his mind.

"We'll get it looked at, don't worry." His voice was always so soothing, "But…" discomfort, possibly even fear crept into the other's tone suddenly, serving to heighten the soldier's apprehension. His gaze was at his phone again, tapping his finger against it nervously. "… we can't stay here, we need to get somewhere safe." The sense of urgency was contagious, it seemed. The hairs on the back of his neck were on-end again, and the assassin was on his feet in a few seconds.

"Buck, are you sure you're alright to be up and.." the glare he directed at the Captain was much more threatening than he meant it to be, but he got his point across as the rest of the man's sentence withered in his throat. He wasn't fragile, he wasn't to be coddled; he was a weapon that was damaged and malfunctioning, not broken and useless. Weakness wasn't tolerated, his handlers had made sure to drive that into his programming.

"Give me a minute to get ready and get you a jacket, then we've gotta move out." Those were words the soldier remembered and associated with. Location compromised, moving to safety. It must be why he woke up; HYDRA must be closing in. It was enough to make his muscles stiffen with readiness, not wanting to be taken by surprise like last time. They wouldn't have that luxury. Not again.

 Emily also had packed some necessary stuff earlier. She was standing in the middle of the room, with a backpack hanging over her shoulder.

“Guys…” she whispered. “We don’t have much time.”

Waiting was not in the Winter Soldier's repertoire, and instead of remaining still he was up and moving. The pistol he had dropped earlier was retrieved, inspected and placed into his pocket. There wasn't a lot of ammunition left in it, but enough to be useful. He'd done more damage with much, much less. Now that he was up he decided to do that perimeter check he'd been planning on. Steve was doing something in his room, so he avoided that room and checked every other one. His pass through the kitchen produced the knife he'd left that first night, still sullied with the Captain's blood, and a worn sketchbook. There was a twinge of guilt in his stomach that passed quickly as he placed the blade back into the sheath at his ankle. The small book, likely the one Steve had been bringing to show him, was tucked into his pocket.

The dull, aching burn in his muscles was pushed out of his awareness; now that there was a clear threat to him all pain was ignored. It was how he had been conditioned, trained and taught; pain was a weakness and only useful for determining damage after a successful mission. He hated to admit that he was nervous, but he was. He had the beginnings of fragile trust in Steve, but this had the makings of a trap. Suddenly relocating after arriving? Departing hours before the sun rose, when no one would ever notice their passing? It was enough to set off warning bells in the soldier's mind.

"Buck," the Captain's hesitant voice broke his thoughts, eyes cutting over to where the other man was peeking in from the door, "Are you ready?" again with questions, again with asking him things. It was still a strange and unusual concept to the asset, used only to demands and orders. He responded only with a curt nod, taking a jacket that the other offered to him. It was somewhat big on him, but worn and soft and comfortable nonetheless. Nothing like the rigid combat gear HYDRA had outfitted him with. In a way he felt vulnerable, missing the reassuring weight and constriction of his body armor.

Steve had a small pack slung over his shoulder, the contents of which the soldier didn't know, and shield strapped to his arm. It was clear, however, that they were likely not coming back, not for a long time at least. There was no sentimental attachment to this place for him, he didn't have any sentimental attachments honestly, but he did know this place and knew it was safe in his mind, so leaving it didn't sit right in his mind. He did know, however, that staying would end in certain HYDRA custody or death.

Ushered out into the hall, the soldier only moved when prompted by his new handler. No, Steve. His senses were on alert, although still dulled and sluggish from the blood loss earlier. The sleep and bandaging had improved his awareness a bit, although even with his serum it would take a few more hours before he would be in a condition he was comfortable with. He just watched as Steve tapped at his phone, door pulled shut behind him. It was only after he read some text message for the fifth time that he suddenly froze.

"Shit." Now that got a reaction out of the soldier. He tensed up and stood perfectly still, the tone of Steve's voice setting off warnings and alarm bells that something was catastrophically wrong. His tone had been nothing but softness and warmth up until now; the swear sparked just the ghost of a sensation in his head, of cold wind and the smell of gunsmoke as he peered over a trench in some long forgotten battlefield.

"We need to move. Now." the words spilled out of the blond man suddenly, a hand grabbing his right arm without warning and tugging him down towards the stairs. Normally such an unexpected action would have warranted a swift punch to the jaw, but the startled tone in the other's voice alerted him that something was very, very wrong. He didn't resist, letting Steve lead him swiftly down the stairs and towards a back door, the other man mumbling the entire way about something about the text having been wrong. Muffled voices—HYDRA, Strike team—filtered through the walls from outside, formless shadows visible through the frosted glass of the front doors.

Subtly was thrown out the window as Steve kicked the back door open and bolted outside, the asset stumbling and fighting to keep up with the jolting motion. The man had yet to let go of his arm, guiding him through narrow alleyways and side streets in a path that seemed predetermined. He didn't know the plan, which was a source of anxiety in and of itself, but Steve clearly had something in mind, so for the first time he—trust was too strong a word—relied on the other's decisions to get them out of harm's way.

HYDRA agents were all over, dressed in varying uniforms of Strike and police and others he did not recognize. They shouted as they tried to corner them, seemingly appearing from nowhere from alleyways and cars and from behind objects. Steve did not engage them, instead pulling him along as he ducked and weaved dizzyingly between buildings and sleepy streets. He had a set destination in mind, the asset could tell, and even though the sight of HYDRA angered him into considering pulling away to fight, he knew it was too risky to separate himself from the Captain.

Unfortunately, HYDRA did that for him. There was a sudden, jarring shout from one of the alleys they were about to blow past, and before either could react the darkened space filled with blinding light and a concussive sound. Flashbang. Steve yelled something but the asset didn't hear, the grip on his arm lost as the other covered his ears. Even before the white left his vision, formless shapes surrounded them as agents appeared to spring from the very walls to box them in. Wordlessly, the assassin and the Avenger stood back to back, fitting into formation as easily as if it was something they did every day. The pistol was pulled from his pocket, knowing that even with little ammo it would be more effective at the moment than a knife. There was a brief flash of familiarity in his mind, but the situation around him drowned it out almost instantly.

"Drop your weapon and surrender the asset, Captain Rogers!" a husky voice barked out, a dozen barrels of a dozen guns aimed at them. He could feel Steve tense against his back, but so vastly outnumbered and outgunned any outburst now would likely end in one or both of them dead.

"… Steve." He wasn't sure just why he spoke, or why his voice was softened and hinted with an accent he only vaguely recalled, but he did. It was a sort of rash, sudden need to ground himself in the present, to remind himself that the man behind him was indeed the Steve he could so faintly remember. His statement, however, had an unintended consequence.

"The asset's compromised," that growling voice spoke again, "he'll need to be wiped and reconditioned if we're going to salvage this." That statement triggered an intense, shattering terror in the assassin the likes of which he could not recall. Broken memories of deafening electricity crackling madly, of being tied down and unresisting and passive, suddenly swam in his mind and broke through his calculating combat mindset. Without thought he pressed himself further against Steve's back, as if somehow he could hide from his own horrifying memories in the other's presence.

"Buck, it's alright," voice hushed and gentle, the Captain spoke only loud enough for him to hear, "You've got to work with me, we're going to work together to get out of this, just follow my lead." It wasn't worded as an order or command, and as such disoriented the soldier for a moment, but that fragile ideal of trust settled in to fill in the gaps and his only response was a slight nod that went unseen. They could do this. “Emily. I’m gonna take their attention, you need to run. If they will take us three, nothing will left.”

She nodded slightly and before the fight, she ran toward the nearest window. She stopped in front of it, taking a look back at her men. Steve was looking at her above his shoulder, he gave her a nod, so she followed his order and jumped out of the window, disappearing in the darkness of the night.

There was no warning for the HYDRA agents, shield thrown and colliding with several and incapacitating them while three expertly placed and near-simultaneous bullets downed three permanently. They moved in sync, still keeping each at their back even after separating and lunging at the ring of agents that surrounded them. The now-useless pistol had been abandoned in favor for a blade, which was used to swiftly and efficiently disable and kill two more agents before they could even fire off a round.

The resonant clang of the shield behind him let him subconsciously track the Captain's movements, even as he threw himself into the tangle of agents in front of him. He used the knowledge that he was wanted alive to his advantage, as he knew they wouldn't dare try to shoot him at such close range as it would likely irreparably damage him and they would lose their prized asset. It couldn't have worked better for him, as he was just as comfortable and deadly dispatching a target at close range as he was sniping.

An agent was slammed against the nearby wall, razored blade deftly sliding between neck vertebras to kill his target instantly. Without a moment's hesitation he was upon another, moving with all the predatory grace of a hunting cat, throat slit and body casually dropped as if it were little more than a discarded jacket. The remaining two agents in his field of view turned and bolted, and had he been on his prior missions of annihilating HYDRA installations around the city he would have pursued them relentlessly, but now he barely acknowledged their escape. Instead, he spun on his heel to where Steve was fighting, wasting no time engaging the remaining agents that swarmed him.

His blood-sullied blade dipped into the throat of a Strike member readying to shoot Steve's back, a gurgled wheeze of horrified shock the only noise that escaped before he was roughly shoved aside. Sticky crimson soaked deep into his jacket and clothes beneath but little regard was given to it; the horrors of his actions seemed as commonplace as any daily act to him after decades of repetition. Another HYDRA infantrymen lunged at Rogers with a stun baton, but the soldier intercepted him, slashing with a precise stroke that opened the man's torso as easily as a zipper. He fell noiselessly into a jumbled heap of blood and viscera at the Captain's feet, a non-threat.

Soon only a few hostiles remained, mostly stepping far back and firing as many rounds as they could at Captain Rogers. The asset refused to leave the man's side again, tucked up close near him in an effort to deter any more firing, and to his dim surprise it seemed to work. The agents backed away even farther, guns raised but triggers untouched, eyes locked on them. He took the brief lull in fire to glance at Steve for a moment, to assess his condition. He was on his feet, but blood had soaked his right leg from a bullet wound to the calf. A slash from a knife tore through his jacket and into his side, while red dribbled from his saturated sleeve from another entry wound. He was standing, for the moment, but the soldier knew that even with the serum the blood loss would catch him quickly.

Steve asked something, something about how he was holding up or the like, but the assassin didn't catch it. Instead his attention was elsewhere when his eyes caught a brief flash of light from the roof of a building two streets over. His heart fell into his stomach and his shout of warning was lost to the rifle crack when the realization hit. Of course, the bullet hit first, just not in the place HYDRA had wanted it.

The soldier had reacted instinctively, kicking the back of Steve's injured leg hard enough that he buckled. His sudden movement meant the bullet, aimed for a kill shot on the Avenger's heart, instead struck and slid off the slant of his shield and hit his collarbone. A second bullet, fired milliseconds after the first from a likely second sniper, caught him across his already-slashed ribs, blossoming open as if it were a grotesque flower. The strangled cry of shock and pain that left the man as he crumpled to the ground snapped something buried deep beneath HYDRA programming, and within a half-second he had grabbed Steve by his arm and pulled him into a small alcove between two buildings. He heard two more bullets strike the asphalt where they had been moments before, and knew that HYDRA was likely not going to take Steve alive.

All thoughts of the remaining HYDRA agents were abandoned at the sound of Steve's raspy breathing, the assassin leaning him against the building wall as to hopefully ease it some as he leaned down to his level. Even though the shield had absorbed most of the energy of the round, the wound was devastating. The bullet had shattered his collarbone, flesh torn and ripped and blood dripping freely. A dribble of the crimson stained the Captain's chin, breath labored and choking and heaved in and out. His lung's been punctured, probably collapsing. The second bullet had no doubt shattered his ribs, and the awful torn wound was jagged and blown apart by the unimpeded bullet's passing. It was a grim prognosis.

The sounds of the agents trying to regroup from the attack were hardly registered, hands pressed to the man's injury in a desperate attempt to stem the flow of blood. A pained cough escaped him, reddened mouth slackened open as he tried again and again to fill his lungs full to no avail. "B… B-Buck…" he slurred wetly through the blood, half-lidded eyes beginning to glaze over as unconsciousness loomed, "… got t-to… get… a-away…" shock was setting in, body trembling under the assassin's hands, but he mustered the energy to nudge him with the shield in a halfhearted attempt to push him into running. He wanted him to leave him behind, to save himself from falling back into HYDRA's control. The very thought of it twisted the soldier's stomach in a knot and caused his breath to catch in his throat.

"S-Steve," his normally-controlled voice was shaky and small, fear filling every inch of him as trembling, blood-stained metallic fingers brushed golden hair away and cupped the Captain's cheek to hold his gaze on him, "You've gotta hold on," his eyes began to sting as an unfamiliar heat and blurriness began to build, "I-I'm not leaving you behind." Something had woken up deep in his mind, faint ghosts of memories of battles long past. Of fights in alleys where both refused to run away, never leaving the other's side. It was such a strong emotion that consumed him that he couldn't ever hope to fight it, and strangely enough, he possessed no will to resist it.

Footsteps and barked orders behind him drew him from his withdrawn, focused state. It was like a switch flicking in his head, the sharp focus of combat and programming setting in, and within the space of a breath he had taken the shield from Steve's faltering grasp and spun around, keeping himself between the agents and his injured partner. His vision was blurred and his eyes stung fiercely, an unfamiliar wetness trailing down a cheek, but he didn't move from his defensive stance, rooted to the spot with shield held solid in his metal prosthetic. The plates whirled and slid together with a groan of protest, ready to lash out with the vibranium disk at the slightest movement.

"Get away!" he snarled in a voice so loud it startled the men, "Get away from him!" he swung the shield at an agent that dared to approach, knocking him clean off his feet and sending him tumbling. The sharp, ripping pain as his own shoulder wound tore caused him to wince, but it was immediately stuffed down as he had much more important things to focus on. Seeing their own knocked away so easily, even while he was in such a state, caused the others to take heed and back away a few feet. Even though his joint protested, he retrieved and hid a blade in the palm of his injured arm, keeping it disguised behind the shield. If they got close again they would be in for a nasty surprise.

"This is… unexpected." The same agent who spoke earlier piped up, rifle trained on the pair with deadly intent, "Looks like the programming has decayed more than anticipated. General Lukin isn't going to be pleased." That name was familiar, and struck a fear like a dagger of ice into the soldier's heart. He pressed himself back, shield held higher in a desperate attempt to keep the agents at bay. Steve moved behind him, whimpering in pain, and a moment later the former Soviet felt his hand press reassuringly to his back in a wordless gesture of trust. It was enough to steel his nerves, to dispel his own fear just enough to focus on the agents who had chanced to venture further.

With an almost animalistic roar, he leapt at the nearest agent, jamming the sharp edge of the shield into his ribcage, crushing it like a flimsy can. He dropped into a tangle of limbs, and he used the moment of confusion to swing at another, feeling the agent's skull cave under the impact. The shield was brought down on the neck of another agent, while the knife in his right hand pierced the torso of one rushing at him. As he swiveled to lunge at the seeming-commander he froze mid-strike, eyes wide with terror, when he saw that another agent had a gun trained to the downed Captain's head.

"No!" the word clawed its way out of him, shield and blade falling from his hand in a show of submission, eyes wide with feral panic. "D-don't do it." He'd never demanded anything from anyone, not in all his active years, but he was now. He was scared, desperate and out of options, pleading like one of his victims to spare the other man's life. The commander's gravelly voice broke into a laugh behind him, but before he could round on him he felt a pinprick on the back of his neck, followed immediately by a burst of warmth that spider-webbed through his body. His knees buckled and vision swam, awareness growing fuzzy as he collapsed to the ground. He gasped out Steve's name, tried to push himself back up, but he couldn't even prevent his eyes from sliding shut a heartbeat later. His hearing muffled, but the last thing he was aware of was that growl of a voice ordering the surviving agents to take the both of them before everything drained away into nothingness.

My little treasure || Part III

Teaser || Part I || Part II

WORD COUNT: 2930

WARNINGS: none

AUTHOR: Cass

It was only two days after whole Andrea’s accident. She stayed in S.H.I.E.L.D.

Andrea was looking at white wall still lying in her bed. Suddenly she heard a voice .

“Hey… How do you feel?” It was grant. He solely sat on Andrea’s bed when she sat up.

“Good… but I still feel bad… because of this what happened two days ago.” She said sadly.

Grant smiled softly and stroked her hair. “It’s okay, nothing too bad happened. Everything is fine now.”

Andrea sighed heavily and quickly broked down. She started cry. “No! It’s not! I’m a monster! Machine… next Hydra’s experiment!”

Grant looked at her. “Hey hey hey… Shhh…” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a hug. “It’s okay now. Andrea… please calm down.” Grant said and pulled her onto his laps.

“But… l.. look… What I did… I hurt my dad… I wanted hurt you… Why… Why you tried to stop me… I could kill you..”

Grant stroked her cheek and sighed. “Because you are important to me. I wasn’t scared… I will always try to protect you… I could die for you.” He told her.

Andrea looked at him in shock. “G-Grant… what are you saying..”

“All I’m saying is…” He said slowly and kissed her. Andrea blinked but didn’t pull away, she kissed him back.

“I just love you.” He finished after braking the kiss “I will never let anything bad happen to you.” He said and Andrea only nodded. Grant laughed softly and kissed her again.

After few minutes they both jumped surprised when they heard angry voice. “Am I interrupting in something?!” It was Steve and this time he was really pissed.

Grant looked at Steve. Andrea also looked at him, he was really scared. “Dad…. I  just… I mean we…” Grant looked at Andrea.

“I can see what you two are doing! I told you, she is Hydra’s experiment. She showed what she is capable to. She is a dangerous creature!” Steve growled in a low voice of his.

Grant let Andre sit on bed and he got up. “No! She is not! I love her! And I don’t care anymore what you think about her. Because I LOVE HER!”

“And you are my son, MY son! And as long as I’m alive you will do what I say.” Steve grabbed Grant’s arm and pulled him out of the room. “I don’t care what you think about her. She is walking monster!” Steve growled at Grant.

He suddenly saw Bucky. “And you! Keep this thing away from my son!” Steve yelled at Bucky and left hospital with Grant.

Bucky blinked confused and watched as blond man left the building. “Um… it’s nice… to see you two too..” He said slowly and went to Andrea’s room.

Girl was hiding under her blanket, Bucky looked at this really worried. He sat on bed and rubbed her back.

“Go away Grant… your dad hate me…” She whimpered.

Bucky smiled “I’m not sure if my name is Grant.”

Andrea sat up and looked at Bucky from under blanket, “DAD!” She whimpered happily and hugged to him tight.

“Calm down, or you will break more of my ribs.” He giggled and hugged her back tight, “I missed you, little one.”

“How do you feel… w-what I did to you..” Andrea asked and looked at him.

Bucky only smiled at her “For me more important is how you feel but… I only have few ribs broken. I don’t know how many… I didn’t listen. I was more worried about my daughter.”

Andrea sighed and looked at him with tears in her eyes. “I… I didn’t mean to dad… I don’t know… I was so angry, scared. This rage, it ripped me from the inside. I wasn’t controlling myself. I’m sorry.”

Bucky looked at her and put his hand on her cheek. “Sweetheart… please, shhh. It’s okay, I understand, I good know this feeling.” He told her.

Andrea nodded and hugged to him tight. Bucky spend few hours with her before he had to go back.

Martha knocked to Andreas door. “Knock knock. How’s my favorite patient?” She asked and slowly sat on Andrea's bed .“I hope you feel better, Andrea. Just I wanna you to know that Bucky will be able to take you home soon, I hope you are happy.” She smiled.

Girl only smiled sadly and nodded “Yes… I wanna go home, to dad.” She said quietly.

“Andrea… something’s wrong? I can see that you are quiet… and I’m sure that this time it’s not because the thing that happened two days ago.” Martha sighed and got up from bed. She walked to girl. “Come on tell me..”

Andrea looked at her. Andrea felt bad because of everything. Because of thing that happened, because of Bucky and Steve and because of Grant. She told everything to Martha.

Martha giggled. “Finally my son had shown some balls…” She muttered to herself and sighed. “You know what… I think you shouldn’t think about this. Everything will be fine. Things like this won’t happen again, Bucky is quickly returning to health and Steve… He is himself, but don’t worry. I won’t let him separate you with Grant. Now… It’s getting late, you should try to sleep a bit, okay?”

Andrea smiled and nodded, now she felt much better “Thank you..” She said.

Martha nodded. “No problem Kid… I will be back at morning to check upon you. Good night and see you tomorrow.”  

Andrea spent few days in hospital, after this time Bucky took her back home.

Girl happily flopped on her own bed in her own home, Andrea sat slowly on bed and looked at Bucky. “Dad… I… can we talk about me? I mean… about what I am?” She looked at Bucky with her big puppy’s eyes.

Bucky smiled sadly and nodded, he sat next to her. “Just… remember, no matter what I always love you.” Andrea nodded “Sure… I love you too, dad.” Bucky smiled sadly. “So… it was fourteen years ago..” He began.

 ~~~~~~ fourteen years ago~~~~~~

 “Everyone's down?” Steve sighed heavily picking up his shield from floor.

“Well, no one shoots to us anymore, so I think yes, Cap.” Bucky looked around and smiled at his friend.

Steve nodded and put shield on his back. “So… Agents will go there and we will go to main lab.”  Steve ordered and few agents that were with them left them alone on the corridor “You okay, Buck?”

“I just…” He looked around again, Bucky felt really uncomfortable. “Just… bad memories.. but let’s go. We should check what those sick bustards were doing here.” Man muttered and started walking toward main lab.

Steve followed his friend.

Main lab was a huge room, filled with all kinds of weird things. Many books, boxes with documents. Photos of some creepy stuff.

Bucky looked at documents. “That makes sense…” Bucky muttered.

“What is it, Buck? What do you mean?” Steve asked.

“Look at those photos, Steve… they were experimenting on people, kids… even unborn one…” Bucky put few pages of documents on table.

Steve looked at them. “Yes… Look… This woman… She got missing few weeks ago.” He picked up documents and started looking trough them. “13 years old girl… pregnant woman… Man from store… Mother and her newborn son… Everyone that ever reported missing from city below.  Just reading their treatment makes me sick…” Steve shook his head and shivered.

“I never really met with such a cruelty from Hydra… I mean I knew they can be cruel…” Bucky muttered, walking around in room, checking under tables and other place where they could find something.

“I think it’s more like new… branch of Hydra. All those adults that think they can make Hydra great again… Like we can see they left really quickly… or those few that we met were last one in here. I have no idea.” Steve shrugged “I will have to move all those stuff to S.H.I.E.L.D, and I will have to send letters to families… You know… When we were at war. I thought it is hard, but it's harder than I ever thought.” Steve said and looked at Bucky.

But Bucky wasn’t really listening to his friend, he found small room. It had working light and it was warm. There was small bed inside, some toys, small clothes were laying on floor and on a small chair. “What the hell…” Bucky muttered and walked inside. “Bucky…” Steve blinked and followed his friend slowly.

Bucky looked around, room was really small, but only now Bucky could see pink walls covered in childish drawing, whole place looked better than whole place. Bucky also saw table with long  tablecloth. He could hear some quiet sounds from there. He slowly walked to table, man got onto his knees and slowly moved tablecloth up.

There was sitting a small girl. With short dark brown hair, she had big green eyes, small pink lips and she was really skinny. Girl looked at Bucky scared and moved herself away from man.

“Hey hey… shhh… look, I’m not one of those man. They were coming to you? They were bad? You are scared of  those man?” Bucky asked quietly.

Girl whimpered and nodded three times.

Bucky smiled at her. “Hey, we are here to help you, little one. We will take you home, to your mommy and daddy. Come on now… look I have this special hand… It will protect you.” He said and pulled out his metal arm toward girl.

She looked at him but after a minute she moved closer to him.

“That’s it. You are a good and smart girl.” Bucky said softly and wrapped arm around girl. Bucky hugged girl and got up from floor. “You are safe now, no one gonna hurt you.”

Steve looked at him. “What the hell are you doing with this child?!” Steve frowned.

“Calm down Steve… She is just a child, she’s not gonna hurt us.” Bucky smiled.

“Look at her! We know nothing about her. She is Hydra’s experiment. We don’t know what sit in her.” He growled and took his shield in his hand “We can’t let her live.”

Bucky frowned. “Are you kidding me? She is just a child.” Bucky said hugging again scared girl to him. “I don’t let you kill her, she is so small.”

“She is Hydra experiment. You think why they keep her alive?” Steve said.

“Then why you never killed me, Steve? I was an experiment too. Good man changed into killing machine by HYDRA.” Bucky said and looked at girl. “Let me take care of her… I promise… I will do everything.”

Steve frowned. “Fine…” He put shield on his back. “But if anything ever happen because of this thing… it will be only your responsibility.”

Bucky nodded and looked at girl. “You see… I told you.” He smiled when girl looked at him and smiled back. Her smile was still caused by her fear but Bucky could feel that she was really happy because she was safe now.

Whole paper work in S.H.I.E.L.D took a lot of time. Bucky saw girl's documents but he didn’t like what Steve wrote there. He agreed at those words only because Steve promised she won’t ever see those documents.

Girl was sitting at big metal table in lab. Bucky stayed close, while Martha was examining her.

“She looks healthy, I mean. She isn’t sick… but there is one thing.. that made me worry.” She said and looked at Bucky.

“What is it?” He blinked, he started feel something weird inside. Since they found her, he got really attached to her. It was weird but nice feeling for him. It was something new, something that made him feel warm inside. He wanted this girl to be safe whole time. Was it because they shared similar life. Hydra's experiment, good person destroyed by sick people, loners found by good person. He had no idea… but he really liked this feeling.

“I mad X-rey. She has a metal hand…” Martha said.

Bucky looked at her and at girl. “Um… Sorry Martha.. but I don’t see it.” He said really confused.

“I also thought it but look..” She walked to girl. “Will you let me show Uncle Bucky the magic trick with your skin?” Martha asked, looking at girl.

Girl smiled at woman and at Bucky, she nodded and giggled quietly.

Bucky felt even more warm inside when he heard this quiet sound, he felt… good, he felt happy.

Martha nodded and slowly pulled off skin from girl’s hand “It’s some kind of… bionic skin, I think I will send it to Stark. He will know what to do with it.”

Bucky looked at hand “They… hide it… but why?” He walked to girl and took her small had into his hands.

Martha shrugged. “Maybe she had to be some secret weapon. We will never find out I think. But as far as I see she is fine. We didn’t find anything bad in her. She is just too skinny, but it will quickly go back to normal. You talked with Steve?”

Bucky nodded and sat on table, girl climbed on his laps by herself and put her hand on his arms. Then smiled at him. Bucky smiled softly “Yes I talked with him,  I want adopt her. Take her with me to home.” He said.

Martha blinked. “Are you sure? I mean we don’t know if she is 100% okay.”

Bucky nodded. “I was in similar situation too… Steve helped me. It’s time for me to help someone, we both are from Hydra's hands… Who else will be able to help her better than me.”

Martha smiled softly. “If you say so Bucky.” She nodded. “She is three years old but she doesn’t have a name.” She said and looked at Bucky.

“I thought about one… Andrea, I like this name. I think it will be perfect for her.” Man said and girl smiled at him.

Martha smiled. “Okay, fine. Better go home now. She needs rest, food, water and love.”

First few months with Andrea were hard. It took Bucky long time to figure out what girl like to eat and what she doesn’t like. What she likes to wear and what not.

Bucky was giving Andrea almost whole his time. When she was asleep he was preparing room for her. She was getting sick many times what meant that Bucky spent many nights with girl in his bed, making sure she is okay. It was hard, Bucky was making so many stuff at once that he slept when he could, while waiting at microwave to stop, when Andrea was with Martha at her research, during girl’s nap time.

But it all was worth it. After few months Andrea started talk, she started eat properly, she started smile more often, many night were peaceful for Bucky and for Andrea. Bucky lived moments that he thought will never come to him. Visits at playground, trips to cinema to see new move for children, walks to zoo. Bucky couldn’t be more happy than He was with his adopted daughter.

He was often leaving Andrea with Steve’s son and their babysitter. Steve wasn’t really happy because of this fact, but Martha was really good in calming down her stubborn husband.

When Andrea met Grant she was even more happy. Bucky had to learn her good manners, how to act around other people and explain girl that she isn’t weird but special.

Andrea looked at him. “Dad… m… maybe you aren’t my real dad, but I never knew my real parents… I love you… and… thank you for everything. All those sleepless night that you spend with me, all this time that you gave me trough my whole life.”

Bucky smiled and hugged her. “It was all worth it… Because now I have wonderful young lady… and she is my lovely daughter.”

“Dad… Can you do something for me?”

“What is it, sweetheart?” Bucky sighed softly.

“Can… can you do something so Grant will come here. Steve really made sure he won’t visit me… and… I miss him.” She said sadly.

Bucky smiled and ruffled her hair. “I will try my best. Now try to relax you are finally home.

Next Andrea got up really late. When she walked to kitchen she saw Bucky, Martha and Grant.

Grant saw her and quickly walked to her. “I missed you!” He said and hugged her really tight.

Andrea giggled and nuzzled to him. “I missed you too… soo much!” She whimpered happily. Grant smiled and kissed her, after a long kiss he looked at her. “I missed you harder…” He muttered happily.

Andrea giggled happily and suddenly realized that Martha and Bucky were watching them whole time. Grant saw how her face became red and looked at Bucky and his mother.

Martha was watching them, smiling gently. Bucky was looking at them with big smiled on his face. “I am puking rainbows!” He yelled and laughed “So cute. Go upstairs… She missed you. Just you two have to be quiet there.”

“Daad!!” Andrea whimpered and her face became even more red. Bucky only giggled and shook his head. “Go go, I will talk with Martha and think what to do with our cap.”

Andrea nodded and took Grant up stairs.

Martha smirked. “They look cute together… I don’t understand why Steve hate her so much.”

Bucky nodded “I don’t understand since We found her…” He said softly.

Imagine: Taking care of Matt’s hands.

Everything was fine before that weird earthquake that happened so suddenly.

It was scary and confusing, you had no idea what just happened, but you could see trough huge window of your and Matt’s flat that it was bad, really, really bad.

But the most weird thing happened to Matt, you watched him confused before he just ran out of flat, without saying anything.

You spend hour watching the news in the tv, than you decided to go to bed, even if you were really freaking out by this earthquake, but you were too tired to stay up.

You slowly walked to bedroom and laid in your and Matt’s bed, you couldn’t sleep. You were thinking what he was doing, where was he, if he was okay.

Finally you fell asleep but you had been quickly woken up by the sound of the door.

‘Matt’, You thought and quickly sat up on bed to look into living room.

There he was, he looked so angry, all you could hear was his panting. He tried to look trough first aid kit but he was too angry, and he failed.

You watched, how Matt, full of anger pushed box off of the table. You were surprised that he didn’t call you or didn’t try to find you. You quickly got up from bed and walked to him.

“Matt… Matt what are you doing? What’s wrong with you?” You asked and started picking up stuff from the floor.

“[Y/N]… I am sorry. I just had to go… just, I heard so many voices, screams, begging for help.” He said and sat on couch, Matt slowly hide face into his hands. Then you could see why he was looking trough aid kit, his knuckles were completely bruised  even wounded in some places.

“You fought without anything on your hands..” you said quietly and slowly raised up from the floor with aid kit in your hands, Matt only nodded. You sat next to him and took his hand into yours.

“Let me take care of this, Matty.” You said quietly and he let you do with his hand whatever your have wanted.

You started slowly clean his fist off of blood, you were really gently with his hands. You washed his hands precisely and started carefully wrapping them in bandages.

“Next time… tell me where are you going, and maybe… put on the suit again.” You said quietly.

Matt looked into your direction and nodded.

“I… I will… I need to do something. I’m sorry, angel.” He said and took your face into his hands.

You nodded and gently nuzzled to his hands.

“I know… My devil.” You smiled sadly.

Matt kissed you gently.

“I need to go now…” He muttered and left. “Love you, Angel!” He said before closing door.

“I love you too, devil.” You giggled sadly and shook your head.

Author: Cass Gif: X X