Bucky Barnes X Steve Rogers - Tumblr Posts

getting used to the quiet of our apartment

Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers (one shot)

Summary : Where Bucky has a violent nightmare and doesn't speak for days after that. Steve tries to handle this the best he can.

Content : Post CATWS, Bucky has nightmares, bit of fluff and bit of hurt/comfort

Word count : 1,100 words

Notes : hi there !! I've been posting on ao3 but I decided to give Tumblr a shot so here I am :DD this is one of the first fanfics that I've written so it's not perfect but I'm working on it haha. enjoy!

——

It has been a few days since the last incident.

Bucky woke up screaming in the middle of the night because of a nightmare. It took about an hour for Steve to bring him back. Bucky’s body was paralyzed, he was sitting on the bed, his gaze staring at an imaginary point in front of him. He was muttering some word in Russian, too fast for Steve to understand even if he has been secretly learning Russian to understand those nightmares better.

Around an hour after, Steve managed to ground Bucky by talking to him, and with a lot, lot of patience. He couldn’t touch Bucky, not when he didn’t know where his mind was, not when he could snap his neck with his metal arm in seconds.

-

This episode was a big one, and these were rare, but still terrifying for both men. Usually the days after that, Bucky would go non-verbal. He could feel his brain buzzing and he needed some time to himself. Not completely alone, it was not safe to leave him completely by himself, but he needed time to get his brain online.

When Steve woke up, three days after the nightmare, he stretched in the bed and realized that Bucky’s part of the bed was empty. "Probably another night without sleeping", he thought. He knew that Bucky needed sleep to recover but he also knew how traumatizing sleep could be when your brain was messing with you.

Steve stood up and put some sweatpants and a t-shirt on. He walked through the small corridor and the smell of coffee lead him towards the kitchen. Once there, he saw Bucky, sitting at their small table in the kitchen, a mug of coffee in front of him. He had his legs folded to his chest, chin on his knees and his gaze was unfocused, staring through the window. Steve made sure to walk a bit louder to announce his presence in the room. Bucky seemed to have heard him, his eyes focusing again and his head slowly turning towards Steve. He gave Steve a small nod, and he understood that today would be another silent day. Steve gave him a small nod back, walked to the counter to make himself a cup of coffee and settled on the couch of their living room, to give Bucky some space.

As the morning went on, Steve went for a run, a small one as he was anxious to leave Bucky by himself for too long, but he would go insane if he spent whole days in their tiny silent apartment.

He bought some groceries on the way back and came back to their home. When he closed the door behind him, he saw the figure of Bucky, he didn’t seem to have moved an inch. He sighed, took off his running shoes and put the groceries in the kitchen.

He grabbed some clean clothes from the bedroom and headed straight to the bathroom to take a shower. He didn’t lock the bathroom door, just in case Bucky needed something. He put the clothes on next to the sink and raised his head to look at himself in the mirror. He looked exhausted. He still got more sleep than Bucky but he really spent most of his nights just turning in the bed. He knew that he had to be patient, that Bucky would come back to himself in a few days. Sam told him, "Recovery takes time, don’t expect him to be the Bucky you knew before so soon", and Steve knew that. It has only been a few months since Bucky decided to come back to Steve’s life, and he was glad. But he didn’t thought of everything that would come with it, he was just happy to have his best guy back.

After his shower, he dressed up and went in the corridor to go to the bedroom. He saw on the corner of his eye that was Bucky was not in the kitchen anymore but on the couch. He had put a blanket over his shoulder and was looking through the window, the sun going through it probably warming him. Steve smiled to himself and went to open the bedroom door when he heard something. If it wasn’t for his super-soldier hearing, he wouldn’t have heard it. Just a faint whisper calling his name.

Steve froze with his hand on the door handle and turned in the direction of Bucky. The man was now looking at him in his eyes, a faint expression of pain and tiredness in his eyes. Steve walked slowly towards him, making sure to not startle him.

"H-hey Buck, you okay?" He asked as clearly as he could, keeping his voice low.

Bucky nodded to the place next to him on the couch. Steve took the clue and sat carefully next to Bucky, keeping a safe distance between them. They haven’t been too close physically since before the nightmare. Steve had always missed the way they were close when they were younger, always an arm around the other’s shoulder, or sitting next to each other in front of the radiator to get warm.

Bucky opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something. Steve gave him time and made sure to not stare at him to not pressure Bucky, but he gently shook his head and never said anything. Minutes and minutes went by and they just sat next to each other on the couch, the sun making it’s way further into the silent room as the afternoon went by.

At some point, Steve must have dozed off as the sun was warming his skin. He felt some weight on his shoulder. He suddenly opened his eyes, careful not to move a lot and looked at his side. Bucky’s head was against his side, his eyes seemed to be closed. Steve smiled to himself. Bucky finally gave in and fell asleep. Maybe he didn’t want it, maybe it was just his body that was too tired and decided to shut down. But at least he could get some rest, and Steve was glad about that.

Steve moved a bit closer to Bucky so his body was not in an uncomfortable angle and rearranged the blanket on his shoulder. "‘Night Buck," he said very very quietly. Bucky leaned more on Steve’s body and he heard his breath steady, knowing that he was now fully asleep.

Steve knew that everything would not get better for Bucky as soon as he wants him to be, but in the end, he could get used to their quiet apartment.

It’s proven yet again that you must have America’s ass and Bucky Barnes fall in love with you in order to hold the shield. You cannot have one without the other two. I don’t make the rules

The chronicles of the winter || Part II

Summary: continuation of imagine

Word Count: 874

Warnings: none

The routine is always the same: ice, fire, words, compliance. They pull the Soldier from the cryo chamber with ice still in his veins and drag him down throughout dark corridors and through bulk head doors to the chair. Coming out of cryo, he never remembers much, but he remembers enough to fear the chair. There aren’t any good times.

He thought heaven can’t help him now. Nothing lasts forever, but this is gonna take him down somehow. These memories follow him around, still. Some snippets of situations he could barely remember caused kind of an anxiety. He knew however, that he has to be impassive, no matter what will happen. Steve Rogers. That single name re-echoed in his head. It was kinda bothering him, because he had an irresistible feeling, that he knew that person. Somehow. Sometime.. Somewhere…

Soldier, the soldier, get the soldier, soldier we have a mission for you, soldier, soldier… Mission report. What mission? Which mission? Why are they staring at me? Mission report. Captain America.

Ice. Fire. Words. Compliance. More fire. More words. More ice. Every time they pull him from the ice, things have changed. Hairstyles. Cars. Fashion. Language changes. A phrase that would have passed unnoticed becomes old-fashioned while he sleeps. Who his handlers serve changes as well: from the Soviet Union to Russia to Hydra. There are some constants, though. He has a habit. He sketches between missions, when he’s awaiting at another assignment. But as soon as sketch is done, he destroys it. Once he couldn’t force his himself to tear up that sketch, and his handler found it stuck in a pocket that usually holds ammunition. They broke his fingers before they put him in the ice that time, and again when they pull him out. The Soldier’s fingers ache after that, a steady reminder not to get caught again.

The other thing that doesn’t change is death. Whether his handlers are Soviet, Russian or Hydra, their orders always involve death. They burn out his memory, but death always follows him. All those people he killed. Polish colonel in Warsaw, Danish special agent, Bosnian high rank commander of Tactical Air Force… He remembers all of them. ALWAYS.

Where are those happy days? They seem so hard to find. I really tried to make it out, I wish I understood. How can I even try to go on?

And now he was assigned once again. His mission seemed to not be so easy this time, but there was no place for excuses. Captain America. Steve Rogers. And Soldier has to eliminate the target.

His handler took him to the little room. It was “his place”. There was a little window beneath a ceiling, brick walls were dilapidated. A narrow metal bed with a smouldering mattress on it was standing with bedhead to the door. “Rest. You’re going to Washington tomorrow morning” handler said in harsh voice, without any redundant emotions. He only nodded.

As soon as doors were closed, Bucky slowly sat on the mattress, slipping his metal fingers into his long hair.  “I need to shave”, brunette thought to himself. It was rather a ridiculous afterthought, he thought second later. He always wanted to ran from demons of his past, so he tried to think about some silly things. Sometimes it helped. Sometimes not…

He spent whole night by sitting on the mattress, with knees tucked up to his chin.

The sun has already long set when they landed at a private airfield. The two men with them made bribes and threats to avoid any questions. The Soldier geared up in his tactical suit, the handler insisted that this job requires the face mask. Bucky made sure he had all his weapons —guns, knives. He put the mask in place, and then got into the back of the plain black van that awaited them on the tarmac. In the van, time seemed to come to a standstill.

When the van stopped and the handler threw the door open on a city street he thought he should recognize, he could noticed the beginnings of light showing in the sky. “You have ten minutes. They’ll be here in a moment” his handler said.

They were looking for him since several minutes. “They said he’s somewhere around here” Natasha growled, once again taking a look at the navigation and a little red dot on a screen. Sam let out a slight gasp. “Maybe S.H.I.E.L.D has wrong informations? Who has reported it?” man asked, shrugging. “They have confirmed informations, Sam” Captain’s voice was firm as he spoke.

Steve was preparing to this actions since very long time period. The Winter Soldier, the Ghost, was in the city and it might be the only occasion to find him and take him to the base. He was responsible for a lot of assassinations in last few decades. S.H.I.E.L.D really wanted to catch that man. He was the most dangerous person and he needed to be captured. Steve’s phone rang suddenly, so he picked up a call.

He was listening for a while and when he hung off the phone, he threw a gaze to Sam. “Turn right, Sam. One of the agents has seen their van at the city center.”

Author: Beast

The chronicles of the winter || Part III

Part II Summary: continuation of imagine

Word Count: 1273

Warnings: none

Ten minutes to eliminate the Captain America is more than generous. He didn’t make a sound, he was trained not to make a sound. While the van was standing at the little parking lot next to the main street in the city center, he was awaiting, in a shade of a huge skyscraper. Leaning his back against the cold wall of the building, he once again repeated his plan.

Take your aim… HE’S ONLY A TARGET. Cut him down… THAT PREMONITION THAT I KNEW HIM. Your bullet can’t ricochet….

Finally he heard some voices. Target wasn’t alone…

“Are you sure it’s here?” Sam asked hesitantly. “Excuse me? Are you undermining my navigational skills now?” Natasha barked loudly, getting out of their car. Steve, who at that moment was standing next to the vehicle, was looking around. “Stop, immediately, both of you” he said in a harsh voice of his. “It’s not a good moment for arguments, do you understand?” Natasha only rolled her eyes, taking a seat at the hood of the car. “What’s now, Cap?” she asked coldly. “I’m telling you, Steve. It could be anyone else. Maybe they’re wrong.” Captain didn’t answer at her words, because he noticed the black van standing at a one of free parking spaces.

In the same time Soldier decided to start an action. He turn around, stepping out of the shadow and he aimed. But he quickly realized the target was firing his own weapon at him, one bullet has striked him in the chest where his tactic vest absorbed the impact. In the next moment the target launched himself at the Soldier. He was good, Bucky had to admitted… He was stronger and faster than target was, but he had to concentrate to block man’s blows and get through his defences. He lost his own weapon early in the exchange. Bucky was finally able to sweep blonde man’s feet out from under him and he went down. He straddled the target, circling his neck with his hands. It will take only moments now…

But the target wasn’t alone. Bucky felt a strong blow aimed in his neck, so for a short moment he lost his concentration. Not even taking eyes off the target, with his metal arm he grabbed second person, who was still standing behind them. He easily threw the person aside. With a corner of his eye he noticed it was a redhead woman.

He again focused on the target beneath him. But the target wasn’t done. He managed to get one leg up to Bucky’s throat, to force him down and break the grip that’s depriving him of breath. He almost managed to get away. No one has managed to come so close to escaping the Soldier… But he had him pinned again in a moment… The target began to strike out with no technique, just blind panic, arms and legs were flailing against him. As he gasped for breath that won’t come, one of the target’s hand reached out and grabbed his face mask, pulling it off.

The target saw his face, and he freezed. The target knows him…

Second strong blow in the neck threw Soldier out of the target, straight at the concrete. He made a coup forward and quickly got back on his feet. There was one more person besides the woman. It was a tall black man. A strong man…

The target got up from the ground with help of his comrade. Bucky felt target’s eyes on himself.

Soldier slowly turned his head to face blonde man. “BUCKY?!” the target whispered quietly. Soldier for a second was silent, than he narrowed his brows and barked. “Who the hell is Bucky?”

He didn’t know what the target was talking about. But the familiar feeling of knowing that man came back to Soldier’s head.

Suddenly an apparent peace has been interrupted by shots. The two men who came at the place with the Soldier, seeing what was going on at the parking lot, decided to step into an action. They were aiming in the target and his comrades. Suddenly Soldier heard a female scream. Redhead has been shot in her arm and she fell on the ground, squeaking quietly.

“Get to the fucking van!” one of the mercenaries screamed loudly, giving a sign to the Soldier, while the second was distracting the target.

Bucky ran straight to the car and quickly got in. After a moment second of the men jump to the van too and he shut the door as he did. A driver hardly pressed the accelerator and after a while they were on a way back to the private airport.

His handler was standing on the stairs, just out of reach, he held a pistol firmly in both hands. It didn’t matter. The Soldier knew he could kill the man if he wanted to. He had a gun in his boot and three knives, and he wouldn’t even need any of them. He could cross the distance between them and break the man’s neck before he could pull the trigger or say the words. But he didn’t. The handler’s controls was fraying, but they weren’t quite broken yet. “Soldier, report” his handler ordered. The Soldier didn’t even do his handler the courtesy of looking at him, keeping his eyes directed to the floor. He was sitting at the narrow brick wall, in the huge devastated, abandoned air shed. “You failed your mission, Soldier. I need your report.” That made the Soldier turn to his handler. He knew he did. “Who am I?” Bucky asked. “You are the Soldier” the handler replied without hesitation. “And who was I before that?” “You were nobody.” the words were spit out, contemptuous. The Soldier clenched his fists. “You ARE nobody.” “Who was the target?” he asked. “He was an enemy.” “I knew him” the Soldier whispered. “That’s why he had to die. He would have exposed your existence. Your work is so important, we cannot allow that to happen.” the handler was so sure, so confident. The Soldier hated him. “But I knew him” Bukcy insisted. He sensed his handler’s tense. He rose to his feet and faced down his handler. The man was almost as tall as he was, but the Soldier knew he can’t be underestimated. “Солдат. Стоп.” The Soldier balanced on the balls of his feet. He knew the switch to Russian meant the words were coming. “Желание.” One word wasn’t enough for the handler to take his will, but it was enough that for the Soldier to feel the strands of control began to once more wind around him. He launched himself forward with a snarl, sure of his own ability, but his handler was ready for him. He fired two times and the Soldier felt two darts strike, in throat and leg. He fought to keep moving, but can feel the drugs, the poison, which was overcoming his will. He had his hands around the throat of his handler, but his vision was fading and he fell. The last thing he felt before he lost consciousness entirely was a vicious kick to his ribs.

He woke up in the chair and found the routine has changed. This time, they started with fire, fire that burnt the rebellion from his brain. Fire that left him screaming, that made his limbs tremble. When the fire has burned the last fragment of his old self away, only then they did stop. His handler approached him, the hated red book which he has held in his hands. “And now, Soldier,” his handler said coldly, “we will begin again.”

Author: Beast

The chronicles of the winter || Part IV

Part II  || Part III Summary: continuation of imagine

Word Count: 1210

Warnings: none

He had to be wiped again. It took five men to get him into the chair, and three to get the rubber guard in his mouth. He sweared he’ll kill them all. If he will remember. If he will…

If you’re not close to someone, you won’t miss them when they’re gone.

The war against Hydra has started again.

Steve’s heart was broken. Bucky. His Bucky was ALIVE. The man he missed for all those years, the man he thought has died. The lost friend… He was ALIVE. He was in a reach of his hand, but once again Steve has failed. He let them take Bucky away.

Captain was sitting in his room, at the desk with a little lamp on it. He was drawing, as he used to do in a good times. He drew a man. A man with dark hair and a wicked smile and pain behind his eyes. The picture caused a pain in Steve’s chest so intense, he wasted precious lead scribbling over it until the image was obliterated before he torn it up. He let out a short scream, letting tears to run down his cheeks. Bucky. HIS FRIEND.

Steve slipped hands in his blonde hair, he lowered his head, closing the blue eyes of his.

He remembered the way Bucky looked at him when he called his name. Steve saw, how confused man was. He seemed to not remember things. It was Bucky, that was obvious, but he was STRANGE. Of course he had changed, his hair were longer, he had a beard. And finally, he had a pain behind his eyes.. Ineffable pain. It was Bucky, but at the same it wasn’t him. Steve couldn’t recognize his friend in those blue eyes. It was the foe.

A subtle knocking to his door roused him from thoughtfulness. “Come in” he said simply, closing his sketchbook. The door has opened and Sam walked in. “I came to check if you need something” Wilson said slowly, with kind of a hesitation in his voice. Steve gave a sad smile to his friend, shaking head slightly. “All I need is to find HIM, but you know that” Captain rose from a chair and walked to the large window with a view at the Potomac River. He leaned his forearm against a cold glass, letting out a loud sigh. Falcon for a moment was standing still, but then he slowly walked to Captain and put his palm on man’s shoulder. “I know” he affirmed. Steve lifted his chin and turned head to face Sam. “I have a feeling I’ve lost him again” that short statement was the only thing Captain could say at the moment. Falcon looked straight into his friend’s eyes. “We’ll find him, but first of all you have to convince our management to this idea. Natasha is injured, I don’t think they’ll just let you bring Barnes here. It’s too dangerous. He’s a… lunatic.” “SAM” Steve’s face has stiffened in a second. “Hydra has a control over him. It wasn’t him…” Falcon took a step back, now both of his palms were placed at Steve’s shoulders. “It’s hard for you and I respect it. But someone has to stay with clear mind. Let me be a voice of rationality” sad smile appeared on Sam’s face as he spoke. “You can’t just throw everything and go to look for him. Even you won’t manage it. He’s a ghost. And I think they changed his location. We have to prepare a plan. We need to have a support from above, so Fury has to accept your idea before you’ll take any actions” Sam cocked brow at Steve, looking for a confirmation if his friend understands his words. Captain with a deep sigh gave a slight nod. “Very good” Sam patted Steve’s back. “You shall rest” he added quickly, taking hands off blonde man’s shoulders. “Don’t worry. Now, when we know he’s alive, it’ll be easier to track him down” after the last sentence, Falcon quietly left the room, leaving Steve alone with his thoughts.

Bucky had a nightmare again. But this time it was something new. It was as if God had adjusted the colours of the world in the night, like it was as easy as twisting one of those old plastic dials on a TV set. Everything was brighter than it should be, the trees were not just green but radiant virescent hues that burned themselves in Bucky’s sleepy retinas. The houses were as grey as if they’d been repainted by moonlight and now stood vibrant in the golden rays that fell unfettered though the clear sky. The road that should be grey was a sleek river of black with perfect paint lines and the street, lamps were blue. But they had never been blue, not ever. Everything was so right it was wrong - really wrong. The front yards that had been dishevelled with the decrepitude of late winter just yesterday were a riot of colourful blooms. Bucky turned back to look at his house, the curtain twitched. Someone was in there. He hurried to the front door only to find it was locked. Suddenly Bucky heard familiar voice, it came from behind. Brunette slowly turned around. In front of him his last target was standing, without hesitation. Captain America, Steve Rogers. His skin was pale, his big eyes seemed to glow in a blue light of the street lamps. He was wearing a military uniform, its colour also wasn’t normal, a mix of black with radiant blue. “Do you remember all the danger we came from?” man asked. Bucky couldn’t say a word. Some kind of an invisible force overwhelmed his entire body. “I’m longing for the days of no surrender, years ago” Captain continued. “To all the things I’ve lost on you, tell me, Bucky, are they lost on you? Just that you could cut me loose after everything I’ve lost on you?” The Soldier trembled slightly, he wanted to take a step backward, but something was keeping him in a place. “So smoke ‘em if you got 'em 'cos it’s going down” blonde man said, taking a pistol out of his pocket. He aimed and shot in Bucky’s head.

Bucky woke up, trembling all over his body, covered in cold sweat. He sat on his bed, his eyes weren’t accustomed to the darkness, so he blinked few times. The target. He knew that man. He used to know him… He was sure now.

Bucky rose up and went to the little, dingy bathroom located on the corridor. Once he was there, he quickly splashed his face with a cold water, then he lifted chin and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He only noticed a pair of sad, frightened blue eyes. He was pale, he desperately needed a shave. He clenched hands in fists and with metal one he simply hit in the mirror. Glass with a loud bang has crashed into hundreds of small pieces. At the same time Bucky squalled targets name, slowly slumping to his knees.

After long argument with Fury, Steve finally received the assent to look for Bucky and to bring him to the S.H.I.E.L.D base. Now the race against time has started.

Author: Beast

The chronicles of the winter || Part V

Part II  || Part III  || Part IV

continuation

of

imagine

Summary: Steve receives an information about possible Bucky's location. Bucky has to deal with a consequences of failure to perform his task. He's found by Steve and his friends. They take the Winter Soldier to Shield base, but peace doesn't last long. A mysterious envoy of Hydra is on a spoor of Bucky.

Word Count:  3338

Warnings: none

Steve was looking for Bucky since two weeks. Unfortunately, there was no signs of where he can be. Steve almost lost his hope, but some day, on Wednesday, something had changed.

He was at the daily training session with Sam and Clint, when two high rank agents approached them at the training room. “Captain” one of them spoke slowly. Steve lifted his chin up and looked at the man in the suit. “Yes?” he frowned a bit. Wilson and Barton walked to Steve and measured agents with surprised glances. “We have an information about Winter Soldier” the agent in a black suit said simply. Second man started to look for something in his case. After a while he pulled out a red briefcase with a handwritten inscription on it. “JAMES BARNES.” Steve’s heart immediately raced in his chest as he noticed the superscription. Without any words he took the folder in his hands and opened it. He started to read, turning around to the other men and walked to the nearest bench. He took a seat, still reading a dossiers. “Steve?” Sam walked to his friend, looking down at him. Steve was silent still, but after few moments he slowly lifted chin to look at his buddy. “They know where he is” he mumbled with a trembling voice.

It was a hard time for the Soldier. He needed to face never-ending pain, nearly death and angst, which they had offered him. After few days of tortures he was so tired that he even couldn’t defend himself anymore. It was a point where he was begging. About even a few drops of a water… He hated to be dependent on them, but if he wanted to survive, he just hadn’t other choice.

“You failed” his handler was standing next to the one of a generals of Hydra. Bucky was sitting at the metal chair in the interrogation’s room, he was looking at both of the men with a cold glance of his blue eyes. “We checked upon your files, Soldier” general’s voice was frigid. No emotions at his face. Bucky knew that man was rather too young for someone with such high rank. It meant he had no scruples. It was easy to advance in Hydra’s structure, the only things you had to have was perkiness and uncompromising attitude. Bucky knew also he could kill both of them within 30 seconds. But he was too exhausted to even try to fight. “And we have made our decision” a wry smile crept onto his handler’s mouth. Bucky didn’t even blink. The two men exchanged their glances in a silence. “You’ll be executed tomorrow, at the dawn” general said simply. “You know too many things. You didn’t give us any other choice, Soldier.” Bucky didn’t show any signs of a fear, but deep inside he was screaming from a dismay. After a second he cooled himself down and he started to create a plan of an escape. They wanted his death, but he wouldn’t give them a satisfaction. If they wanted to kill him, first they’ll have to break him down.

At the dawn, Bucky has been awoken by four soldiers. The captaincy had sent such many soldiers to drag him at the main square of the headquarters just to make sure he won’t escape. But Bucky was calm. Maybe even too calm, but fortunately men didn’t notice it. His plan has just started.

Once they brought him at the square he noticed, that there was a firing squad awaiting for him. But he was still calm. He let soldiers to take him at the middle of the square where they tied his hands behind his back. He even let them to put an old, stinky bag on his head so he couldn’t see anything.

After several seconds he heard a sound of a reloaded weapons. He didn’t show any fear. He was standing still, with the bag on his head, his back straight and hands tied behind. He was breathing calmly, repeating the plan in his mind. He started to count to 3.

…1… He knew the firing squad was aiming at him. …2…. The voice of the main commander who ordered soldiers to prepare themselves to shot. …3… In the last moment Bucky tautened his muscles, tearing the chains up. Second later he made a backflip, hitting the nearest soldier in chin with his combat boot. As soon as man was down, Bucky took his Makarov pistol and quickly aimed in the second soldier, killing him with a one single shot. The firing squad shot. Three or four bullets ricocheted from Bucky’s metal arm, next two bullets hit brunette in the chest. Bucky yelled loudly in a pain before he fall down on the concrete. Still holding the gun in his hand, with a metal palm he pressed the wounds on his chest, trying to catch a breath. A fear started to overwhelm him, but he couldn’t let it to happen. When four or five soldiers have ran to him, Bucky got up and started a grapple. He managed to pull the long knife from a pocket of the nearest soldier and with it he splitted man’s throat. Then he quickly stabbed another man in chest. Suddenly he felt a huge pain in his back. Bucky clenched his teeth to hold back a scream. He turned around and saw one of the commanders in front of him. Man was holding a knife in his hand, he threw Bucky a vicious gaze. “You fucking piece ofa shit!” man shouted, attacking Bucky. After few moments the two man was laying down on the ground, tussled fiercely. Bucky finally with all his strength stab the knife in commander’s throat. He felt a warm, viscous liquid on his hand. Blood. The blonde man, who was laying beneath Bucky, laughed weakly, looking straight in the blue eyes of the Soldier. “They’ll find… you… everywhere.. They don’t… like… to… lose their toys..” Bucky smiled only and hit man with his metal arm straight in face. He heard the sound of broken nose, he felt like man’s face was changing in a bloody slurry. He didn’t stop until whole bones in man’s face weren’t broken. He only atopped when man was still. He looked down and let out a sigh, seeing what he has done. But he wasn’t sorry about that. They forced him to do so. There was a blood on his hands, on his face, in his hair, he felt that his grey shirt was soaked with blood too. His chest was hurting him oh so badly, but he couldn’t stop. Not now.

When only he left alive on the square, the Soldier began calculating his strategy. How many more soldiers? Where are the weapons stored? What is his exit plan? The truth was he didn’t believe he’ll make it. But he did. And now he had to run. As far as he only could. He put a lo g knife in his combat boot, he took two more and placed them in his pants’ pockets. He took also as much magazines as he could carry, putting them in his free pockets in his military pants. He took two pistols in his hands and walked straight to the main building of the base.

As soon as he opened the door, he shot the two soldiers first, firing before they had time to suspect the Soldier is no longer their creature. Then he walked straight to where he knew the transport sheds hold the trucks he’ll need to escape. There were soldiers awaiting him between the building and the sheds and they put up stronger resistance. But he fought his way into the sheds.

He put volleys of bullets into the engine blocks of the trucks he didn’t take, so his pursuers will have to call for help, but he knew it won’t be enough. Escape will require all his skills. And more luck than he though the universe will grant him. But he’s come too far. He won’t surrender so easily. They have made a weapon on him. And he’ll use that weapon against them all.

An hour’s hard drive got him to a city, named Zhukovsky. As he entered the city limits, he could already see signs that his enemies are closing around him. Troop transports on main streets. Police and soldiers already on the streets, checking papers. He needed to move fast, to get himself out of here, out of Russia.

He parked the truck in an industrial area. He got off the car and almost immediately he feel on the ground. The sharp pain in his chest threw him on his knees.

After few minutes he managed to got up and he slowly walked into the direction of the forest on the horizon.

He didn’t know how long he was hedging throughout the forest. Finally he slowly sank on his knees, leaning back against the tree. He was pressing the metal palm to the wounds on his chest. He was breathing slowly. Suddenly he realized that with an air, the blood was exhaled with his breaths. He probably had injured lungs. He looked at his metal palm. It was covered in a blood. His own blood.

He got to fight another fight. He got to run another night. He was on his way, and he didn’t feel right. He gotta get himself back. He couldn’t be beaten, that was a fact. He’ll find a way. They ain’t gonna take him down, no way.

He didn’t even notice, when he lost his senses. Whole world has faded away in a darkness.

Steve was walking throughout a forest, he was carefully looking around. Sam and Clint were with him, safeguarding their backs. “Are you sure, Steve?” Clint asked simply, his bow was prepared to shot in every moment. It was a dark night, clouds were veiling the moon, so there was literally no light, it handicapped the search. They had to use a flashlights, but even that didn’t help at all. They erred in a dense fog. Every path they had chosen, was leading to nowhere. But Steve received a confirmed informations. Bucky had to be somewhere around. Suddenly Sam has stopped, raising his hand up, he gave a sign to rest to be quiet. Clint approached Steve and aimed ahead, he was ready to shot. A figure has slowly emerged from the mist. Steve immediately recognized him. It was Bucky. His metal arm was glistening in a light of Sam’s flashlight. Brunette was slowly walking in their direction, holding himself by a chest. He slowly sank down on his knees, letting out a quiet whimper as he did. Steve wasn’t waiting any longer, he ran to the man and knelt next to him, supporting him from falling completely on the ground. “BUCKY….” Rogers whispered, laying Soldier carefully on the forest floor. He slowly pushed man’s hand off his chest to realized there was a huge stain of a fresh blood at his shirt. Falcon and Hawkeye walked to them, lightening place up with their flashlights. “He’s injured” Sam notified quietly. Steve only nodded, slipping hand under Bucky’s arm to lift him up. “Help me, guys” Rogers asked slightly and after a while Barnes was again standing on his feet, supported by Captain America himself. “Let’s take him to the base. There they’ll look upon him” Steve announced as they were walking back to their plain.

Bucky slowly opened his eyes, looking around with a unconscious gaze.

He was in a little room with a walls in a subtle shade of sand. He was laying on a bed, covered with a warm white quilt. His head was rested at the fluffy pillow. Bucky was breathing calmly. When he wanted to get up, he felt a strong hand on his chest which brought him back down in the pillow. The Soldier looked at the side and paled.

Captain America. His former target.

He opened his mouth, but not even a single word had left them. “Shhh… You shall rest now” blonde man took hand back, looking down at the Soldier. “You has been seriously injured.”

Brunette swallowed before he finally spoke. “Who is Bucky?” That was the only one question he wanted to ask. He needed to know. His blue eyes seemed to drill through other man’s chest, reaching his soul. “You are Bucky” Steve managed to whisper after a while of an awkward silence. “Your name is James Barnes, but we all used to call you Bucky or Buck..” Brunette turned his glance aside. “I don’t remember” he mumbled under his breath. “You need a time.. Hydra was in a control over you.” Bucky let himself to close eyes for a while. “And who are you?” the Soldier asked hesitantly. “They said you’re an enemy.” Steve sighed deeply, rubbing his chin. “I’m Steve.. Steve Rogers. And I’m not the enemy. I’m your friend..” he did everything to hide a single tear which was streaming down his face. Bucky turned himself on a side. “I wanna be alone..” he splattered slightly. Steve sighed and slowly rose up from the chair. “I’m glad you’re alive” Rogers added before he left a room.

Itsy bitsy spider is climbing on the wall. Better watch your step or in her web you’ll fall. Spin you round in circles in a net of doubt. If you’re stuck, I’m done with you, beause I won’t get you out.

She was a handsome woman, built on the gorgeous lines of a Renaissance goddess. Her blue eyes, like the sea, were calm and emotionless. Long, wavy red hair, so smooth and silky, almost as if it was tailored from satin. Her pastel white flawless skin made her beautiful pink full lips stand out. The way her long lashes framed her eyes when she captured a target turning them into a stone and the way her full lips would curl into a mischievous grin every time she did so. She had a little mole next to her left eyebrow. Her shape like a rock guitar - rounded hips and very pronounced waist. Her long legs were perfect too.

She appeared in the cafe with the winter snow billowing around her short black skirt. She had a tight lacy blouse under a black coat. Most of people inside did pay an attention to her beauty. She was literally stunning. The clicking of her high heels added rhythm to the soft classical music that played onward without pause. Her eyes scanned the room with determination in search of someone. She walked to a counter, with hipnotizing swing in her hips. She rested hands on the counter, subtly leaning forward to a waiter. “Excuse me” she whispered softly, her voice delicate as a petal of a rose. “I’m looking for someone.” Man behind a bar lifted his chin to give her a look. She opened her little purse and pulled out a photo, which next she gave to a man. “Do you know maybe, where I can find him?” young woman asked. Man was looking at the picture for a while, then he gave it back to the girl. “I do know him. It’s Captain America, everyone knows him here. The easiest way to find him is to go to the S.H.I.E.L.D base, at the shore of the river. It’s a large building, you won’t have any problems to find it” he said, looking obstinately in woman’s decolletage. Redhead nodded slightly, putting the picture back into her purse, then she thanked and turned around to leave thw cafe.

But at the door, she stopped. She has slowly looked around before she pulled a gun out of her coat’s pocket. With several shots she killed everyone in the cafe. Without a blink. She didn’t want to be recognised, that was why she did so.

After all, she put her Desert Eagle Magnum back into her pocket and then redhead has left the cafe, without any witnesses. The place luckily was located at the suburbs of the city, so she was mirebthan sure that no one has seen her. Now she knew, what she has to do.

Two weeks have passed.

Bucky was slowly coming back to his full strengths under watchful eye of Steve. Not everyone was glad about the Winter Soldier presence in the base. Black Widow was constantly showing, how unhappy she is with that fact by never-ending arguments with Rogers and Barnes. Nick Fury ordered agents to keep an eye on Bucky, so there wasn’t a moment, when he could be fully alone.

That day Steve took him at the little walk. Practically, both of them have sneaked out from under the tutelage. They wanted to talk in peace, without a neighboring glances. Steve decided to take Bucky to the little park located at the other side of the river. “How’s your chest?” blonde asked with a care in his voice aa they both took a seats at the wooden bench.

The winter was rather beautiful. The snow was slowly circulating down in the gentle wind, a frosty air was gently pinching the cheeks of two men.

“It’s fine” Bucky’s low voice seemed to slit the air. Steve took a deep breath, improving his blue scarf. “Something new?” Rogers enquired. Bucky shook his head slightly. “Only the fact your mom’s name was Sarah” brunette rubbed his hands to warm them up a bit. Steve couldn’t help but smiled, putting palm at Bucky’s shoulder. “Yes. You have right, Buck.” The Soldier looked at the Captain with an  impassable sadness in those blue eyes of his. “I wish I could remember more, but sometimes.. I just can’t trust my own mind.” Steve nodded. “I know, Buck. I know.”

They spent almost half an hour, talking with each other. Then, when the sun went down, Steve commanded a way back to the base.

When the two men were at a wide path between a rows of trees, they heard some noises behind them. It was a sound of reloaded gun. They both turned around. Steve’s brows narrowed, he instinctively put a hand at Bucky’s chest, pushing him back a little.

In front of them was standing a young redhead woman. She was holding a gun in her straight hands, aiming in Captain’s head.

“Steve…” Bucky said slowly. Blonde gave his friend a sign to stay silent. “Who’re you?” Rogers asked simply. Redhead’s lips turned into a wry smile. “You’re in my way, Captain, so you better watch out” her voice was melodious. “And you’re in a possession of something, which belongs to Hydra.”

Steve looked at Bucky with a corner of his eye. She wanted Bucky.

“Who’re you?” he repeated coldly, slowly reaching to his pocket, where he had a pager. He pushed the button hoping that Sam will hear the sound of his own pager at the gym. Woman laughed shortly. “You’re pathetic. You always have been. You really thought Hydra has been destroyed, but as you can see you were wrong. Now give the Winter Soldier back to us and no one will be hurt.”

Steve slowly started to take little steps backward. He was without his shield, without a protection. They were at the open terrain, there was no place to hide. And Bucky was with him. He couldn’t lose Bucky again. Not after all those years. Not when he just got him back…

Woman was dressed in a black leather pants and a black bluse with a tactic vest on top of it. Her outfit was emphasizing her body shape, she was slim and fit.the Her combat boots had a high sole and they also were black. Her long wavy red hair were loose. She was measuring him with a cold gaze of her blue eyes.

“Who’re you!?” this time Steve yelled. He was trying to gain some precious time.

Young woman lifted her chin up a bit, looking hardly at Steve, she smiled wryly. “I’m the new generation of the Winter Soldier.”

Author: Beast

The chronicles of the winter || Part VI

Part II  || Part III || Part IV  || Part V continuation of imagine

Summary: Bucky and Steve fight together against Hydra's agents, but unfortunately not everything is going right...

Word Count: 1379

Warnings: none

“Behind you! Bucky!” Steve yelled.

Bucky saw them then. Silent as beetles, two men scuttled toward him. More followed, slipping from behind the trees. Under cover of the snow and fog, the pack had stalked in, unseen, converging from three directions. They were from Hydra. They carried knives, chains and guns.

They’d sent the girl as a honey pot to hold Steve and Bucky in place while the gang closed in. She’d smiled at them while she was planning to watch them die.

“More of them down that way” Steve dropped out of the fog, into his usual place, taking the left. They were two against that many…

Bucky quickly reached to his pocket, pulling out a little knife. He picked a target - one of men in front, where his friends would see him die - and threw his weapon. The man collapsed with a sucking, bubbling neck wound. The familiar stink of death rose in the alley. Bucky pulled his second knife. The thugs hesitated, sending glances back and forth, fingering blade and cudgel. Attack or retreat. It could go either way. If this lasts long, they’ll get killed.

“Mine on the right” Bucky threw and his blade hit badly and glanced off a collar bone of another enemy soldier. One man down. One wounded. “Waste of a knife, damn” Bucky growled in a low voice, looking briefly at Steve.

Steve nodded and ran straight at another Hydra’s soldier, after a second they both were tussling on the snow. Rogers straddled man, pinning him down as his fists were aiming blows in man’s face. He stopped only, when he felt a strong thwack in the back of his head.

Bucky’s last knife was in his boot. Not for throwing. This one was for killing up close. He forced his mind to the pattern the attackers wove, trying to spot the leader. Kill the leader and the others might scatter. And in a flash he realized. SHE WAS A LEADER OF THE PACK.

There was no way to get the woman. She stayed in their shadow, using Hydra’s soldiers as a shield. Then he didn’t think about her at all. Chain whistled past him. Bucky turned around and grabbed it and jerked the man off balance and drove his knife through a gap in the leather waistcoat, up under the breastbone, to the heart.

For an instant Bucky stood locked, face to face, with the man he’d just killed - a thickset red-head with pale skin and vicious, gleeful, mad blue eyes. Outrage and disbelief pulsed out at him and drained away. Man’s eyes went blank. Then the dead bastard thrashed, rolled with the knife, and took it down with him as he fell. There was no time to get it back. A crowbar cracked down on his shoulder with a bright, sour, copper pain. Bucky fell, dodged a boot, and rolled away as Steve took down his attacker.

The woman screamed. “Take ‘em alive! THEY want them alive! Move your fucking fat asses, suckers!”

Up. He had to get up. Bucky got back on his feet, shaking his head, trying to see through a black haze. The girl was standing between two men, aiming her gun in them. The Soldier staggered through madness and confusion, fog and pain. Steve was swearing a blue streak.

Suddenly more agents appeared from different sides.

“FUCK” Bucky cursed aloud, looking at Steve. “There’s too many of them! Call for a support, Steve.” “I did” Rogers quickly looked around. He ran to the nearest bench and ripped off its back. He was going to use it to the defence.

Redhead woman was observing all that scene with a restlessness. She briefly looked at her watch. 10:12 PM. She was belated and she knew she’s gonna be punished by her leaders. If they ordered her to be back in base at 10:10 PM, she was just obligated to do so, no matter with costs. She threw a cold glance at the man on her left. “Agent 3, we can’t allow it to lasts. Use the Alsatian.” Man nodded slightly and whistled loudly.

Bucky and Steve were fighting still, when they heard a mighty roar nearby. Agents, which were attacking them, moved away apace. Bucky helped Steve to rise up from the ground. He suddenly noticed, that Steve’s face was changing. His friend paled, looking above Bucky’s shoulder with a horror on his face.

Bucky turned his head back gradually. Bucky instinctively took a step back, allignig with Steve.

In front of them, few meters away, was standing something he saw for the first time in his life.

From the shadows came a huge wolf or something similar, much more bigger than a normal wolf, yet he was no an ordinary predator. He moved to block them, staring with almost human eyes at them. The wolf had a huge scar across a right side of his face, the green eyes were glowing in a dim light of lanterns in the park. The black-grey fur was ruffled by each wind blow. The only sound was his breathing, his flaring nostrils as he took in Bucky’s scent. He curled up his gums to reveal yellow stained teeth and then let out a low rumbling growl.

Bucky slowly turned his head to face Steve. “What now, Mr Know-It-All?” Bucky asked quietly. Steve started to move backward as slowly as he could, still with hia eyes on the animal. “Slowly, Buck. Don’t make any chaotic movements…” So Bucky did as Steve said. It was until the Soldier stepped on the branch, which cracked under pressure of his boots.

But animal didn’t attack. The wolf slowly stepped back, disappearing in the shadow.

Redhead’s lips curled up into a wry smile when agents attacked Rogers and Barnes once again. The two men seemed to be tired of the fight and she knew it won’t be long.

Bucky managed to take down 3 of the agents rather easily, Steve with all his strength was fighting against the biggest of the men.

Bucky wanted to help his friend, so he walked at the attacker, but suddenly he heard something behind.

Through the darkness came the glow of two green eyes, like sallow lamplight eight feet off the ground. They moved with a slight sway, as if the unseen body prowled like a big cat. But it definelty wasn’t a cat. Bucky stopped. The eyes did not, with rapid acceleration and a more bounding motion they came right for him. In less than two seconds he was on his back gasping for air. The first strike was with a poisoned claw to slow the reaction time of the victim, after that it was play time. The monster sank his teeth into Bucky’s neck, not too deep, but deep enough to weaken brunette’s strengths with a blood loss. Bucky let out a vicious scream, with his metal hand he grasped the throat of the huge animal and squeezed it as hard as he only could. With all his strength he pushed animal back, turning quickly at his knees. Man crawled aside, pressing his wound on neck with his hand. He could easily heard that wolf was preparing himself to the second attack, but suddenly another sound appeared. A chopper. That probably was a reason he hasn’t been attacked again.

Bucky lifted his head, seeing how Steve has been pinned down to the ground by two agents, one of them used an inhibitor to make sure Steve won’t fight again. The electricity ran quickly throughout whole Rogers’ body, causing a loud yell of pain.

Bucky yelled too, from anger and helplessness. Now, when everything seemed to be coming back to normal, Hydra stepped into their lives again. In the most cruel way.

Bucky felt, how heavy his eyelids were becoming with every second. He laid himself back on the snow, on his back, looking at the dark night sky. With a corner of his eye he noticed a black military chopper landed on the small meadow behind the trees. The last thing he saw was the redhead woman, she crouched next to him. “You see, Barnes, Hydra always receives everything she wants” her voice began to fade out, blurring to nothingness as all around him.

Author: Beast

The chronicles of the winter || Part VII

Part II  || Part III || Part IV || Part V  || Part VI continuation of imagine

Summary: Bucky and Steve woke up in Hydra’s base... nothing gonna be so easy now.

Word Count: 2765

Warnings: none

He slowly opened his eyes, looking around with unconscious glance. He was in a little room. He almost immediately recognized that place. It was his room in Hydra’s base. “Fuck..” Bucky cursed under his breath, slowly sitting at the edge of bed. His head was hurting so badly, he had dizzy.

Few minutes have passed before he was able to rise from his seat. He walked to the door unsteadily, leaning his metal hand against a cold wall for a support. He put hand at a handle and he tried to opened the door, but he quickly realized they were locked.

“Not so quick, soldier” a soft voice came to his ears from behind. He turned around and frowned. From the shadow of his room appeared a figure. Redhead female. “You…” he growled, his hands clenched into fists. The woman took a lock of her hair behind her ear. She smirked, her eyes were glowing in a dim light falling to the room throughout a little window placed under the ceiling. “And who were you expecting, soldier?” she asked in a soft voice. “Someone competent” he snapped angrily in response. Another wave of a terrible headache caused, that Bucky almost lost his balance, so he leaned his back against the metal door. Female laughed, but her laugh was cold like a ice needles. “So here I am, soldier” girl without any signs of a hesitation took a seat at Bucky’s bed, her eyes were still on him. “If you think that someone from captaincy will come to bargain, you’re fucking wrong, honey.” “Don’t call me that, fucking slatch” he threw her an angry glance, what only caused another wave of her laugh. “Where’s Steve?” Woman slowly, with a grace, crossed her legs. “Our doctors are taking care of him now” she said with a shrug. “So will they about you too, soon.”

Bucky took a deep breath. He only wanted to break her neck, but it wouldn’t help at the moment. He needed to invent a good plan, if he wanted to help  himself and Steve. “Get out” he finally snarled, not even looking at the woman. “I wanna be alone.”

Redhead was sitting still for a moment, then she slowly rose from the place and with a swing in her hips, she approached him. He didn’t see a fear in her. She was a weapon. So was he. At least they had something in common… He frowned again, when her palm has rested at his metal limb. Her fingers traced a way down, to his palm. “You see, soldier. That’s our fate. To be alone” she said, her blue eyes shifted over his body to finally rest at his face.

He couldn’t bear it any longer, he couldn’t bear her glance, so gently but decisively he pushed her back. “Don’t touch me” Bucky muttered quietly, this time he didn’t run away with his own glance. He was looking hardly into her eyes. If this was a test of strength, he couldn’t gamble away…

A little smile crept onto her lips, before she nodded slightly. “Move away” she ordered coldly, so he did. He shifted aside, making a space at door. Female opened the door with a little golden key, which she pulled out of her pocket. She didn’t look at him, when she was leaving his room. She didn’t even look around, when she was walking along the long corridor, with that sweet swing in her hips. She was so hipnotizing…

Bucky was surprised that she didn’t lock his door again, but deep inside he knew it could be nothing more but trap, so he decided to not risk too much. He closed the door and he walked to his bed. He sat on the mattress, letting out a deep sigh. That woman started to annoy him. She was too confident. Too reinless. He thought that she has been through same tortures he has been through for all those years. Bucky slowly laid his head at the single pillow, looking up at the ceiling. He closed eyes, trying to fall asleep, but the sleep wouldn’t want to come to him. Bucky’s thoughts were still going about Steve. He couldn’t stop it. But finally, after several minutes, he fell asleep.

He had a nightmare. He was in a room filled with darkness. He heard a familiar voice. “Till the end of the line, Buck.” In next moment he felt a blade stabbed his heart.

He woke up, covered in a cold sweat. He had to find Steve.

Steve woke up groggy and very unsure of where he was. There were voices around him but Steve couldn’t make out what they were saying, and there were metal bands being secured to different parts of his body, locking him in place in what felt like a chair. Something was shoved into his mouth.

The murmur of voices suddenly cut off and then…

PAIN.

The most intense pain Steve had ever felt, radiating throughout his head. He didn’t know where it was coming from, but it was all consuming, keeping him from thinking about anything except the pain. Eventually, the pain stopped. And then, after a while, it started up again.

Steve opened his eyes slowly, giving himself time to adjust to the new light. When there were no more spots in his eyes he could see a tiled ceiling above him, florescent lights spaced evenly throughout it.

After a few moments of wondering, Steve sat up and looked around. He was lying in a small bed in a small room. It felt familiar, looking similar to a single hospital room.

Suddenly some unfamiliar figure entered to the room. “Captain, it’s very good to see you awake” the man’s voice was smooth and he took a few extra steps into the room. Steve stood up to greet him, and shook his hand when the man offered his. “Where am I?” Steve asked simply, trying to remember, who that man might be. “You’re in the Complex Zero” man uttered slightly. “You’re working for our organization, Captain.” Steve’s brow went up in a consternation when four armed soldiers entered the room, taking places next to the door.

Steve cleared his throat anxiously. “If you don’t mind my asking, Sir, what exactly is going on?” Man looked him over for a few moments, before he spoke. “Captain Rogers, we are going to reveal to you some information that you’re really not going to like. But, once you understand, I believe that you will see that we are on the right side of this.” Steve only felt more confusion. “Of course, Sir… I’m sure whatever you have to tell me can’t be that bad…right?” “Alright, Captain Rogers” man sighed, “the truth of the matter is that we work for an organization, in fact, I’m one of the heads of said organization, that fights against what you might consider ‘the right thing.’ We fight for the people, if you give people too much freedom, such horrible things can happen. Two World Wars, for example, and so many other wars. Our organization’s purpose is to help the world’s population in making the decisions that they are not ready to make. We do good work, Captain Rogers.”

Steve frowned. “I…don’t understand” he admitted. “Why would I be against that? I mean, it just sounds like you’re doing what a government would do, right? You’re making the big decisions so everyone else doesn’t have to. Isn’t that what our government has always done?”

One of the soldiers smiled widely. “Precisely, Captain Rogers. We’re just doing what anyone else would do.”

“So…why, exactly, would I be against it?” Everyone in the room tensed ever so slightly. After a few tense moments, man in the suit sighed. “Because we go by the name Hydra, Captain.”

For a few seconds it was so silent. Then Steve was in motion, sprinting towards the door. People cursed, and Steve felt two pairs of hands clamp down on him. He managed to yank out of three of the hands, but one had a good grip and didn’t let go of his shirt. Steve reached the door anyway, but there was nothing he could do - the door was biometrically locked. Steve whirled around, coming face to face with the soldier, who owned the hand still grasping his shirt. Steve slammed a fist into the man’s face, which made him stumble away, but then another man was suddenly there,throwing punches and kicking out.

When the two of them managed to pin him, there was the slight pinch on his neck of a needle sliding in, and after another moment, his vision faded to black.

It has been three or four days since the moment, when he and Steve have been captured by Hydra. Bucky couldn’t bear with the feeling of an anxiety about Steve, so he decided to try to find his friend. Using the fact his doors weren’t locked, Bucky slowly opened them and walked at the corridor. He looked around, but there were no guards or soldiers, so brunette apace walked ahead.

I’m wasted… All I wanna do is find you. I’m faded… All I wanna do is save you.

All the corridors were similar, but he was taking the way instinctively. He knew that place as his own pocket. It was easy for him to find a correct way to the laboratory level. He had a feeling that Steve was there.

Bucky rapidly opened the huge metal door at the end of one of the corridors and he needed to blink few times. An alburnum of the next corridor has blinded him for a while. When his eyes got used to it, he started to walk along the corridor, faster and faster with each step.

Suddenly he heard a loud scream and he recognised the voice. It was Steve. Bucky ran ahead, as fast as he only could. At the end of the corridor he fell at few guards, they were trying to stop him, but Bucky attacked them with all his might. As soon as they all were down, he forced the door in and he steeped into the small room. There was only a huge window opposite him, so Barnes walked to it. He looked through it and paled.

He saw a huge laboratory room. There was a single metal chair in the middle of the room. And there Steve was sitting… Bucky hitted in the window few times, but it was a bulletproof tempered glass. It only caused that few doctors raised their heads to give him a look. Bucky was cursing loudly, still hitting the window’s glass. He sweared to himself that he’ll kill them all. For what they did to Steve…

There was also a man, dressed in a black suit. He threw Bucky a rude gaze, a mischief grin appeared on man’s face.

Suddenly Bucky felt a strong blow in the back of his head. He fell in the ground, loosing his senses.

“Any progress?” Steve knew that voice, but he couldn’t place where from.

“It’s the same each day. The first six hours after the wipe are perfect, he’s just like The Soldier, taking orders without question, doing anything and everything we require of him. However, after that, he continuing gets better and better until, at twenty-four hours, he’s the same man he was before the wipe. We’re at eleven hours right now. It’s quite remarkable, really, the way the serum in his blood works, regenerating his brain cells again and again without fault.”

There was a sound of annoyance, and then there was a hand on his chin, lifting his head. Steve blinked blearily, his vision a little foggy, and looked up at the sort-of-familiar face now hovering in front of him. It was a man in suit, with glasses, who was looking at him curiously.

“Are you in there, Captain?” the man’s mouth moved and the words came out, but they seemed disconnected in Steve’s mind. Steve didn’t know how to reply to the words, didn’t particularly understand what they meant, so he just stared back at the man and tried to remember where he’d seen him before. Nothing was clicking, so Steve gave up on trying, it would come back to him eventually. Probably…

Steve yanked against the metal bands restraining him to the chair, glaring at all of the technicians in the room. They all seemed to be waiting for something, none of them meeting his eyes. Frankly, Steve didn’t really know why they weren’t wiping him again, that’s what they always did when he fully regained himself again. Steve didn’t quite know why, if they knew he was going to get his fully memory back after twenty-four hours, why keep trying? The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.

Finally, the door to the room slid open and in walked man named Aiden Black, the freaking head of Hydra. He was dressed, as per usual, in a tailored three-piece suit. Redhead female came in behind him, in her normal fitted black shirt and pants, and black leather jacket. “Good morning, Captain. I trust you slept well?” Black said congenially, hands in his trouser pockets. Steve simply glared back, scowling, not giving them any response. At his lack of answer, Black simply shrugged. “Ah, well. It doesn’t matter. I’m here to talk to you about your new and complete loyalty to Hydra.”

Steve couldn’t help but scoff at that. “You’re out of your goddamn mind if you actually think that I’m going to ever be loyal to Hydra. I won’t do a single thing for you, Black.”

Black just gave a knowing smile and tilted his head. “We’ll see about that. Bring him in!” Suddenly, the door slid open again and few soldiers walked in, looking slightly smug, which was a little disconcerting considering the circumstances. Behind one of the soldiers was another man. The man had shoulder-length brown hair and a metal arm, but that wasn’t the weirdest thing Steve had ever seen and the man’s face…

Oh shit.

“B-Bucky?” Steve stuttered out.

It was Bucky, but, at the same time, it wasn’t. His face was expressionless, his eyes staring lifelessly at the wall far behind Steve. His arms hung loosely at his sides, fingers not even twitching as he stood, perfectly still. There was something so… blank about him, something so dead, that it made a shudder run up Steve’s spine.

“Quite the sight, isn’t he?” Black said proudly, going to stand by Bucky’s side. He put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and Steve yanked against his bindings at the sight, snarling and gnashing his teeth like a wild animal. “His arm, it’s been modified throughout the years as the world had a lot of technological advances, but it’s quite similar to the original model.”

Seeing Bucky standing in front of him was life changing, even though Bucky wasn’t quite himself.

“You’re a smart man, Captain Rogers, I’m sure you can put the pieces together. How does Mr. Barnes fit into your new loyalty to us?” The blonde snarled, understanding perfectly. “If I don’t cooperate, if I don’t do everything you say, you’ll hurt him. You’ll hurt Bucky.”

Black nodded, satisfied. “Exactly, Captain Rogers, you got it in one. Now, you are going to be released from that chair, and you are not going to attack anyone. If you do, well, you will be subdued and Mr. Barnes will be hurt. Have I made myself clear?” Steve nodded, resigned and Black nodded to one of the technicians, who pushed a couple buttons on his computer and the metal bands holding Steve down snapped open. Steve immediately jumped to his feet and rushed to Bucky’s side, murmuring his name.

Black took a few steps towards the door, and then turned back. “Oh, one last thing, Captain Rogers. Hidden away in Mr. Barnes’s metal arm is not only a tracking devise that works anywhere in the world, but an explosive devise that will make him and anything within two-hundred feet of him go boom. So I want to make myself very clear, Captain, if you try to escape, whether you’re on mission with Mr. Barnes or just hanging about this facility, I will not hesitate to push a button and make sure you won’t even be able to scrape pieces of him off the sidewalk, he’ll be so demolished.”

There was a pause, and then Aiden Black smiled, completely at ease. “I look forward to us working together, Captain.”

Author: Beast

The chronicles of the winter || Part IX

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

Summary: Steve’s mission went wrong… Very wrong.

Word Count: 2194

Warnings: Blood, injuries

Author: Beast

Since their common evening, Emily hasn’t spoken with Bucky at all.

He saw her few times. They passed each other like a ghosts at the corridors of the complex. Everytime when Bucky wanted to ask the woman, what exactly has changed between two of them that they couldn’t even talk for a while, Emily was simply passing him by, don’t even looking at him.

He easily could feel that everything has changed.

Deep inside he knew he shouldn’t have been doing that. He shouldn’t let her seduce him, it just couldn’t end well.

Bucky’s contact with Steve also has been restricted.

Their supervisors seemed to do everything to separate men from each other.

Bucky could also feel kind of a distance, which has built up between him and Steve.

Another week has passed and Bucky confirmed himself in a premonition that something was wrong.

While he was looking for Steve, he heard a conversation between two of the guards in canteen.

“… with her” one of them said simply, drinking coffee.

“I would give everything to be at his place at the moment” second man chuckled. “She’s pretty hot.” “Of course she’s” guard who was drinking the coffee stretched his back. “Rogers is a fucking lucky dude, isn’t he?”

“Don’t ya remember? He’s not Rogers anymore. They said he’s called Captain Hydra now” older guy shrugged.

Bucky frowned, listening to this little conversation. He realized that Steve has to be outside the complex. And… Was he with Emily? Have they had a mission? But Steve would tell him… Why he didn’t?

Bucky, however, felt a cold shrink in his heart.

EMILY. She also went away without farewell. Without single word. Why both of them were treating him like that?

He couldn’t find an answer.

One day, Bucky has been taken to the small room at one of the lowest levels of the complex.

There was three man awaiting at him. Two doctors and no one else but Aiden Black himself.

“Good morning, soldier” man in a suit smirked viciously.

Bucky didn’t say a word, he simply took a seat in front of the man.

“Why are you so silent, soldier?” Black pretended a concern.

“Where’s Steve?” Bucky simply asked.

Black raised his mouth corners in a haughty grin.

“He left. He has more important things to do instead sitting here with you” man said.

Bucky snapped his head to face Aiden Black again.

“Liar” Barnes gasped loudly. “Steve’s my friend. He wouldn’t…”

Black smirked again.

“Funny” Black mused with a sick smile, getting dangerously close to Bucky’s face, “wasn’t that exactly the same thing that you said the first time when Hydra found you?” he laughed harshly. “Face it, Barnes. Steve Rogers’ dead. Now he’s the Captain Hydra and he’s working for us and only for us” man in suit got up from his seat and walked slowly around the room. “Nothing can bring him back” Black finally stopped behind Bucky’s back and he put his large hands and Winter Soldier’s shoulders. Black also leaned down and whispered directly into Bucky’s ear. “And as I suppose he’s having a lot of fun with your Em.”

The last statement was like a sharp blade of a knife stabbed into Bucky’s chest.

Bucky responded with spitting in Black’s smirking face.

Of course, as always when he wasn’t behaving like they would wanted, he was greeted with violence, but that didn’t matter.

“Now, get some rest, soldier” Aiden growled slowly, wiping flecks of Bucky’ blood of off his hands. “We have work to do.”

When Black left the room, Bucky yelled aloud, hitting the table in front of him with his metal fist.

Evening had long since fallen, the chill of night picking at the edges of his meager jacket as he silently made his way through the quieting city. Captain Hydra was walking, passing closed shops and tracing streets he didn’t know.

He had a mission to do and he didn’t want to let his supervisors down. Steve had to kill a director of some organization named Robrax. It was kind of a pharmaceutical industry enterprise. Hydra was willing to do anything, just to overtake some researches results. Steve only knew they have wanted to make a new biological weapon.

He knew he should be careful, because, following the information he got, it seemed that other organization has wanted him for their own businesses.

Being in a deep thoughtfulness, he easily got at the terrain of the restricted area.

The building was oh so large. White walls and glazed doors were giving that real estate more dignity then he thought in a first moment. With a knife in his hand, he quietly slipped into a large building. He sneaked unheeded next to the guard’s place and he headed directly into the office number 10, located at the second floor.

Taking a staircase, he reached the floor and when he checked that no body’s there, he slowly stepped at the corridor. He went along it until he found a door with a gold numbers on them. Steve opened them and walked inside. Immediately he noticed the man he was looking for.

Dressed in a black suit, guy was sitting in the leather chair, making some notes. Fortunately for Steve, man was facing him with his back.

Captain Hydra walked over to his target and as quickly as he could, he put his palm at man’s mouth to cut over his throat in the next second. It didn’t take long for man to bleed out.

Steve, as soon as he made sure man’s dead, he left the room, putting his knife back into his pocket. He also easily managed to leave the building.

It was first time when he killed someone because of an order. Deep inside the last degraded ounce of his morality was trying to convince him that he was making a huge mistake. But he pushed those thoughts away.

He walked slowly along the street, heading to his apartment, which Hydra has rented for him. The barking of a dog jarred him from his thoughts, body suddenly tense and eyes, hard as steel and just as cold, scanning his surroundings for any threat as he stopped in his tracks. His knife was produced from his pocket, not as large but just as deadly in his capable hands. 

Another noise caught his attention. Footsteps, ten feet behind to the right. His mind was just methodical and calculating. Fingers tightened around the handle of the combat knife, although he showed no outward signs of realizing he was being approached; to any passersby it merely looked as if he was staring off into the jeweled skyline. The darkness would either be a great hindrance or a welcome advantage, but only time would tell..

Click. The sound of the safety switching off of a pistol was all the prompting Steve needed. Moving with a speed unexpected in his depleted state he spun around. A great blaze of light and concussive sound filled the street, the weapon discharging as Steve plunged his knife deep into the chest of his would-be assailant. In that quarter second of movement he had searched, located and struck, the metal blade deftly gliding between ribs and into a lung. The air filled with the sharp scent of copper and iron as blood poured from the wound.

Steve quickly realized it was one of the guards from Robrax.

The haphazard discharge of the weapon had blasted a round into the sidewalk, the sound of it no doubt alerting every person within a two block radius. I need to escape.

The man collapsing into a pool of his own blood, not dead but not quite alive.

If there was one there had to be more, he thought, and they had to be coming for him. He made it two steps before he heard the crack of a sniper rifle, echoing off some far-off building. The next few seconds blurred together, but he remembered being knocked off his feet, air forced from his lungs as he hit the brick wall of the building next to him, knife clamoring from his hand. Heat blossomed on his back, a burst of wet crimson that trickled down his spine as a bullet planted itself squarely into his right shoulder blade. The choking cry of surprise that escaped him startled him.

The pain hadn’t hit him yet, but his body felt like ice. His legs were sluggish underneath him as he struggled to his feet, bolting into an alleyway as he heard another bullet slam into the wall behind him. It’d been a low shot, as if for his leg. They want me alive. The thought filled him with a sick dread as he realized that they wanted to put him back on his leash, or worse, put him down so he couldn’t spill their secrets, although he had no secrets to tell. At least, not as he was now.

Shouts of men filled the street. “Down the alleyway!” and “He’s getting away!” among other things he couldn’t catch. The pain was starting to filter into his awareness, starting as an acidic heat that slowly built in on itself. His heart was pounding, lungs heaving, as he tried to lose the guard’s team in the maze of back alley streets. He needed to get to the apartment.

As he rounded a corner, two guardians spotted him, shouting loudly to others. A swear hissed under his breath, narrowly avoiding another bullet aimed for his legs. His reflexes were slowing, he could feel it, his strength draining from the wound the harder he pushed himself. A pistol was produced from his pocket, only two rounds fired with the same deadly precision he had used to change history numerous times. The first man dropped in a heap, not even getting the luxury to realize he had been hit. The other’s ribs popped wetly as the bullet tore open his side, letting out a ghastly cry as he tumbled to the ground and didn’t get back to his feet.

Without a moment’s hesitation the Steve was gone, vanishing into the darkness like the ghost he was before more of the guard’s team could arrive. Rain earlier in the day had slickened the streets, helping to hide his trail of blood as he snaked his way through the sleeping city. He had no idea how long he was running and barely had any recollection of where he was going, his body operating almost entirely on instinct by the time he reached that familiar building. His running had slowed to a staggering shamble, forcing his legs, which he lost feeling in about three minutes ago, to climb up the flight of stairs.

His breathing came with difficulty, his limbs heavy and blood like ice. The worn clothing he had been wearing was soaked through with his own blood, which still bubbled from the sniper’s bullet.

The door to the second floor apartment seemed like a nearly insurmountable obstacle. His glassed-over eyes darted from the knob to the floor, then to a small, out-of-place planter of tiny flowers. Barely a murmur of thought crossed his mind as he nudged it with his foot, exposing a key. He was too exhausted and in too much pain to question just why he believed there would have been a key there. The key was retrieved, clumsily inserted into the lock, and the door opened without protest; he could have kicked it open or picked the lock like last time, but he didn’t have the time or strength to attempt it.

With a soft clink of metal the key fell from his trembling fingers to the floor, shakily standing at the threshold taking great, heaving breaths. His vision was growing blurry and his hearing muffled, but after a moment of hesitation he stepped inside, pulling the door shut behind him, the click of the lock oddly comforting. Movement in front of him, down the narrow hall, and he knew he wasn’t alone. The pistol was still clutched in his left hand. He tried to take another step but his body had had enough; the pistol dropped to the floor, abandoned, as he tried to steady himself by pressing that palm to the wall.

Something was spoken to him but he didn’t catch it, gaze lifting to where he’d seen the movement earlier. Someone was standing a few yards away now. He didn’t need to hear to know who it was. Breath was inhaled sharply, words attempted but failed.

Emily Vandom. 

His whole body was shaking; it felt like the world was collapsing in on itself all around him. Underneath all the pain was a faint, lingering disappointment. Pain washed his thoughts away, a low whimper in his throat betraying the fact he was injured. He was going to go down, he felt it, and not a moment later did his right leg buckle, his whole body collapsing with it. He fell into something warm and yielding, not hard floor like he expected, but he had no time to ponder it as the darkness closed in on him.

The chronicles of the winter || Part X

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

Word Count: 3059

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, strong language, blood and injuries

Author: Beast

A/N: I’m incredibly sorry fellas for a such long delay! I got a lot of stuff to take care of and tbh I wasn’t really into writing Chronicles for some time. But now, with a huge thanks to my lovely lady and my friends, I decided to make this chapter. I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I when I was writing it. And here’s what I wanna announce: only two chapters left. Chronicles will have 12 chapters in all. I hope you won’t mind them to be a bit longer then ever before. And for a smut scene, if some of you, my dear readers, would be interested, I was listening to song made by talented polish vocalist, Kasia Moś. I leave here a link to this song, just in case ♥ Enjoy! :)

Steve had been asleep when he heard the heavy footsteps followed by the door opening; at first he thought it might have been Emily, but then he realized there was no way she would ever make that much noise. He had slipped out of bed silently, shield retrieved from the bedside and brought into a defensive position. A million scenarios ran through his head, none of them pleasant, especially once the sharp scent of blood reached him.

To say he'd been surprised when he saw Bucky in the doorway was an understatement. He caught sight of the pistol the soldier held once he pushed the door shut behind him. He's going to shoot me, had been his first line of thought, and not a moment later he felt extremely guilty for immediately jumping to that conclusion. His body had eased a bit the moment the pistol was dropped, his own shield lowering and eventually dropped as well. There was only a moment's hesitation before he edged forward, closing the gap between them. He stopped a few yards away, not wanting to make him feel cornered.

"Bucky?" he spoke softly, tone gentle and light. His heart skipped a beat when the soldier's head lifted and looked to him, but his hope died when he saw his face. His eyes were greyed, dull and empty and so very tired. The second he saw his legs buckle Steve was right there, catching him before he hit the ground. He'd expected him to struggle, to lash out and fight, not to just lie there limp in his grasp. It'd scared him more than when he'd found his throat clasped in that metal hand. The amount of blood covering his friend was terrifying; who knew how much he could spare to lose in his state.

It'd taken him all of two seconds to get the blood-matted hoody off of the assassin, exposing a torn shirt and a devastating wound on his shoulder. He dimly recalled seeing a similar wound on a soldier Bucky had picked off of his back in the war. A sniper in the city was alarming, but not as surprising as he would have liked.

"D-don't do this to me, Buck" Steve was practically begging, fingers numbed with shock pressed against the wound to the soldier's back in a desperate attempt to stem the bleeding. His other arm gently held him up, cradling him against his body as he tried not to dissolve into fearful panic. Is Hydra after him, or is it Robrax?, Steve thought to himself, trying to calm down.

Steve put as much pressure as he dared on the wound, suddenly very conscious of his strength. Bucky looked so delicate like this, and he wasn't sure if the bullet had caused a fracture. “Emily!” Steve yelled. “Em! I need your help!”

Redhead woman stepped into the room and was about to say something, but she only covered her mouth with hands. “Buck…” silent whisper left her mouth as she quickly got to her knees besides him. “Oh God, Steve, what’s with him!?” “He was shot” Captain said simply, looking around. “I need something, like material.. We need to stop the bleeding” he ordered coldly. Girl nodded slightly getting up. She ran to the bathroom and took two towels from the hangers. Minutes seemed like hours, but eventually the bleeding slowed. Steve scarcely cared that his clothes were now stained with it, just relieved that the mortal danger was now diminished. All towels were completely soaked with Bucky’s blood. Captain didn't waste any time trying to bandage the wound. Getting up and leaving him was not an option, not even for a moment, so he cannibalized his own shirt into a makeshift wrapping. He removed the soldier's shirt first and then folded up some of the fabric and pressed it to the injury. The bullet's possible presence in the wound was dimly acknowledged, but he didn't have the skill or tools to safely extract it. He would treat it proper later, but for now his main focus was to keep the bleeding at a minimum. He broke down his shirt into strips of fabric, knotting it together and using it to secure the fabric pad to the wound. “Steve…” Emily was whispering on and on, her soft hand placed on his shoulder. “Oh my God… We can’t lose him.. I can’t..” “Hush” Steve threw her a brief glance, to take care of Bucky’s wound shortly after.

Throughout the rough medical treatment Bucky hadn't so much as twitched. Steve could feel him breathing, and a quick check told him his pulse was stable, but slower than he would have liked. The serum they had injected him with might not as been as effective as his, but it was doing a fine enough job keeping him alive.

"You're doing great, Bucky" Captain was fully aware that he likely couldn't hear him, but it made him feel a little better to encourage him. He was sure he hadn't heard a kind word directed towards him in decades, and the thought made his heart ache. "You're gonna be fine, Buck, I promise. Me and Em will take care of you.." his voice hitched slightly, hands trembling as he gathered the assassin up into his arms.

He considered moving him to the bedroom but decided against it. Instead he placed him carefully on the sofa, onto his left side so that his breathing wouldn't be obstructed and his wound easily reached.

“Emily, can you gather up some medical supplies, some blankets and a clean shirt, you can find it in my bag” blonde man looked at redhead woman. She obeyed. After some moments she came to the little living room and handled stuff to Steve. Then Steve hit the light switch. A small lamp flickered on, and the scene it revealed drew the blood from his face. The floor was smeared with so much crimson that he doubted the stains would ever lift. His spare key was abandoned on the floor, near the pistol that Bucky had dropped earlier. The ruined clothes he'd removed still lay on the floor next to the towels; he'd be sure to dispose of them carefully. If Hydra really was who had hurt him, then they would no doubt be looking for any sign of him. The light cast a horrible realization of just how awful Bucky looked as well. Now without his shirt, Steve could see every little bruise, every wound that covered the assassin. His stomach turned in disgusted horror at the painful past each scar, each little mark told. Old injuries from knives, bullets and who knew what else were etched into his skin, telling a history devoid of peace and filled with violence. 

A washcloth was produced along with a bottle of disinfectant, wetting the fabric with it before he went to work on some of the smaller wounds. He was silently thankful for his unconsciousness, as he was sure there would be no way to do this had he been fully awake.

The soldier twitched slightly under his fingers as he worked on an old, infected wound on his side, curling into himself before letting out a pained whine. The former SHIELD agent hesitated at that, unsure if he should continue. If he was feeling the disinfectant that meant he had to be regaining consciousness. If he woke up with him hovering over him, covered in his blood and with no memory of how he got there, well, Steve wouldn't blame him in the slightest if he lashed out. He bit his lip, thinking for another moment, before he continued to clean the wound, taking care to be a bit gentler.

"It's okay, Buck, I promise…" he tried to soothe, even if he couldn't hear him yet. "You're safe, you're safe, you're safe…" he repeated it like a mantra as he finished with the wound, placing a pad of gauze over it and securing it with a little medical tape. He didn't dare touch the bullet wound now that he was capable of feeling pain, and he was also rather sure he'd need specialized help with it.

Blood has been cleaned away, Steve dried his hands.

Emily was sitting next to Bucky, holding his hand and stroking it gently. “It’s them, right?” she asked simply, not paying an attention to look at Steve. “Hydra?” He cleared his throat, living the room. “Probably.”

 Steve went to the little cluttered kitchen and he opened a fridge, pulling out a bottle of water. He reentered the room and unscrewed the bottle.

“We need to keep him hydrated” he mumbled, getting on his knees next to the sofa.

Emily took the bottle and slowly lifted Bucky’s head up. Then she carefully helped him to take a simple sip, then another and another.

“What’re we going to do now, Cap?” she asked, her long red hair has fallen on her face.

“I don’t know… I don’t know…” he sighed sadly, rubbing over his temples. “But it seems we are not safe also. If they had attacked their OWN SOLDIER, it means they won’t have any problems to try to kill us either” he shrugged slightly.

Emily nodded in silence, still stroking Bucky’s palm.

“I knew.. From the very beginning.. That it will end like this. I hadn’t any other choice, Steve” she whispered and her voice turned into little weeping. “I had to join them… I HAD TO..”

Steve got up from the floor, putting hands at her shoulders.

“No one of us had” man muttered.

Two days had passed very quickly.

It was a really rough time for Steve and Emily, because they had to look after Bucky and look for a safe hiding place at the same time.

Emily was spending her time with former assassin while Steve was looking for a good place and transport.

And he managed to found something.

From the outside this house looked old, but wonderful. It has been built with cypress wood and has walnut wood decorations. Small, squared windows have been added to the house in a mostly asymmetric way. The house was equipped with a large kitchen and one bathroom, it also had a comfortable living room, two bedrooms, a small dining area and a roomy garage. The building was square shaped. The house was fully surrounded by overgrown wooden overhanging panels. The second floor was smaller than the first, which, in combination with its placement, creates an original look. The roof was high and slanted to one side and is covered with black roof tiles. A few large windows let in just enough light to the rooms below the roof. The house itself was surrounded by a modest garden, with mostly grass and a few small trees. It was a perfect place to stay for a while until Bucky’s wounds will be healed, and Steve’s too.

Emily was slowly getting ready to take a bath.

Looking at her pale, slim body covered with a shirt and fitted leggins, she felt a mix of sadness and distaste. She hated herself for things she had done to people. “I hate you” she whispered toward her reflection in the mirror. “I want you to die, tæve.”

Suddenly she heard the door being opened and shut quickly. Her heart beat faster as she could hear steps crossing the corner. She wanted it for so long… And she couldn’t deny it. Since the day she helped him with his wounds, she was craving him. So badly.

As she finally saw Steve’s smirking face, she let out a loud gasp. “You shouldn’t be in h..” “Shut up” he interrupted her by pushing her against the wall and locking his lips with hers. He could feel her resist at first, but he used his tongue to open Emily’s lips which was when she gave in and kissed him back. They were kissing each other hard now as his hand squeezed her boobs hard. After some time, he finally let her breathe. Still gasping for air, she stuttered. “W-what are you doing?.. What are WE doing, Steve..” He grinned at her and gave her a soft kiss while taking off her leggins. “Taking what’s mine, baby.” He slipped her shirt over her head and threw it on aside, where it’s quickly been joined by his own shirt. She was still leaning against the wall, still a little hesitant but definitely turned on as Steve can tell from her glowing cheeks and her rushing eyes. “Steve…” she bit her lower lip, looking hardly into his eyes.

She good knew it was one of the moments, when he wasn’t himself at all. Now he was Captain Hydra, not kind and polite Steve Rogers. Sometimes it was just like this, that he was loosing his personality for several minutes or a bit longer. And he was turning into a mess. She hated such moments, but she had to deal with it. And now, with that thick sexual tension in between them, she wasn’t even about to complain. Because she wanted him. She wanted Steve to fuck her senseless until she would be begging him to stop. She simply needed that. He grabbed her hand and guided it down his abs into his boxers. As she felt his hard cock, she let out a loud gasp and pull hand back quickly, but immediately regaining her confidence, she slided hand down again and firmly grab his cock. She noticed just now that he had undone her bra while he began to tease her hard nipples with his warm tongue, circling around and flicking against them. She began to stroke his cock slowly, as she looked into his eyes, mumbling. “We should stop, what if HE come in here?” He laughed quietly, quickly shove his hand into her lacy panties and thrust two fingers into her already soaking wet pussy. As she started to moan loudly, Steve immediately covered her mouth with his other hand and whispered into her ear. “Can you shut the fuck up now, baby? Unless you want Bucky to catch us now.”

He slipped Emily’s leggins off and turned her around, pushing her front against the cold tiles before slapping her ass and rubbing her wet pussy from behind. Steve saw that she was dripping down her leg, so he kneeled down behind her and start kissing his way up her inner thighs, licking up every single drop on the way. Having reached the top, he circled his tongue around the outline of her little pussy, causing even more wetness. Steve could feel Emily’s body shivered as he started eating her out. He digged his tongue deep into her and moved it up and down slowly but firmly. Simultaneously, his thumb rubbed across her clit, as he heard multiple soft moans escaping her mouth. “Steve, I’m gonna cum.. she moaned. He stopped licking immediately and came back up to her face. “No. You’re gonna cum when I want you to, understand?” She suddenly looked worried. “He must be wondering where I Am.” Steve slapped her ass and shoved her against the wall hard. “You should be worrying about me, nothing else. I’m gonna fuck you now and you’re gonna be a good girl.”

He took off his pants and threw them into the corner. As Emily took his cock into her hand and started to get on her knees, he grabbed her by the neck and pulled her back up, holding her face right in front of his. “None of this bullshit, baby.” He pushed her into the corner between the cold tile wall and a sink and lifted up one of her legs. Steve stood in front of her and quickly pushed his hard cock into her dripping pussy without wasting any time. Emily’s arms locked around his back and as he started thrusting himself into her, her nails digged into his butt, causing him to thrust even faster. As a loud moan tried to escape her mouth again, Captain quickly suffocated it by kissing her hard. He could feel her body losing control with every increase of pace. All her sense was his scent, his sweaty, muscular body pushing against hers, his throbbing cock pounding and stretching her tight little pussy, hitting her inner walls. Steve covered her mouth once more as her moans turned into screams. He felt her body shivered, then clenched hard around his cock for a second before shaking uncontrollably again as she bit one of his fingers that was covering her mouth. Steve pulled out his hard cock and once again Emily tried to get on her knees to make him cum with her mouth but she almost fell over, still having very little control of her own body. He grabbed her quickly and picked her up. “Did I say we’re done?” She looked a little scared as she saw the burning hunger in Steve’s eyes. He grabbed her hair and pulled her to the sink, bending her over the counter. He slapped her butt hard, before he shoved his thick cock into her again from behind. This time was much quicker. Steve immediately started to pounding as hard as he only could, while pulling her head up by her hair so she could see him fucking her in the mirror. After roughly several seconds, he felt the familiar shivering and clenching, this time causing him to cum inside her pumping pussy as well. “FUCK, STEVE!” she couldn’t hold it any longer and screamed Steve’s name loudly, not caring if Bucky will hear it. Steve waited till he felt that every drop of his cum has been shot into her, then he pulled out his cock. He turned her around, kissed her hard one last time and smiled. “Good, baby. Now I know what Bucky meant telling me you’re the rapture” blonde man rushed to put his clothes back on, then he simply left the bathroom, fastening his belt, leaving Emily shaking and naked. Trembling all over her sweaty body, she looked after him, then she quickly closed the door to bathroom and got under the shower. She felt his semen dripping down her thighs. Emily allowed the cold water to stimulate her mind and body, pulling her out of the blissful lethargy after a fulfillment in arms of Captain Rogers.

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.

The chronicles of the winter || Part XII - The End

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

Word Count: 13559

Warnings: none 

Author: Beast

Habit and impulse were so easy to fall back on, thinking being a costly and dangerous liability. The Asset had learned that early on, it having been forced into his program, carved into his skin among the patchwork of scars so it became a part of him. This time, however, this time it was different. This time when he woke up on that familiar cold table, seeing white-coated techs hovering over him and his wounds like vultures, he didn't feel the programming trying to lull him into docility. Oh no, this time a latent instinct, old and raw and powerful, bubbled through the cracks in HYDRA's conditioning and screamed in his subconscious, spurring him to act.

Fight.

Find.

Protect.

A snarl worthy of a predator tore its way out of his throat as he shoved the nearest tech away, the force of it throwing him clear into the opposite wall. The rest of them scattered like insects, shouting in varied languages as he pulled himself into a sitting position, glaring at them from behind the mess of his hair. A half-dozen IVs were laced into his veins, a likely but ultimately unsuccessful attempt to keep him asleep. The stiffness along his shoulder told him they had likely closed the sniper's wound, and he quickly realized his dislocated joint had been pushed back into place and immobilized with thick medical tape. They'd replaced his blood-soaked shirt with a dark grey one, and as if to mock him, it bore the SHIELD logo embossed in shiny blue thread over his heart.

"где." The soldier demanded, forcing himself to his feet, the drip-lines tugged free of his arms. The HYDRA agents and techs skittered in panic, yowling like panicked animals in a hunter's trap. When he didn't get a response did he bark the word out again, this time in English. "Where." If he wasn't told, he wouldn't hesitate to tear the place to shreds to find out. Before any of the cowardly technicians could answer, however, several HYDRA agents in full combat gear poured into the room, armed to the teeth.

One moved too close, holding a syringe, and the assassin lunged without hesitation. His metal arm felt sluggish and heavy, having been in the middle of being repaired when he woke, but that didn't hinder his deadliness any as he swung with all the force he could muster at the man's jaw. A grim sort of smirk appeared on his features, feeling bone crack and give under his fist, the soldier dropping into a crumpled heap at his feet. He crushed the dropped syringe under his boot, the sound of the glass shattering morbidly satisfying.

Something was shouted in a language he couldn't catch, but he didn't give the soldiers the luxury of time to coordinate themselves. A scalpel, lifted from the near table that held the medical supplies, in his capable hands slit the throat of one of the agents before he even realized what had happened, the bleeding man roughly kicked away into another soldier. Another's throat was caught in his metal fingers when he went to prod him with a stunstick, the vertebra crunching loudly with a single squeeze. The body was casually tossed aside, a mere afterthought. Chaos erupted, which was exactly what the Asset had wanted, as he was able to easily dispatch agent after agent, until in the confusion he was able to slip out into the hall. He slammed the door shut behind him, bending the metal frame enough that the soldiers inside weren't getting out anytime soon.

Alarms began to blare, and he knew he didn't have much time. He needed to find where they were keeping Steve, needed to find out if he was alive, needed to get him out. The layout of the building was familiar, and he soon found himself tracing mental maps that he couldn't consciously remember. Identical doors in identical halls, yet somehow he knew the way, ending up in a neglected corner of whatever backwater HYDRA base this was. Detention level. He knew these rooms all too well. Broken memories of conditioning, of training and discipline flashed through his mind. It was enough to sour his stomach.

Only one of the rooms had light filtering through the dingy door window, and he just knew that had to be where they were keeping Steve. The door was thick steel, reinforced and heavy and bolted with more locks than he cared to count. It could have been made of vibranium and it wouldn't have been enough to keep him out. The Asset tore through the locks he could, picking the others he couldn't, using every skill in his considerable arsenal but his patience only lasted so long. Normally he could wait for days, one of a sniper's greatest attributes, but this was Steve and he needed inside now.

The sound of metal rending and groaning filled the level, the soldier slamming his metallic fist into the door over and over, bending and deforming the surface bit by bit. The servos and artificial tendons in his arm screamed in protest but he scarcely cared, eventually making a dent deep enough he could get his fingers inside the stop. He braced himself and pulled with all his weight, the fatigued and aged metal shredding in his hand. That just fed his ambition, and soon enough he was tearing through the door with both hands, unfeeling to the shards that sliced through his flesh and bone hand, and to the hot slickness of blood as it poured from his palm.

Desperation was beginning to claw at his mind. He knew agents would find out where he was soon enough, and he couldn't let them take him away. Not before he knew if Steve was still alive. Standing back, the assassin kicked the door with every ounce of strength he had. The metal gave way with a great resounding shudder, the hinges failing and door swinging open violently. He was inside before the door even had the chance to hit the wall when it swung wide.

Relief isn't anywhere near strong enough a word to convey the emotion the soldier felt when he saw Steve, battered and broken and still as he was, breathing and alive. At his side in an instant, the assassin assessed the Captain's condition and wounds within moments. The man was unconscious, the worst of his wounds hidden under layers and layers of pink-tinged gauze. Smaller injuries had been ignored, his skin was pallor and in some distant part of his mind the soldier recognized this. Recognized a tiny kid with a rattling cough and pale skin who always scared him half to death with the fact that he might not make it through winter.

Medical supplies still covered the table to the side of the cot he was placed on, and without a second thought or any concern for being captured, the former Soviet started to pick through the contents. He wrapped a quick bandage around the cuts to his hand to stem the bleeding, not wanting to risk getting it on Steve when who knew what had been pumped into his system. Clean gauze was soaked in disinfectant, the excess wrung out before it was pressed to a shallow cut that burned an angry red across the Captain's cheek. The serum had already begun healing his body, the wound already mostly closed, but for some reason he found himself fussing over it regardless.

The soldier hadn't patched anyone up save himself for decades. He remembered, very dimly, bandaging someone with crimson hair that glowed like a dying fire, but the memory was so hazy and distorted that it might as well have been a dream. He was used to sewing himself up, to prying bullets out of his body and mending jagged pieces of flesh back together. As a result, delicateness was not something he was intimately familiar with, yet it seemed his body remembered better than his brain, as he cleaned the man's wounds with an unfamiliar tender gentleness.

A crackle of memory fizzled in his mind, of him sitting in a muddy, snow-filled trench, tearing a scarf free of his neck and brandishing it as if to threaten some other person. He dimly recalled blood, from a wound of some kind to the arm of someone dressed in blue, and angrily muttering something about not signing up to be a mother as he wrapped his scarf around the limb. He remembered laughter from people he didn't know, or couldn't remember, and being called a jerk. The memory faded as quickly as it appeared, and within a second of its passing it was all but forgotten in favor of focusing on the task at hand.

"Well, seems like the dosage of sedative we gave you was a bit off." A calm voice suddenly broke the silence, the assassin's muscles seizing up in remembered fear as familiarity crashed over him like a wave. He didn't move for a long moment, bloody fingers hovering over another cut to the Avenger's chin, as if his stillness could be taken as a sign of submission.

There was an amused hum from behind him, one that faded into a dark, twisted sort of laugh. "At attention, воин." The order was issued sternly, and the soldier found himself turning around to face the man, posture stiff with unease and the beginnings of fear. The man, he knew him, the name Aiden provided by the bits of memory that survived each successive wipe. A crooked grin spread across the General's face and it caused the Asset's stomach to churn.

"They warned me that you were far more… damaged than we would have liked." Black spoke with all the casualness as if they were merely speaking about the weather, "It would have been easier just to put you down, but since we have Captain America in addition to our Winter Soldier…" he trailed off, malevolent smile spreading further across his face as he approached with a proud air to his movements. Once he was close enough, the suited man regarded him with all the affection one might have for a fine weapon, eyes appraising but cold and calculating, seeking only value.

"Why, I think what's left of SHIELD would do just about anything to get their hands on him, and you as well. Oh, the secrets they think you have… they'd do anything to wring them out of you, воин, but I'm never going to let that happen, don't you worry." The acidic sweetness to his voice made the soldier's blood run as cold as the river that haunted his nightmares. It was a tone all too familiar, yet for what felt like lifetimes that tone had been the closest semblance to kindness he'd ever experienced, and he'd latched onto it desperately. Now it made him sick.

Aiden brushed past him, leaning over the cot to look at the Captain's wounds. One of his hands reached out, and the soldier let out a growl that faded into a whine at the glare he received. The man's hand remained raised with a hint of threatening intent, and the assassin felt his muscles tense in the expectation of a blow. His programming might have degraded greatly due to being so long out of cryostasis, but enough of the framework was intact for him to not attack the man or outwardly resist his commands. He could only watch as he withdrew his hand, walking back towards the shattered door, his back to him.

"I see you have some… attachment to the Captain." The General's tone held the slightest hint of bitterness, something he knew was very dangerous, "That will not be tolerated. However…" his voice went quiet, that knowing smirk once again firmly planted on his features as he spun on his heel to face the soldier, "If you cooperate and let us fix all that damage Captain Rogers and his SHIELD allies have done to your mind, we might let him live. If you don't have any more of those outbursts, we might even let you see him." It was a ruse, he knew it for sure, but he had no choice but to nod in silent agreement. Arguing would signal that HYDRA's control had faltered dangerously, and he couldn't risk Steve's safety. For the first time in his memory, he found himself putting the well-being of another before his own.

"Good, good. In that case I expect you to return to medical immediately and let the doctors finish up their work. We need you in working order as soon as possible. I expect an update on your condition in three hours." With that, Aiden Black left the room. The soldier's hearing could pick up on the sound of footsteps running down the hall to retrieve him, likely signaled by the General, and he only had a few seconds. He couldn't run, couldn't try to fight or escape, as that would get Steve killed and he couldn't bring himself to even consider that possibility.

He'd have to play this game, even fall back under HYDRA's command if it meant keeping the other man alive. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make. The soldiers crowded the room a half-second later, surrounding him and shepherding him out and away from the room, away from Steve. One of them fit the muzzle-mask over his face, and with its acquainted confines the soldier felt a foreign sense of revulsion budding in his chest. The familiarity of it all, and the horror that he found himself so easily slipping back into the mannerisms and routine, made the new fear that he might lose what little fragments of himself he'd managed to gain back seem very, very real.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The soft, rhythmic pattern of water drops pulled Steve out of the fog of unconsciousness, cutting through the static that seemed to fill his mind. He didn't feel any pain, not yet, but he felt heavy and weak and so very tired. Stagnant, stale air coated his throat, thick with a sharp, sanitized scent that settled on his tongue with a faintly bitter, familiar taste. The air itself felt dense, as if he was breathing through cotton shoved down his throat; if he hadn't known better, he would have thought he was having an asthma attack. There was a rattling, ghastly wheeze every handful of seconds in addition to the dripping that had woken him, and it took a long, sobering moment before he realized that he was hearing his own breathing.

Drip.

Drip.

His torso felt constricted, tight and immobile under what felt like a cocoon of gauze and medical tape. As uncomfortable as it was it assured him that his wounds had been tended to, but by whom the Captain had no idea. An experimental twitch of his fingers assured him that he wasn't paralyzed and could move, however difficult it may have been. Everything felt fuzzy, it was the only way to describe it, unable to feel or hear anything clearly. Everything was blurred into a mess of muffled noises and sweeping sensations, nothing distinct.

Drip.

A slight shift of his head told him just how stiff and sore his neck was. How long was I out? The thought struck him suddenly, followed immediately by the cold electricity of fear. Where am I? His eyes were forced open, but shut immediately due to the blinding light of the room. Steve groaned and squeezed his eyes shut tighter, tilting his head trying to block out every bit of that painful brightness. The movement made him aware that his head was propped up slightly, a pillow tucked behind it. It reminded him of when he'd have respiratory infections in winter and Bucky would give him all the pillows to keep his head and shoulders lifted so he could breathe easier—

Bucky. Emily.

The panic that gripped him was all-consuming, shredding through the muddled fog in his mind like iron claws. "B-Buck… Em..." the words barely left his throat, voice hoarse and rasping and lungs suddenly alight with crackling fire at the effort. The words brought the taste of copper to his lips, blood he was sure, but he scarcely cared. "B… Bucky! Emily!" His eyes shot open again, ignoring the pain of the light and he looked frantically for any sign of the soldier. Everything came crashing back in a tangle of bloody memories—the fight, the sniper, Bucky collapsing in front of him, felled by the commander—and in horror he realized they had been captured. His own pain was ignored as he tried to push himself up, the room spinning as he did so, his own weakness now undeniably apparent.

A strong, cold hand gripped his shoulder, pushing him back down onto the cot before he could even think of trying to search. Moments later a figure moved into his vision, leaning over him with a face obscured by a curtain of dark, unruly hair. He heard a hushed word of Russian, tone soft, reassuring in its sound although he didn't understand it. The Captain's vision was too blurry to see many details, but then again, he didn't need any details to recognize him.

A dozen words tried to spill out of him at once—you're alright, you're here, I was so scared for you, Buck, where's Em — but nothing left him save a wheezy exhale as he smiled in relief. He wanted to stand, to make sure Bucky was alright, to tend to any wounds he had, but he was all too aware that he couldn't do a damned thing in this state. Bucky was here and in the end that was the most important thing. Everything else could be confronted and dealt with later.

Without another thought Steve had raised his left arm, hesitantly brushing a few stray strands of hair out of the way before cupping his cheek. He wanted to make sure he was really there, that this wasn't some horrible HYDRA trick, that it wasn't the blood loss and whatever medicines he was full of making him see things. Bucky's skin was cold, rough against his fingers, but very much alive and very much real. He didn't even try to stop his smile from spreading a bit when he saw how the soldier leaned into the touch a bit instead of shying away or swatting at his hand.

"… about time you woke up." Bucky's voice was quiet and scratchy, just the barest hint of a Brooklyn accent shining through as he moved away, turning to look at what Steve guessed was the door. He let his hand fall back to his side, cringing a bit when he felt a tug at the crook of his arm. IV line; must have been what the dripping was. He tried to ask how long he'd been out but only managed to cough, tacky blood rattling in his aching lungs. The soldier glanced down to him at the sound, but quickly went back to his vigil.

"Three days" of course he'd have been able to know what he was trying to say, they'd been able to finish each other sentences in the past, "you were hurt bad, Steve, real bad. Still hurt bad, but I won't let them touch you." His voice trailed off, words carrying an edge as sharp as any blade, but also the barest hint of sadness. It was the most Bucky had spoken to him since he found him sleeping seemingly lifetimes ago, and in some distant part of the Captain his soul practically sung. He sounded more like Bucky, more like the cocky jerk he'd grown up with in Brooklyn than he ever had since he'd become the Winter Soldier. A second later just what he had said sunk in, and his optimism wavered.

"… w-who?" the Avenger just barely croaked it out, a sense of dread sitting heavy in his heart. He knew who had captured them, knew where they were, but maybe he could deny it all away. After all, Bucky was here with him, right? They would have separated them for sure...

"HYDRA." The name was spat out, deadly venom saturating his voice. Steve's blood ran cold in his veins, the room falling silent with only the constant drip drip of the isotonic IV bag keeping time between them with its ceaseless rhythm. That little bit of hope that he had been clinging to wavered, knowing just how bad a situation they were in, but it didn't go out. Emily and Sam were still out there, and he knew they wouldn't give up on him. They'd find them, somehow; Emily was clever and resourceful, she'd pick up the trail and find them, and Sam was loyal and wouldn't stop until he was found.

His lungs hurt too much to try and continue the conversation, and as his eyes adjusted he tried to make sense of his surroundings. The measly cot he was lying on was pushed against a stone wall that just seemed to exude a wet chill, meaning they were likely somewhere underground. Light buzzed blearily from a thin fluorescent fixture in the ceiling, a pitchy and irritating hum occasionally creeping over the drip drop of the IV. The walls were dingy and ill-kempt, but a glance to the door surprised him. Door was a loose term as it looked like it had been holding back a tiger, shattered glass and broken old steel littering the floor, but the door itself was made of new shiny metal. Judging from the debris, the damaged door he was currently looking at was a replacement and the first one made up the scraps on the floor. It took a few seconds before Steve realized it wasn't from Bucky attempting to break out, but from him breaking in.

That realization made his chest tighten, breath hitching slightly as he tried to breathe around the lump that built in his throat. His last hazy moments of consciousness in that alleyway, of Bucky crouched in front of him teary-eyed with gentling hands pressed to his wounds, he'd thought he had dreamed them. Thought that in his pained delirium he'd imagined hearing the soldier's meek voice saying "I'm not leaving you behind". Thought that maybe he'd mistaken seeing Bucky breaking through for those precious few minutes, and it looks like he just might have. He'd clearly torn his way out of wherever HYDRA had tried to lock him up, but instead of making an escape, he found him and broke in and stayed right by his side.

"Y-you… stayed with m-me…" Steve's voice was hardly above a raspy whisper, vision distorting as tears welled up. He wasn't sure if it was the pain or medicine or just a moment of vulnerability that brought them out, but he didn't make any attempts to hide them. Bucky protected me. He'd fought to keep HYDRA away from him instead of saving himself. Even if Buck didn't remember much of his past he had still fought to keep him safe like all those years ago. The Avenger breathed heavily, choking on his own words as he tried to say too many things at once. He knew this man wasn't the Bucky he knew so well from his past, but he was bits and pieces of him and he wasn't going to stop helping him even if the suave jerk he had spent his life with never really came back.

"Quit that" Bucky's voice was gruff, but the fingers that hesitantly ruffled his hair a moment later were gentle and familiar. "You're gonna tear that lung again if you keep talking. Get some more sleep, I'll be here when you wake up." It wasn't a command from the Winter Soldier, it was spoken too softly for that, instead it sounded more like back in their apartment in the old days, when Bucky would try to wrangle him to bed when he was sick and not cooperating. He couldn't count how many times Buck had just picked up all coughing hundred and ten pounds of him and put him to bed under every moth-eaten blanket they owned, no matter how much Steve protested. He never admitted it to him, but after his mom had died, Bucky's sometimes over-protective mollycoddling had meant the world to him. “Buck... Where's Emily?” suddenly Steve blinked, narrowing his eyebrows. “Where's she?”

Winter Soldier let out a quiet sigh, turning his eyesight away.

“Buck...” Steve felt like his heart stopped within second. “I have to know.” “She's probably dead” Bucky shrughed slightly, without a shadow of emotions on his face. “I haven't heard from her since many days.”

Bucky continued to run his fingers through Steve's hair, something he'd done countless times when the artist had been sick and confined to Buck's bed. The radiator in Steve's old room had always had piss-poor timing when it came to breaking, so whenever he had shown the slightest sign of illness Buck had surrendered his much-warmer room and they both slept curled up on that ratty old bed to try and keep warm. He wasn't sure if Bucky remembered any of that or if he was just acting on instinct or something else, but just like it had back then in their apartment, it put the Captain to sleep in only a few minutes.

With him lulled back into sleep so quickly, he hadn't had the time to notice that Bucky was dressed back into his combat gear, or see the troubled, guilty expression that he wore. Bucky hadn't wanted him to see either.

The passing of days no longer registered, the only timestamps he recalled being changes in the Captain's condition. Some days he was awake when he was bidden time to spend in the cell, most times he was unconscious or in a restorative sleep as the serum tried to patch his body back together. The tainted, imperfect serum that flowed in his own veins was doing much the same, skin and bones mending beneath his clothing. It burned with a throbbing sort of heat and sometimes hours passed as he passively observed the healing, watching his own flesh knitting back together until only scars remained.

His body was healthier, the Asset noticed dimly, his new handlers eager to get him back to working conditions as soon as possible. The constant IV drips, the strange injections, the foodstuffs he was prodded to eat, they'd all filled him out so he didn't look quite so emaciated. He halfheartedly guessed that the serum had busied itself rebuilding his muscles with the amble nutrients he was getting as much as it was healing his wounds.

With his shoulder healing up, the white-coated techs had taken to repairing the extensive damage to his prosthetic. It now moved fluidly, easily, the burn that gnashed its teeth into his artificial nerves now abated and calmed. The plates had been smoothed and repaired, the blood and grime cleaned away, although the red star he had tried to scratch off with his own fingernails and anything within reach those first few weeks remained marred and damaged. The techs didn't try to reapply it; now that he was no longer tied to the Red Room and the Soviets, they had no need to flaunt their emblem.

He knew it was only a matter of time before they'd try to deploy him, to test his programing, but he knew it was mostly due to their eagerness to try and patch the damage that had been caused by the exposing of SHIELD as HYDRA. Pierce was dead, but the saying still held true; cut off one head, two more will take its place. Aiden Black was not the new leader, but he had fallen in as his new handler, and that bit of his programming was still sound enough to prevent him from refusing orders from the man.

Today, however, he'd been granted time with the Captain after preforming well in training. He knew that Black wanted to wipe him, to rebuild the programming and perhaps even try the same with the healing Captain, but he knew that the man couldn't. This facility lacked the proper equipment to carry out that procedure safely, or to rewrite and build the programming back into his mind. It was likely why they were even letting him see the other man. It was a way to keep him under control, giving him time with him like a dog being trained and rewarded with scraps. He ought to have been offended but honestly he didn't care; any time with Steve was worth whatever hell they put him through.

His earlier thoughts were all pushed aside as soon as he entered the room they were keeping Steve in. The soldiers always left them alone, Black convinced in his control over the Asset, and he preferred it this way. He knew he was always under surveillance, but the illusion of peace he had with the Captain was enough. Despite his few hours of reprieve here he never allowed his guard to lower, never spoke out of turn or gave any indication that the programming had slipped. He couldn't allow that knowledge to fall into Black's hands. He could find some way to wipe him clean and order him to kill the man he'd fought so hard to defend. The thought alone made his breathing falter.

"… Bucky?" blinking, his focus was pulled back to the present, to the Captain laid out on the cot. The Asset straightened himself, shoved down all his disjointed thoughts, padded over to the bedside to look down at him. He might have the perfected serum but he had been wounded horrifically; he was still all but bedridden with the injuries he'd sustained. He was half convinced the only reason he survived at all was because the Captain was just too damn stubborn to die. Dim memories of back alley fights, bright blond hair matted with blood and halfhearted smiles mired by bruising and dirt flitted across his mind for a brief moment.

The Asset didn't reply with words, merely humming in response as he sat down in the empty chair next to the cot. Some distant part of him was glad to see that Steve was awake and aware, as the last few visits he'd been groggy and barely able to speak, mumbling in a drug and pain-induced haze about things the Soldier didn't remember. It was stressful, but he would rather spend his time here, questioned over things he didn't understand or know, than be primed and molded to fall back into HYDRA's command.

"… you're in gear." Steve's voice was quiet, but he could still hear the apprehension and resignation in his tone. It bothered the Asset greatly. Black had hinted at possibly sending him out on some sort of simple assignment so he'd dressed himself in his heavy Kevlar vest and armor, hiding his healing wounds and returning build. The less Steve knew about how long he'd been trapped here the better. The last thing he needed was him hatching some idiotic scheme to escape that would get him killed.

"… d'you get your orders?" the words came out of his mouth slurred and soft, his mind obviously still a bit hazed from whatever drugs they had to have pumped him full of to keep him manageable. It set the Soldier's teeth on edge, the thought of them doing something like that to Steve, but he couldn't protest or else run the risk of being separated fully. The statement did, however, fire some distant, disjointed memory. He could almost smell the musty air of some damp alleyway, blood in the mouth of his friend as he spoke and looked at him in a strange mix of admiration and sadness. It made his heart ache in a way he wasn't familiar with, even without any further context to bolster it.

"… yeah, Steve." His voice was still rough with disuse, awkward and stiff and lacking in the emotion Steve held when he talked. The last time he'd been here the other man had panicked, remembering their capture, tried to fight his way free of the web of IV line that held him. At least this way, with him lost in his own sleepy awareness, he was easy to convince all was well although every lie he told tasted bitter on his tongue.

"Be careful, Buck." Steve mumbled a bit when the Asset stood and began to pick at his wound wrappings, drawing his eyes from his work to meet his. They were hazy from pain and sleep, greyed and sick looking in a way that made the Soldier's stomach knot up. He swallowed thickly and focused on checking all of Steve's wounds, not trusting any of the HYDRA medics or their work. Most of his wounds had closed, the deepest pink with new-grown scar tissue and the lesser wounds already silvered and faded into his skin.

"I will." The response was automatic, not looking away from his task now. He was replacing the packing in Steve's side, where the sniper round had ripped his chest cavity open. Even the serum was having trouble with the wound, and if it hadn't been for that (and his damn fool stubbornness) he surely would have bled out right there in the street.

Steve made a noise halfway between a whimper and groan when he started to pull the bloodied, coagulated mess of packing out of the wound, obviously feeling it even through the fog of painkillers. He squirmed enough to make his task difficult, but at the same time it lifted his spirits somewhat. His strength was coming back, slowly, but it was a good sign. His body was starting to heal enough for his system to begin filtering the medicines in his body more efficiently; a hazy memory bubbled up of Steve complaining about Morita's morphine shot not taking the edge off a bullet wound he'd gotten in the calf. This had to be a good sign. It just had to be.

The wound still looked horrific, and he knew he couldn't chance an escape with Steve in this state. The ragged tear was having trouble healing over due to just how much tissue loss and damage he'd sustained, despite the serum flowing in his veins. Even with Steve still moving around he was able to place more sterile packing into the wound and wrap it tight with gauze and medical tape, after treating it with a potent antibacterial wash that he made sure to carry on his person at all times. That hadn't been fun. Steve had gasped hoarsely and it'd hurt him to hear, but it needed to be done. He still didn't trust these HYDRA doctors to treat the wounds correctly, even though he had little formal medical training himself. It didn't matter in his mind; his body and muscle memory knew Steve and how to treat him better than anyone else and like hell he was going to just sit passively by and let someone who didn't know the first thing about Steve Rogers try to patch his wounds.

With his work finished and Black no doubt waiting on him, the Soldier knew he had to cut his visit short. The man had mentioned something about a cleanup mission, to take care of some SHIELD holdouts that had grouped up near where he and Steve had been picked up. It would be a quick and clean mission. They'd likely pair him with the surviving members of the Strike unit to keep him under observation, but he could easily use their fear of him to make them keep their distance. He had a feeling these 'SHIELD holdouts' might be whoever Steve had alerted the night they were captured. If that was the case this mission was going to go very poorly.

"I'm leaving, don't get into any trouble while I'm gone." The Soldier mumbled a bit, not wanting to leave but knowing he couldn't stay. He gently smoothed down Steve's unruly hair with his right hand, always the right, something he felt like he'd done countless times a hundred lifetimes ago. When he was around the other man it felt like he went on autopilot, doing things he had no clear conscious memory of ever knowing how to do, yet with the ease and familiarity as if he'd been doing them all his life. He knew how to calm him down, how he liked his pillows just so, how he had an awful habit of kicking the blankets off in his sleep, things he had no business knowing yet he did.

"No promises, Buck." Steve breathed out heavily, eyes already half-lidded with drowsy exhaustion but with a crooked grin on his face. The Soldier felt a near overwhelming urge to roll his eyes and swat his shoulder but he held back, knowing he was still badly wounded and not wanting any sign of playfulness to be seen by the cameras. He merely brushed a few dirty blond strands of hair out of Steve's face instead, hiding the action by pretending to hold his palm there to check his temperature. It was a poor ruse, with his fingers lingering a moment too long, body too loose with the feeling of safety, but he didn't think it would be caught.

This mission had him nervous. It sat low in his stomach like a weight of molten lead, burning and heavy and disorienting. It felt familiar in some distant way; he remembered feeling it before, while sitting in the snow at the edge of some high cliff, the snow kept off him with a shield held above his head by the man he was leaning heavily against for warmth. The memory was pushed down as he closed the door behind him, lock clicking softly at his back before he allowed himself to be pushed by the decayed programming to report to the command center. The sooner he completed his assignment the sooner he could return to Steve's side, and that was the only thought that kept his body in motion.

"Have you heard anything back from Jarvis, Stark? We've got to narrow down our search parameters."

The past few weeks had been complete and utter hell. Without SHIELD, running a rescue mission for one Steven Grant Rogers and one possibly-hostile Winter Soldier had been, to put it mildly, completely fucking exhausting. But, this was hardly enough to make Emily Vandom crack. She'd done more with less resources and less time, and this time she had friends to help her. She poured herself another mug of coffee, glancing over to Stark tapping away at one of his fancy tablets and to Wilson and his makeshift workstation on the floor with his wingpack.

After last time when they got separated, Emily didn't know what to do and how to help Bucky and Steve, so she did the last thing that remained – she had to contact with Sam Wilson, who was (as she knew) a closest friend of Steve.

Sam, although she had known him not too long, had slotted himself into the ragtag group as easily as clockwork, as if he'd been crafted to be a part of their unit. For the first week he'd housed both herself and Barton, who'd come as soon as Emily had filled him in on the situation. It was reassuring having her partner in crime back at her side. Stark, for all his crassness and bluster, had dropped everything when she informed him of Steve's capture. As difficult as he was to work with some days, he really could be an invaluable ally as long as he kept himself occupied.

"Jarvis is going as fast as he can but there's a lot of data to go through," Tony's voice was heavy with lost sleep, as if the dark patches under his eyes and the hot coffee mug held tight in his hand weren't enough of a giveaway, "HYDRA's hiding themselves pretty well, or what's left of it anyway. They're probably disguising their shipments and covering their tracks more than usual. I doubt they'd take them out of the city yet, it'd draw too much attention, but, it is HYDRA so who knows."

Tony must have repeated that a hundred times in a hundred different ways, and she knew that the tension was getting to them all, but it didn't make her any less anxious. They'd moved into Steve's apartment and the empty next door apartment after contacting Sharon, who provided her keys to the locks which had yet to be changed. She was doing what she could to aid in the search, but with her new job in the FBI and Emily still in hot political water, she didn't want to add any fuel to that fire with her presence. If word got lose in the government that Captain America had been captured while housing the Winter Soldier, well, the repercussions were something none of them wanted to deal with.

"I'm going up to check the perimeter with Clint. Let me know if you find anything, and while Jarvis works maybe you could give Sam a hand." Sitting idle and waiting just wasn't in her nature. Sam was working on his damaged wingpack, which Tony had started to repair but had to drop to prep Jarvis for the scan of the city's information apparatus. They'd need Sam's help once the AI located whatever HYDRA hellhole Steve and the Winter Soldier had been taken to. Even though Steve seemed to trust him, there was still a wary part of her that couldn't dismiss the possibility that maybe the Winter Soldier had lead Steve into a trap, that he'd been a Trojan horse or some form of bait to lure him into HYDRA's clutches. It was a grim and farfetched possibility, but one that was all too real.

The cool air outside once she reached the roof was a welcome source of sobriety, washing away her muddled thoughts and letting her release her own tensions with a soft exhale. The last week had damn near run her ragged. To have something like this happen so soon after the fall of SHIELD, before she'd had a chance to really recover, was just not something she had ever expected to happen. She'd thought she would have had a bit more time before she'd have to pay her debt back to Steve for saving her life.

"Lower levels secure, how're things up here?" she sat down heavily near the archer, just in case he had his hearing aids turned down. He was perched on the corner of the building, goggled eyes on the building entrance and the surrounding streets. His bow was held in loose fingers, eyes never stopping their scan of the streets when he replied.

"Well, there's been an awful lot of owls around but no, haven't seen any HYDRA agents or anything unusual." Clint replied, voice a bit hoarse from not having spoken in several hours. Emily roughly shoved her half-empty coffee mug into his side, nudging him until he sighed loudly and took it with his free hand.

"You've been on watch for hours, take a few minutes." She knew he was as tense and eager to find the Captain, but with nothing to do but stand watch it had to be bothering him a good deal. "Stark has Jarvis checking shipping records and anything else we can think of to try and narrow down a few spots. We don't think they're out of the city. Sam's getting his wings ready and if we have some locales by the end of the night we can move out as early as the morning."

"Good." Clint mumbled through a mouthful of coffee, having nearly chugged the whole cup while Emily had been talking. "I've got Soviet cooties now but thanks for the coffee, 'Tasha." With an exasperated sigh Emily punched his side, which made him jump and the coffee mug to slip out of his hand and down to the street below with a muffled shattering of ceramic. "Aw, mug no."

Emily laughed, a true laugh, the kind that ended with her snorting into her sleeve. Maybe it was the tension of the night but it felt good to just laugh, and she heard Clint huff out a laugh as well. The last few days have weighed on her so much that it was nice to let off a little of the steam. She turned to make a witty comment but Clint frantically signed "quiet" at her, eyes locked down where the mug had fallen. She was up and looking over the ledge of the building in an instant, keeping low so she wouldn't be seen.

She heard him notch an arrow and draw, his breathing evening out the way it did when he aimed. She spotted in the street below within a few seconds; a shadow out of place, a brief flash of reflected light off of metal. Emily didn't hesitate to stop the archer, hand over his as he prepared to let the arrow fly, hissing out a breath between her teeth as she struggled to choose what to do. Downing him was likely the wisest option, but, if he was here, there was a chance Steve was too.

"Don't," she knew that Clint wouldn't, but speaking her thoughts couldn't hurt any, "This isn't right. If he was going to try and pick us off he would have while we were distracted. Something's going on." Clint kept his bow at half-pull, and she didn't blame him; she was cautious and untrusting herself, but as she watched the Winter Soldier looked right at them yet didn't duck behind cover. He just looked right at them.

"He could have agents all around the building we can't just sit here," he whispered harshly, pulling the bow to full-draw when the Soldier advanced until he was standing just a couple yards from the building. He was masked but lacked the goggles, dressed full in HYDRA gear with a rifle slung at his back, but hands empty.

"This isn't right, Clint." As if on cue, the Winter Soldier raised his hands, empty palms towards them. A show of submission. Emily bit her lip, not knowing what was going on in the man's head but knowing that this wasn't one of HYDRA's normal tactics. Either this was the man that had grown up with Steve or a twisted HYDRA trap, or something in-between. "… I'm going down there. Cover me."

"Emily you can't be..." she didn't give him the chance to try and talk her out of it, jumping onto the fire escape two floors down. It rattled so loud in the otherwise silent alleyway that she was sure HYDRA agents would be all over her, but seconds ticked by and there wasn't any movement, not even from the assassin in the street below. She was far from unarmed, with a pistol in her pockets, but she would never underestimate the Winter Soldier.

Being on the ground, mere feet away from the man that had shot her just a few months ago, is… tense, to say the least. Her shoulder aches. He looks different now in a way she can't really place; he's thinner than he was in her memories, eyes dark with lost sleep and weary in a way she never thought was possible from so menacing a man. He looked ragged and downtrodden and every bit as awful as Steve had described. Beneath the layers of caution and defensiveness, she admitted she felt a twinge of, pity was too strong a word but something like it, for her former mentor.

"What do you want, James." The words came out more bitter than she had intended, but then again maybe it was better to put up that façade. The man standing before her wasn't the same anymore, but hell, she changed also...

"Vitani." His voice was muffled under the muzzle-mask but that didn't diminish their effect. Vitani. Emily hadn't heard her old nickname in what felt like lifetimes. It told her that he remembered at least fragments of their past, much like her. "… I need your help." That definitely wasn't what she expected to hear him say next.

"My help?" Emily repeated the statement softly, "… Steve. How can I help?" she watched his eyes light up the dimmest bit. James slowly lowered his right hand, pulling something small and flat from his pocket. An arrow cut the tense air between them, embedding itself into the pavement a few inches from the man's foot; a clear, grim warning not to test his luck. It gave the Soldier pause before he completed his action, a small, scuffed moleskin sketchbook clutched in his hand.

"They have him." James's voice was rough and so tired, the book gently placed in her hands with his fingers lingering on her own for the briefest moment, "They think I'm on their leash still, Emily. Steve is hurt, I can't get him out on my own." His tone was almost pleading and it painfully twisted something up inside of her, "They sent me here to kill you all with the Strike team, you're not safe here any longer." Even without it being said, she knew that he had killed his own team to prevent them from hurting them.

"Where did they take him? Where are you based?" she got no clear answer, the Soldier merely tilting his head towards the thin sketchpad in her hands. When she opened the cover she realized there was a roughly drawn map, made of taken streets and turns that he must have taken to reach the building. It could lead them right to them.

"Emily, listen to me" his voice was suddenly soft, shot through with remorse, "they're trying to get me under control again. If they manage to, I need you to put me down. Steve won't be able to, and you're the only person I can trust to do it right. They might not even need to do it, I might try and hurt him if I'm not in my right mind. Please, I need you to promise." Without even seeing his reaction she knew her façade fell for the briefest of moments, blindsided by the request. She'd expected him to be hostile, to be defiant at the least, but not this.

She couldn't form the words but nodded, setting her jaw and straightening her back. The look of relief that filled his eyes was almost as heartbreaking as the whole damn situation. He started to turn but she stopped him, slipping a small object into his palm, curling his calloused fingers around it with her own hands. It was her necklace she used to wear everyday, in a shape of swan with outstretched wings. Seconds ticked by before he broke eye contact with her, looking down to his hand that she still held and then to the arrow by his boot.

"… thank you, моя любовь." She almost missed it, that softly mumbled bit of Russian that solidified in her mind that this was really James talking, and not the Winter Soldier.  She never thought she would ever hear that from him again. Emily gave his hand a gentle squeeze before she backed away, the Soldier doing the same, storing the thin metal object she had given him into one of his pockets.

"Be careful, James." Emily spoke softly, "… дорогой.." She watched him stiffen at the word, scanning her eyes for a long moment before he turned his head, breath exhaled loudly through the mask. She allowed her gaze to return to the roof, where Clint was still perched watchfully, another arrow at the ready. When she turned back to the Winter Soldier he was gone, just like the ghost he was. Her grip on the sketchbook tightened as resolve settled in. As it stood, HYDRA was holding two men from her, and they would soon come to regret that action.

His mind had always been too loud. Too loud, too busy, too full of things he had no context for. He could see them in bright flashes of vivid experience; the smell of a Brooklyn alley after a midnight rain, the feel of a stray cat's fur under his palm as it arched into his touch, the sound of a train's wheels far too close, he could remember small bits in crisp clarity but the whole picture was broken. He held the shattered pieces of a great mosaic with no blueprint, no frame of reference; the grand work it once was lost, leaving him with only a hundred million broken fragments and no way to tell how they fit together.

At least, it had been that way for the decades under HYDRA's command. He'd been out of cryo so long, his mind let go to mend without the wipes and supplied with small threads to stitch the patchwork of memories together, that now he was slowly piecing that mosaic of his former life back together. His memories were less flashes of disjointed fragments and now short contingencies; instead of just an isolated sound of pencils scratching at paper he now had a tentative picture of a skinny boy hunched dutifully over a thin sketchpad as he drew, or how a Russian lullaby now reminded him of a dozen young faces in a dim military compound.

With the tentative return of his memories came the emotions attached to them. He remembered the fluttery lightness in his stomach when he laughed loud and long around a campfire with Steve and soldiers just on this edge of familiarity, or how the fear had felt like tendrils of ice snaking up his spine when he heard a door slam shut over the rattling of train wheels. He remembered what fondness felt like, how it had bloomed with a fragile warmth behind his ribs for the first time in decades when he heard the first few unsure English words leave Emily's mouth, how she'd smiled like the sun after she held her first conversation in it with him. He remembered how it felt to have the emotions, but what he lacked entirely was how it felt to receive them, to give them freely and openly.

The strings that HYDRA had cut and mangled were slowly reconnecting, threading through the holes in the decaying programming and forming stronger bonds with each day. He hid it, he hid it deep and he hid it well. If Black knew he would be isolated, probably even forcibly wiped with what little equipment the base had even if it had a high chance of killing him. He knew how Black operated, his worth was only measured by his effectiveness in the field, and he knew as soon as that was permanently diminished he was obsolete. Just another loose end to be cleaned up, a broken machine to be discarded, a toothless wolf to be tied down and shot.

A week had passed since his meeting with Emily, since he'd given her every bit of information he could to help them find Steve. He could feel the programming responding to his HYDRA handlers, feel himself falling easier and easier into old ways and habits, found it harder to recall the broken shards of his memories. It scared him, it honestly scared him. What if tomorrow he woke up and all of the progress he had made was undone? What if tomorrow he looked at Steve and didn't see him, and saw only a target or mission or body to be disposed of? If he lost Steve, if he lost him and Emily, then he knew there'd be no saving him from HYDRA; they were the only ones who stood even the slightest chance of picking up his shattered pieces. This act of putting faith and trust in others was so foreign to him it was almost terrifying but he knew he couldn't do this on his own.

The soft sound of exhaled breath brought him back to reality, eyes cutting down to where Steve was resting his head on his thigh. The wound to his right side had healed enough for him to move around somewhat, although his definition of moving was rather singular. Steve had rolled onto his left side, using the Soldier's lap as a pillow, the thin white blanket he was wrapped in streaked with rust red from the most recent change of bandages. The Asset had deemed him well enough to chance providing him with a shirt, bright SHIELD logo across the chest of it, the sight of which made him feel sick. Steve was curled up somewhat, back mostly to the Asset, trying to shrink into himself but twisting himself up in the blanket and his own limbs in the process. Wide open to attack. The thought stung in his mind, eyes narrowing a fraction behind the thick protective goggles, and was dispelled quickly. Steve Rogers was not a target, threat or mark to him, but his programming deemed otherwise.

Even with the serum Steve's wounds were taking too long to heal for the Asset to be comfortable. The horrific gunshot to his side had only just closed up, a stark red swath of raw muscle stretched taunt over mending bones. The wound to his collarbone had healed much quicker, now a silvery patch of scarred skin that was fading with every passing day. His breathing had evened out to a wheezy constant, no longer sputtering and fluid-filled. It was a small comfort to the Asset.

The HYDRA doctors kept him sedated heavily most days now, preventing him from attempting to fight back or flee. The Asset knew the drugs well enough, as they had been used on him in the past when he woke up from cryo. It had kept him docile and pliant and it made him sick to see Steve reduced to the same state. He was burning through the dosage much quicker than he ever had, sometimes snapping to awareness with a feral sort of desperation to escape. Black made an awful point to make him be the one to administer the syrette, make him stand and watch as Steve collapsed and wheezed and tried to fight the drug, always to fail. Black couldn't wipe him, but he was trying his damnedest to break him through other means.

He'd been given less and less time with the Captain, forced into training exercise after training exercise, with little rest in between. The goggles hid how cloudy from exhaustion his eyes had gotten, how dark the patches under them had become, rendering him less and less able to fight back against orders. He wanted to gnash his teeth and lash out at every turn but he didn't have near the strength to keep doing so. He was so tired. He was never going to stop fighting but the programming was much stronger in his depleted state, the feeling of it guiding his movements almost second nature after decades under its control.

Stress sat heavy on the Soldier's shoulders, weighing him down and filling him with dread. His right hand was gently carding through Steve's hair, curling through golden strands that had grown during their captivity. He had orders from Black himself, an ultimate test for his programming, and he could feel it straining in his mind, the cogs and gears of HYDRA's control creaking and screeching in protest against his unwillingness to comply. He'd known this order was coming since his capture, known since they let Steve recover, known since they let him visit him as a reward.

The possibility of it had eaten at his mind since his first agreement to comply with Black's wishes, but now that the command had been given the reality of it all had crashed down on him. It was punishment, he knew it, punishment for not killing Emily and the small group she had gathered, for killing his own team to protect them. Black wanted him to know that he wasn't to make decisions and couldn't think for himself, and Black's sick sense of humor had been summed up in his simple order. He wanted balance; since he couldn't kill Emily and her group, he had to take another's life.

He held a knife in his metal hand.

"Kill the Captain, Soldier."

Even hours later the words still rang in his ears, a roar that threatened to drown out his own thoughts. He couldn't reject a direct command from a handler such as Black, yet he'd managed to hold out this long, kept his blade from marring the unblemished skin of the blond's neck. He could feel the press of it bearing down on his mind, burning behind his temples and tugging at his limbs, but he fought it. He gritted his teeth under the muzzle-mask and hissed out his breath, trying to will himself to throw the knife away from them but his arm wouldn't respond. He couldn't disarm himself but he found he could keep himself from moving to attack; he was at a grim stalemate with the programming.

"Slit his throat, Soldier. I want you to watch him die."

A strangled sort of noise choked in the Asset's throat, swallowed down thickly as he struggled to keep from showing his distress outwardly. He didn't even realize his hands were shaking until Steve made a confused sound, tilting his head to look up at him with one medicine-fogged eye in silent question. It just made the Soldier's hands tremble more. He'd done everything he could to try and protect the few people he knew with certainty and it was being warped into Steve's own death; everything he'd done was going to kill the man he'd tried so hard to protect.

"… Bucky?"

The Asset's whole body shuddered at the other's voice, shaking so much he could hardly sit. He pulled his hand away and watched the other's face, thankful for the first time in decades for the mask that covered his expression. Steve couldn't see the pained look on his face, see how panicked and wild his eyes were through the goggles. Black's agents had locked him in here and he could see the shadows of them through the small square window on the door; he knew that they would keep him in here until he completed his mission. He'd lasted this long, he just had to keep telling himself he just had to hang on a little longer.

He had to look away. He couldn't look at Steve without the programming screaming to lunge, to hold him down and slash the blade across his open throat. The inner mechanisms of his metal arm whirled and purred, plates calibrating and lying flat and repeating, unfeeling fingers tight around the handle of the knife that he could hear cracks forming on the resin grip. He felt like some sort of predator, a monster; Steve had done nothing but try to protect and aid him and when he needed him to return the favor here he was, holding the knife that would kill him.

Muffled voices from the HYDRA agents outside, combined with their restlessly shifting shadows through the window, set off alarms in the Asset's mind. Something was going on. It was likely Black coming to inspect his progress and the thought of it was enough to worsen his shaking. He was being pulled in a dozen different directions; Black's words tugged at him to attack, his own mind screamed at him to get Steve out of this hellhole and protect him, while the programming whispered encouragements to complete his mission and be rewarded with the quiet sleep of cryo.

The weight in his lap vanished and he didn't dare look to see; he could hear Steve straining to sit up, breath wheezing out of his still-healing lungs from the effort. The programming lurched at the opportunity like a starving animal presented with a meal, teeth bared and desperate for blood. It'd be so easy to just turn and plunge the knife into his back; the blade was long enough to reach his heart through his ribs if he aimed right, he'd bleed out if it didn't outright kill him..

"Buck."

His grip on the knife tightened, servos in his arm whirring into readiness. If he completed his mission Black would put him in cryo, would stop all the noise of the broken memories in his head and let him rest; he was so tired, he'd run and fought for so long that even the horrors of his captivity seemed like a sweet relief from the pain of remembering. The fragments of his memories had always just been background noise before, but now with time and healing they were loud, intrusive, overwhelming and smothering. He couldn't handle it on his own.

"Buck, something's going on, we need to get out of here..."

He was so far lost in his own mind, moving without knowing, drowning inside his own thoughts and broken memories. There was only so long one could fight before it all collapsed, until one gives in under the pressure. With his memories a jumbled heap, struggling to stitch together, the pain of it all was overpowering. He felt trapped inside a cage like a wild animal, desperate to get out and escape from all the noise.

The soft touch of warm fingers on his right arm triggered an immediate response, twisting and clamping his hand onto a still-healing shoulder, knife edge pressed to soft skin. He was instantly still, muscles wound tight like a spring, blade biting into his throat just enough to draw a single trickle of blood. Steve, this is Steve, stop. He was horrified, wanting nothing more than to bolt out the door before he could do something to hurt him more, but he couldn't move. He could only watch as Steve swallowed, eyes staring into his featureless goggles, confused and frightened but, God, still so bright.

"Bucky, put it down… please…"

A sound that could have been a whimper escaped him, stomach turning in disgusted horror at himself. Yet he still couldn't move the weapon away. He couldn't just ignore his mission but he could try and fight it, try to delay it, give Steve enough time to try and get away but unless he got a new command he had to complete it. It was the worst part of the programming.

"You don't have to listen to them anymore, Bucky.."

Steve sounded more lucid than he had in weeks, even with his eyes still fogged from medication and pain. He knew Steve, he'd made the connection between him and the boy with the sparrow-thin bones and bloodied knuckles from his memories, but seventy years of forced obedience and programming and control were impossible to just shrug off. Steve must have sensed it, but then again even the broken fragments of his memories told him that he had always been able to read him like a book.

He didn't show an ounce of fear as he slowly raised his hand, hovering it over his metal wrist, never breaking eye contact. He reasoned he wanted him to make sure he saw what he was doing. He remained tense and stiff, ready to slash the blade the inch it'd take to kill the man, but he waited. Steve seemed to take it as permission, lightly laying his hand over his own metal one, trying to gently push it away from his throat. He resisted at first, artificial muscles clicking and flexing before he slowly relaxed, letting his arm be guided away and down.

"You're okay, Bucky," he started, keeping his voice low and even, not even blinking at the impossibly loud sound of the knife clattering to the floor as it slipped from the Asset's grip, "you're my friend, you don't have to make it on your own."

Thank you Buck, but I can make it on my own.

The thing is, you don't have to.

Something about those string of words sparked something, a bright image flashing in his mind. He remembered Steve, so much smaller with red-ringed eyes. He remembered his hand gripping his shoulder tightly; he realized dimly that he was doing much the same now, a twisted sort of parody of a gesture that no doubt had once been based in comfort. Steve lifted his free hand, the other still cradling the metal wrist that a moment ago had been poised to slit his throat, reaching slowly towards his face. The memory was so vivid he didn't even react until he felt his goggles being gently tugged away, dropping discarded into his lap.

The Asset tried to suck in a breath through the muzzle mask but his lungs hitched as his whole body began to shake, arms dropping into his lap, limp. He had no idea what was happening. The programming had faltered, leaving him unable to complete the mission; the conflict between his programming and the memories was just too much. Panic filled every bit of him, heart hammering against his ribs and stomach threatening to retch. He'd never felt like this in any of the memories he had and it terrified him. He couldn't get enough air and he felt entirely out of control of his own body, his breathing loud and ragged and desperate under the mask.

He felt Steve's hand on his left shoulder, thumb just barely tracing the ragged seam where metal met flesh, his eyes focused on his own as he spoke although he didn't hear a word he said. Normally he flinched or reacted violently to contact but he didn't this time, merely shrinking into himself in an attempt to hide from the storm that was his mind. It was oddly assuring, the feeling of his firm grip on his shoulder, although it didn't immediately register that he was touching his left arm. He couldn't touch him with his left arm, he couldn't, he couldn't. He was dimly aware of a loud noise outside the room, an electric sort of noise that sent the panic coiling in his belly shooting straight up his spine. He needed to get away. Electricity meant pain, meant the wipe that would steal Emily and Steve and his fragile memories away again.

His legs felt boneless when he tried to jump up but he didn't make it any farther than that, Steve's grip on his shoulder turning strong as steel, pulling him back down. The Asset dimly heard him yelling at him; he heard Bucky and he heard its okay but everything in between was lost in the blur that was the panic swirling in his mind. The electric noise was right outside, it was too close. Too close.

"S-Steve, I..."

The door was blown off its hinges with a bolt of blue, slamming into the wall, and all thoughts screeched to a halt and screamed attack.

Steve flinched violently when the door exploded to his right, shards of hot metal bouncing off his side. The air was full of the acrid stench of charred metal and sharp electricity, a scent he knew like the back of his hand. Stark. Thank God, Emily had gotten help and somehow found them. They just might get out of this mess after all. He had his visor flipped open and grinned when he saw him, motioning to the two of them broadly. He didn't have enough time to warn him about Bucky, to warn him about the sound the repulsors made, to warn him about anything.

"Tony, turn off your Repulsors!" he shouted but by the time the words left his lips Bucky had already sprung, producing a knife from somewhere on his person and lunging at Tony like a bird of prey, blade like a talon aiming straight for the suit's Arc Reactor. Tony didn't even have enough time to flip down his visor before Bucky barreled into him, sending them both to the floor. Steve tried to jump up to pry Bucky off but the drugs were still in his system, making his limbs feel a hundred pounds heavier and the room spin with any sudden movement. It felt like when his blood sugar used to dip before the serum.

The screech of metal against metal was nearly ear-splitting, the knife glancing off an armored gauntlet when Tony threw his arms up to deflect the strike. Bucky jammed the blade into one of the seams, Tony actually letting out a yelp before he jerked his arm back, the knife catching and snapping from the torque. The useless hilt was discarded, fingers curling into a fist and slamming into the Arc Reactor, cracking the protective covering. Steve's heart skipped and he screamed at Bucky to stop but he watched as he raised his fist again, aiming to break the Reactor which would trap Tony in the powerless suit.

A brilliant flash of blue filled the room and Bucky was thrown off, the sleeve of his uniform disintegrating and exposing the metal underneath. The Repulsor blast had been drastically dialed back, only enough power behind it to knock him away, but it still nearly blew him into the far wall. He landed on his feet like some sort of cat and skidded back, tattered sleeve smoking and the plating of his arm mired with superficial electricity burns. His breathing was far too fast and he was still shaking, hardly able to stand on his own two feet.

"Bucky, calm down!" Steve pulled himself free of the IV drips, using the wall to steady himself as he moved closer to Tony; he was hedging his bets on the fact that Bucky hopefully wouldn't attack with him so close to his target. "Tony is a friend, he's not going to hurt you!" he could only watch helplessly as Bucky tensed himself up again, coiling in on himself like a snake about to strike. "Bucky, don't! I promise he's not going to hurt you!" he placed himself between the two, holding his hands up submissively. Tony quickly did the same, powering down his Repulsors completely.

Bucky remained crouched and ready to lunge, another much larger blade in his right hand. His eyes darted between Steve and behind him to Tony as if he was trying to judge his distance; it made Steve's stomach drop. He edged forward slowly, closing the distance hesitantly even though he heard Tony's concerned hiss of Steve be careful behind him.

"Buck, its okay, I promise. Its fine, Tony's not going to hurt you or me." he assured, reaching out and slowly taking hold of his hand with the knife. Bucky didn't let go, keeping his eyes locked on Tony over Steve's shoulder as if daring him to try and take another step closer even though he was now shaking so badly he could barely keep his stance. His eyes were still unfocused and wild, nothing like they were the last few times he'd visited him in his cell.

"Cap, I think he's having a panic attack" Tony said suddenly, visor flipping up, "try and get him calmed down so we can get you both out of here. Emily is coming down the hallway, I'm going to make sure our path out is clear but we need to leave before more HYDRA agents show up." Steve nodded back at him before turning his attention back to Bucky, hand still on the hilt of the knife to try and keep him from lunging around him at Tony.

"Buck, Bucky, I need you to look at me" Steve spoke sternly, Bucky's gaze snapping back to him in an instant, "please try and calm down. You're breathing too hard, just, try and focus on slowing it down." He'd talked Tony through his panic attacks in the last few months when something triggered them but Tony had never had a penchant to try and kill him during them.

The knife came loose from his grip a moment later, Steve quickly tossing it out of reach onto the abandoned cot. Bucky was shuddering so much he looked like he was about to shake apart, breath heaving in and out. He wanted to get the mask off of him but he didn't think it was a good idea with him still so flighty. He could easily end up hurting him or himself.

"James, теперь ты в безопасности."

He felt Bucky jolt to look over at the remains of the door where Emily was now standing silently, the shield strapped to one arm. Steve would have spun around himself but he didn't dare make any sudden moves with Bucky in his state, knowing he was teetering on the edge of attacking him or attacking anyone who so much as came within three feet of him with a weapon.

"E-Emily." Bucky's voice was painfully weak, hardly audible over his breathing. Steve heard her walk over, she deliberately making enough noise so not to startle him, reaching out to lay her hand on his arm gently. It seemed to ease his shaking a bit, having two grounding points, but they didn't have the time to get him completely calmed down. They still had to get out of this nightmarish place and get to safety.

"You're going to be fine." She reassured him soothingly, her voice softer than he'd ever heard it before, "we're going to take you and Steve somewhere safe." Bucky seemed to calm a bit at her words, tentatively nodding in agreement as his tremors subsided. He still looked pale and nervous but he didn't seem to be on the verge of passing out anymore. "Steve, Stark has the hallway clear but we need to go now. More agents are inbound and we don't have the head of the base pinned down. Do you think he's good for extraction?" Steve turned to look at the Soldier at her words, and he mirrored the action.

"Do you think you can make it out of the building, Buck? We need to go." Steve asked and was relieved when he saw the slight nod he got in response.

"Good. Clint and Bruce are outside in a Quinjet. Let's get you both home." Emily whispered with a little smile in the corner of her lips.

FOUR YEARS LATER

 “Mommy!? Mommy, mommy, mommy!!!” a squeaky voice has spreaded its echo around a cottage.

Little girl ran through upper floor, heading towards stairs leading at the ground floor. She ran into the living room, looking around, but there was no one, so she ran further. Girl spotted the black chow-chow, who was laying at the dog bedding near the main door.

“Hey! Xena! Have you seen Ma?” girl, laughing loudly, went to the dog and pet dog's head playfully. The animal only barked lazly, so girl shook her head and decided to ran to the garden.

But at the door a pair of strong hands had caught her and she had been picked up. She was laughing and squeaking. “Uncle! Put me down, put me down!!!” she giggled, looking up into pair of familiar, huge blue eyes. Steve smirked and made an offended face. “Nah, I don't think so, I like to have you close, besides, now I hope I'll have better deal with your mother if it comes to a dessert!” Captain tickled little belly of the girl, causing a bunch of giggles and squeaks. “Uncle! Unfair!” little girl nuzzled to his neck. “Well, I'll help ya with a dessert if you'll help me to look for my Ma! I can't find her.” Steve laughed briefly and gave a slight nod, then stepped outside t the garden, holding girl in his arms.

Emily was sitting at the wide swing with Bucky, they were catching sunrays of the late summer, cuddling and talking. When little girl noticed her parents, she squeaked once again, tugging Steve's sleve. “Mommy! Daddy!” she yelled loudly and as soon as her little feet touched the ground, she ran towards them, jumping at Bucky's lap. “Mommy! I was looking for you everywhere!!! I draw something for you!!” little girl held a dawing in her hand and she passed it over to Emily. Redhead woman took a piece of the paper in her hand and whistled shortly. “James, look, I bet our girl's gonna be an artist in the future!” she giggled. Bucky took the drawing in his metal palm and took a look on that, letting Steve to watch it also. “I bet she'll” Bucky took girl into his arms and hugged her tight, smiling proudly. “My beautiful Marika.” “I'm sorry to interrupt, but what's with that dessert you had promissed me?” Steve poked Emily's shoulder and woman rolled her eyes. “Captain is hungry as always. I told James before, they should've been calling you Captain Hunger instead of America” Emily summed up, smiling sweetly.

All four talked for a while, then headed back to the house. They were living in peace, filling their lives with love and hope. Hope for better world.

Whatever they had missed, they possessed together the precious, the incommunicable past.

                                                      The End

What have I done !? || Bucky x reader one shot

Words: 1133

Warnings: major character's death, slight cursing, a lot of sadness & angst

SUMMARY: Bucky’s still in a shock after a misadventure, as a result of which Captain America has died. Reader's trying to comfort him, even when the fault is on Bucky’s side...

Author: Rouge

A/N: story has been written for the writing challenge made by @letsimagineitall

It was painful to see him like this. All you could do was embrace him and let the torrent of his tears to soak through your shirt. You could feel him clench his fists, not knowing whether to be mad or to give up hope all together. You could hear him silently screaming, suffocating with each breath he took holding onto his pride. You ran your fingers through his hair, time and time again, in an attempt to calm the silent war within his mind. "Everything's gonna be alright, Buck." You slowly stroked his muscular shoulder trying to comfort him as much as it was possible.

"Go away, Y/N!" Bucky pushed your hand away aa he rose from the couch and went apace to the huge window with a view on the city below. He leant his metal forearm against the glass and let out a loud sigh wiping his tears off. You hesitated. You weren't sure how will he react, when you will try to get close to him again. You good knew he was a ball of anger now. But you found a courage and slowly rose from the couch. You headed towards him. "Don't, Y/N." It sounded like an order, so you stopped immediately. "Bucky.. Darling..." "Shut your fucking mouth, Y/N!" Bucky yelled loudly and went out of the room. Instinctively, you've followed him. He slammed into the bathroom door. Bucky didn't care if you saw. He just broke down. The sobs punched through, ripping through his muscles, bones, and guts. Man pressed his forehead against the grimy stall door and began to let his heart yank in and out of his chest. His life crumbled in his fingertips. You weren't scared at that point. You knew you have to do everything. To calm him down. "Bucky" you mumbled quietly as you approached him. Your hand was placed on his nape where you stroked him. "Calm. Down. And talk with me." You were kinda surprised, when he didn't pull away from you. And when he sank onto his knees, you did same, embracing his shoulders. He sobbed into your chest unceasingly, hands clutching at your shirt. You held him in silence, rocking him slowly as his tears soaked your chest. A tiny lapse let him pull away, blinking lashes heavy with tears, before he collapsed again, his howls of misery worsening. The pain must have come in waves, minutes of sobbing broken apart by short pauses for recovering breaths, before hurling him back into the outstretched arms of his grief. "Hush, Buck... It wasn't your fault, darling" you said in the most mild tone you could ever make. "I wanna disappear" he whispered quietly as he breathed heavily. "You should be pretending you don't know me. You should stay away from me. I'm dangerous. It would be better if you would just erase me from your life, Y/N.." "I can't just forget you. That's not how it works" you told him unhesitatingly. He closed his eyes, his head has rested on your laps. As you were stroking his nape, you let your thoughts flow at ease.

Two days before was the saddest day ever. Bucky has killed Captain America. It was nothing more but a misadventure. Both men were on the mission to Serbia. There, they branch has been attacked by enemies. They were taken by surprise. Bucky managed to escape from under the firing. Of course, he was trying to come back for Steve. He found his pal, when Captain was attacked by heavily armed enemy soldier. Trying to help his friend, Bucky took the aim and shot. He was aiming to the foe. But the other one was much faster. Guy pulled Captain ahead, using him as a shield. The bullet went straight through Captain's chest, piercing his aorta. The second man disappeared, when the chaos has reigned. Bucky, being in panic and shock, was about to do something to save his friend. But it was too late…

 “B.. Buck…”

 “Hush.. Oh God, hush, Steve. You need to stay conscious. Do you hear me? Focus. Natasha!! For fuck’s sake! Quickly!”

 Steve choked with his own blood.

 “Oh God! Steve! STEVE! Motherfucker, don't ya dare to close those eyes!”

 Steve reached hand placing it in Bucky’s metal arm.

 “Don't…. D… Blame.. Yourself..”

 “Shut up, pal. You need to stay calm. Everything's gonna be alright!”

 Steve closed his eyes.

Bucky pressed the wound on his friend’s chest with his bionic hand.

 “No! No! No! Rogers, you old prick, don't do this to me!! Natasha!!! You fucking bitch, move your fucking ass up here! Steve's dying!”

 “Buck.. Cold.”

 Huge tears rolled over Bucky’s cheeks.

 “Steve. I beg you. Stay with me. You have to stay with me, brother. I won't make this without you! We’re brothers under the Sun.. Remember?”

 “Mmmmhmm… Ah.. ..It's burning..”

Captain's voice was nothing but a quiet whisper, although his lips seemed to not move at all.

 “Hush, Steve, I'm with you, pal.. Oh God, what I've done..”

 “...mmmmm.. I've… Accepted it.. Don't…. Buck… It… Feels… Like…….. Mmm.. Home..”

 “Steve?! Dear God!! Steven!?”

 Captain's chest stopped to move.

 “I won't forget you…” Bucky, trembling all over his body, reached with his metal fingers to Steve's eyes and he slowly closed them down. “You'll never be replaced… Forgive me..”

Captain America has passed away in Bucky's arms.

"I'm a monster. How can you even look at me?" his voice has broke down. "I'm a fucking murderer. It will be better if you will forget me. Forget us." "I won't." This time you hissed angrily. "You know I love you. No matter what. We are a couple. I'll be with you for good and for bad." He nuzzled to your knees. "Look. Imma mess. I've let all those people down.. I've let myself down. I've killed Captain. I've killed my friend.. I've murdered him..." You wanted to slap him in the face. He was pissing you out with blaming himself. It was an accident. And everyone knew it. "I will never leave your side. We're in this together." As you touched his yet wet cheek, he shivered under your touch. "Will.. You won't leave?" he raised his chin to look you in the eye. "Never. And I won't forget you. You're the best thing in my life." He nodded.

You woke up in the middle of the night after a terrifying nightmare. Instinctively and blindly, you touched the second part of your bed.

You let out a sigh of relief, when your hand rested on his bionic limb. He was there. He didn't run away. It was a sign. That he was trusting you. That was the most important. You knew a hard time was about to come. But you were prepared. Not only for yourself. Mostly for him.

It was a pleasure to read your work. The situational comedy was perfectly described. Thank you so much for your participation. ~Greetings from Panda Squad. 🐼❤️

SHOPPING DISASTER || Bucky Barnes x Reader x Steve Rogers

SUMMARY: You’re at the mall with Bucky and Steve. Bucky, who’s your boyfriend, has to find new suit for an upcoming party in Avengers Tower. Unfortunately, Bucky is opposite to this idea, manifesting his dissatisfaction in every possible way. The shopping quickly turns into a real disaster.

A/N: Siemanko! ♡  I’ve written this story for Colorful Writing Challenge made by @thepaperpanda I love you, guys! And I hope you’ll enjoy this one shot.

WORDS: 1350

“NO, NO, NO!” Bucky shook his head growling angrily. “I WON’T TRY IT ON. DON’T COUNT ON THIS.”

Keep reading

Reunion || Stucky Smut

Summary: Bucky is out of cryo in Wakanda. He lives calm life but he feels something's about to happen, soon. When Steve comes to Wakanda, it only makes Bucky sure of an uncertain future. Their meeting goes into very sexual way as soon as they get alone.

Warnings: Smut, small IW spoiler

Words: 3399

Authors: Cass & Beast

Request by: @infinity-stones-seeker inspired by ♥

It's been a while since he was awaken. Time seemed to be passing by quicker than it used to do before.

He wasn't a Winter Soldier anymore. He wasn't sergeant Barnes either.

White Wolf. His new name has sounded so proudly and he was truly happy about that.

Bucky was spending his time at learning how to live his new life. Shuri has helped him a lot lately. In the wildest dreams, Bucky wouldn't thought that T'Challa's sister will become his best buddy.

The idyll didn't last long, unfortunately.

Bucky was nervous since the moment he found out that Steve will come to Wakanda, along with people Bucky knew for a while then.

He was still without his left arm and he felt kinda like a waste dude.

 Steve sighed rubbing his neck nervously. He was back in Wakanda. Last time when Steve was here, he had to say goodbye to his best pal and now... He came back to see him again.

Steve was deep in his thoughts, looking through the window until Shuri slapped him in the arm.

"Still here? You should go now. He is waiting at you."

Man nodded slowly and took a deep breath.

He thanked Shuri and left.

He good knows where he has to go but he felt fear. It was such a long time since they've seen each other last time.

Bucky was rounding an airstrip another time, he was meant to meet with Captain at that place. It was when he spotted familiar figure on the horizon.

"Steve..." Bucky whispered, yet his lips didn't move even a bit.

He slowly started to walk toward his pal, his buddy, his Steve... A walk has shortly changed into a pace faster than it, in the end changing into a simple run.

Not paying any attention to people around, Bucky jumped into Steve's arms.

"I thought I will never see you again, pal..." He mumbled as he buried face into Steve's hair.

Steve hugged Bucky tightly. His pal. His buddy. His Bucky... He was awake again and now he was in Steve's arms.

Blond man nuzzled to Bucky's shoulder inhaling other man's scent. In this specific moment, Steve realized how much he missed his friend. His warmth. His presence.

Steve pulled away and looked at Bucky's face. "How are you, Buck? It's good to see you again." He said and looked into Bucky's eyes just to make sure it was really him this time.

Without Bucky, Steve used to dream about his friend. Many times he was thinking that Bucky was back for real but those were just dreams.

"I am fine but your presence here heralds something more, I believe..." Bucky's smile has faded away but soon, new one slowly crept on his lips. Bucky reached his limb out to run fingers over Steve's beard. "I can't believe! You and the beard! I like it." He giggled softly.

Steve blinked and laughed loudly at Bucky's comment. "Then better believe it, Buck! Because this beard stays."

He sighed and looked at his pal. Bucky didn't change a lot. For Steve, it was still the same man. Man's gaze fell on Bucky's missing arm. "It's gone..." He said quietly with obvious sadness in his voice.

A blush crept onto Bucky's face, so man turned his head aside trying to hide it. "I am used to live without it, you know?" Bucky's voice was nothing more than a whisper. "Shuri... T'Challa's sister said she can help me with that but she needs some time, you know?" Bucky smirked darkly as he took a deep breath.

He looked shyly at Steve. His pal wasn't that "good guy" anymore. Steve looked valiant, he definitely acquired so much vigor, he was so tall and handsome as hell...

Bucky pointed with his chin at the little hill nearby. "I live there. C'mon. I'll show you!"

Steve noticed the blush but he didn't say anything, he only nodded. "I know. I talked with T'Challa and Shuri. You still look great, pal. With or without an arm."

Blond man turned around to look at the hill. "It looks nice. Lead the way, Buck." Steve said with a smile.

The sun was setting slowly when they were walking side by side, ahead, together.

"Something's in the air, I can feel it in my bones." Bucky's voice was full of sadness. "We live in bad times, Steve."

Bucky took a deep breath, he inhaled the fresh air and smiled a bit.

"I enjoy Wakanda's life. It's simple but at the same time, it gives me a lot of peace I have almost never had." Bucky looked around above his shoulder to notice a group of children following them now and then. "Looks like we have a company over there."

Steve laughed softly. "We are old, Buck. It's normal for men at this age to feel something in their bones." He joked trying to divert Bucky's attention from the real reason he had came to Wakanda. "That's wonderful, Buck. I am so happy that you finally have found a peace and that... they helped you." He said and then looked over his shoulder to look at children. "I was gone for few months and you already have new friends, pal?" Steve looked back at Bucky and smiled.

Bucky's voiced echoed as he laughed shortly. "It wasn't me who made new friends. It was them."

Bucky stopped within a step and gustily turned around making an angry grimace. "Give the adults some time to talk!" He roared in deep voice of his, what made children laugh as they ran away.

Bucky put his bangs behind the ear and winked at Steve. "I hope they will give us some time at least."

Soon, two men arrived on the peak of the hill. On the other side of the hill, near to the base of an upland, there was a small cottage house.

"So. Here we are..." Bucky looked at his pal.

Steve smiled at Bucky and shrugged. "We will see. If I can be honest, it's kinda sweet to see you with kids."

Man looked at cottage house. "Still looks better than our first apartment. Remember that, Buck?" He asked looking at his friend.

Bucky rolled his eyes poking Steve's side. "You good know I don't like kids."

As they walked down the hill, Bucky nodded slightly. "I do remember."

And indeed, he remembered. It was a good time to both of them. They were young, completely lost in their youth, they weren't worrying of an upcoming wars nor difficulties.

As they reached the house, Bucky has politely shifted aside to let Steve in. "Forgive me the mess." He ruffled his own hair.

"You do realize you aren't a messy person, right?" Steve asked as he walked inside.

"I wasn't. Now I definitely am. I do not put much attention to the mess." Bucky joined Steve inside and he closed the door behind him. "So, Mr Rogers, welcome to Bucky's little farm!" Bucky laughed and simply flopped on the tiny wooden bed.

He looked at Steve once again letting his eyes slip all over the familiar figure.

"Funny that we meet again when everything's about to fall apart again, huh?"

Steve chuckled and looked at Bucky sadly. "Yeah, you are right, Bucky... but let's not talk about this now, please. I came here to see you. Not to talk about world's problems... I missed you, Buck. I am more than happy to see you again."

Bucky smiled at his friend and let out a loud sigh. "Same here, Steve. Make yourself at home. My place is equally yours." Bucky's eyes never left Steve's. "Wanna some coffee? Anything?" He cleared his throat.

"You know I am not a coffee fan." Steve said as he sat next to Bucky on the bed.

Steve was looking at Bucky for a second before placing hand on Bucky's cheek. "I am so happy you are back. You have no idea."

Before Bucky stopped himself from doing so, he let out a short nervous giggle. "Charming as always, huh, Cap?" He asked. At the same time he sweared in his thoughts. WHAT THE HELL ARE YA DOING, BARNES!?

"I missed you, Steven." Again his lips barely moved as he has spoken.

Steve smiled. "I've never been too charming. I have no idea what are you talking about."

Steve couldn't wait any longer. He wanted to taste him. He wanted to feel him. He wanted to have Bucky as close as possible again. He let out a soft sigh and pulled Bucky closer. "I missed you harder."

Bucky shifted a bit blushing hardly. This time was like their very first time back then to him.

Bucky wrapped his arm around Steve's neck and pulled him closer. He crushed his lips on Steve's humming quietly.

Yes. It was that. Familiar taste had hit him hard and Bucky felt like every of his muscles tensed within a second.

Steve was taken by the surprise. He growled into the kiss quietly and kissed Bucky back.

This was the thing that Steve missed the most. This wonderful feeling. The feeling of someone being close. The feeling of being loved.

Steve pulled away panting against Bucky's lips. He took a deep breath and gently pushed Bucky down on the bed.

And it was when Bucky killed the atmosphere. Again. "Doesn't it... Bother you, Steve?" He mumbled quietly looking up at Captain. "I still don't have my arm..."

Bucky's heart was skipping a furious beat. It was mostly him who was leading all the actions between them. Now, the roles have changed a bit.

"Buck..." Steve said quietly and placed his hand back on Bucky's cheek. "I'd have you anyway..." Steve whispered before kissing his pal again.

Steve didn't care about fact that Buck was missing an arm. He was there. He was real and he was with him now.

Bucky smiled but was cut off by breathtaking kiss. He got lost into it. His hand quickly found Steve's nape where Bucky gently ran fingers over the skin. He knew that Steve liked this kind of teasing.

Bucky pulled away seconds later to take a breath. "Someone was missing me deeply, huh?" He made the best and most lovingly voice he only could.

Steve purred loudly as he felt Bucky's hand on his nape. "Fuck... Yes, I missed you. I missed you so badly. Time without you... was so hard that I couldn't wait until you will be back... Four years Buck... it's too long for me..." Man muttered and move his kisses to Bucky's neck. Steve's hand slowly moved down other man's body.

Bucky opened his neck for Steve by tilting head aside, he also let out a quiet approving whimper as a sign he missed Steve's touch.

"Dear Lord, how much I was longing for you."

Bucky slipped hand in Steve's hair pulling them strongly, so Steve was forced to raised his chin. Bucky immediately used this fact kissing man's jawline and then slowly sucking on Steve's lower lip.

Steve moaned as Bucky pulled his hair. "I love when you do that, Buck." He muttered and kissed Bucky deeply. Steve couldn't wait any longer, he started to slowly grind his crotch against Bucky. "I need you, Buck."

He purred and moved back to Bucky's neck pushing hand under his clothes.

"Oh, man.." Bucky was only able to moan incomprehensibly as he felt how Steve was grinding against him.

Bucky licked his lips slowly as he felt a bulge in Cap's pants.

"My Captain is more eager than I thought..." He let Steve's lips wandered along the pulsepoint on his neck.

"You have no idea how eager am I." Steve said and sat up to remove the upper part of his uniform and his gloves. He threw everything on the floor and started to undress Bucky. "I hope your little friends won't visit us. This would be hard to explain them some things."

"Easy, man," Bucky smirked lazily, "They know they cannot come in without my permission."

It was hard to Bucky to get undressed while having only one arm, so he has left this to Steve.

When his shirt was removed, Bucky felt exposed for few seconds but that feeling simply has vanished as Steve's hands started their way along Bucky's chest. Former Winter Soldier was only able to moan deeply as he moved hand to Steve's crotch. Bucky cupped the bulge in Cap's pants and massaged it hardly looking into his lover's eyes.

Steve laughed and nodded. "Well, I can see you had raised then really well, Buck. You are a good dad." Steve joked and let out a low growl as he felt Bucky's hand on his hardening cock.

"Fuck, Bucky..." Steve moaned softly and his hips gently thrust into Bucky's hand.

Bucky smirked against Steve's lips slowly licking over them as he tightened his grasp on Steve's bulge. "It's hard without an arm." Bucky murmured deeply. He wasn't that beefy as he used to be but Steve has gotten very muscular and heavy. Cap was pinning Bucky down easily.

Blond man purred and kissed Bucky’s lips. “Still doing great, pal.” He said, moving kisses down Bucky’s neck and then down his chest.

"I waited for so long..." Steve muttered, undressing Bucky completely.

Bucky wasn't blushing anymore, even when he has gotten exposed completely.

Steve's actions made his cock hard like never before. Bucky licked his lower lip as he reached hand to Steve's belt and fly.

"Hands... Hand off pal." Steve said, pushing Bucky's hand away.

Steve gently kissed Bucky's abdomen and wrapped his hand around Bucky's cock. Blond man smiled and started to stroke Bucky from the base to the tip.

Bucky rested his hand at Steve's shoulder as he let out loud moan. "Shit, Steve..." He whispered rolling head back on the pillows. "Fuck, pal..."

With each touch of Steve's hand, Bucky was shivering softly. A cold shiver was running up and down his spine with his lover's every single touch.

Bucky hung his mouth open as he squeezed Steve's thigh.

"How much I.... I missed that.."

Steve sighed against Bucky's tip. "I missed this too, pal. So much." He whispered before taking the tip into his mouth.

He started to suck Bucky's tip gently swirling his tongue around it from time to time. Steve missed this so much. Every sound made by his pal was making him even more eager.

Bucky instinctively slipped his hand into Steve's hair, he pulled them hardly. "Fuck you, Rogers.." Bucky grunted loudly as he bucked his hips a bit to slid his cock deep down Steve's throat.

Steve good knew how to make Bucky hard. His every move was considered carefully.

Bucky's head was rested on the pillows as he relaxed all of his muscles watching, how Steve was giving him a blowjob.

"Now it's fuck you, Barnes." Steve said before slipping Bucky's cock deep into his throat and sucking it even harder.

He wanted to pleasure Bucky more but also, he has wanted to tease him so badly. He waited too long for this, so he moved his hand to Bucky's balls to massage them gently.

Barnes shifted at the strong grasp on his balls and grunted deeply closing his eyes. "Just like that, Cap. You're doing a great job, you know?"

Bucky opened his blue eyes and looked down at his friend. He grabbed Steve by his bangs and started to rocking his hips in steady pace. With each thrust, Bucky's cock was sliding deep down Steve's throat, what was gagging Rogers a bit.

"Fuck. If you're gonna suck that cock so hardly, I'll cum." Bucky said in deep voice of his. "I wanna play with your dick, too."

Steve let out a loud growl when Bucky pulled his hair. He looked up and just let Bucky fuck his mouth while still massaging man's balls.

Steve pulled back for a bit. "Good. That's what I have wanted and... maybe later, pal." Steve winked and returned to sucking on Bucky's cock. This time he sucked him harder, moving his head up and down, squeezing Bucky's balls at the same time. Steve sticked his tongue out to ran its tip along the main vain on Bucky's cock.

Bucky bucked his hips few more times and then he had just simply cum in Steve's mouth, spurting his hot sperm down Steve's throat.

"FUCK!" Bucky grunted loudly jerking on his cock to gush every drop of his cum.

As he finished, Barnes got up and pulled Steve by the hand. He kissed Rogers and circled him nuzzling to his nape from behind. Bucky rubbed his hand down Steve's chest to his belt.

"Let's just be two free men that have gay sexual urges and are finally given the opportunity to act on those urges." Bucky whispered as he kissed his pal's neck.

Barnes let go of Steve's cargo pants after unbuckling and unbuttoning them and they fell to the ground.

Bucky grabbed the strap of Steve's boxers and pushed them down around his ankles as well. Barnes began grinding the man as they both moaned. "C'mon Mr. Rogers, relax." Bucky whispered as he stroked Steve's member pumping his hand fastly along Steve's shaft.

Steve growled loudly and grabbed Bucky's hand. "Since when you are in charge?" He growled and successfully threw Bucky back on the bed.

Steve stepped out of his pants and boxers and then pinned Bucky down. "White Wolf isn't so confident now, huh?" He kissed Bucky. "Hope you are ready, pal. I don't wanna hurt you." Steve winked.

"Hurt? Me? I was hurt many times. That will be a pleasure."

Bucky tried to support his weight on his elbow but he failed and in the end he laid comfortably down. His eyes were on Steve's massive cock. Bucky licked his lips briefly.

"I've never seen you so bossy, man."

Steve spitted on his hand and stroked his cock few times listening to Bucky's words. "Exactly Buck, and it's enough for you." He explained and kissed Bucky deeply before slowly pushing into him.

Steve let out a loud growl. "Your ass is fucking tight, pal... And I was always bossy." He grunted and nuzzled to Bucky's neck.

"Fuck!" Bucky growled and immediately his hand wandered to Steve's back, where Barnes dug his nails into man's skin. "Fuck, you're so fucking huge, Rogers! What were you taking? Fucking steroids?!" Bucky bit his lower lip slowly wrapping legs around Steve's hips.

The feeling of being full was slowly spreading all over his body. Indeed, it was kinda painful but Bucky enjoyed the feeling.

The sight of Steve's muscular body towering over him was truly breathtaking.

Barnes was grunting everytime when Steve was shoving his member into Bucky's ass.

Steve moved slowly letting out a moan from time to time. “Your ass feels so good, Bucky.” He wrapped arms tightly around his man. “I wish I could hold you like this forever… I don’t want to let go. Never again.” Steve said panting.

Bucky moved hand from Steve's back to his nape trying to pull him down as much as it was possible. "Yes, Steve. Just like that. Just like that."

Bucky let his thoughts drifted away and he only focused on the pleasure.

Steve started to move faster. "Fuck Bucky... I am close." Steve growled and nuzzled to Bucky's neck. Soon, Steve pushed into Bucky as deep as he only could and he cum with a loud whimper. "Fuck!"

Bucky has arched his back as the pleasure hit him hard.

"Steven!" He grunted deeply shooting his eyes close as he felt how Steve cum inside of him.

Moment later, when Rogers fell on the mattress next to him, Bucky instinctively nuzzled to his pal, hiding his face in Steve's hair.

Blond man sighed and gently stroked Bucky's hair. "Don't call me Steven ever again." Steve laughed and hugged Bucky tightly. "You know what Buck?" He asked and looked at his friend.

Bucky brushed his lips against Steve's collarbone. "I like to call you that... What's it?" He mumbled quietly.

"Just don't... I love you and I am happy you are here with me. I missed you. I missed having you in my arms." Steve said softly and kissed Bucky's forehead.

Bucky only nodded before he let the darkness to overwhelm his body.

"I love you too, Steve."

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Before You'll Be Gone|| Stucky Smut

Summary: Bucky finds the best way to improve Steve's mood before the mission.

Warnings: Smut

Words: 2372

Authors: Cass & Toro

It was one of the hardest days in his entire life and he felt blue. Steve was sitting at the edge of his bed, lurking through some documents. It was when he heard some noises in the kitchen. He frowned but eventually went downstairs to check what happened.

"Ugh! Fucking pan and fucking stove... FUCKING PANCAKES." Bucky growled to himself and threw the pan across the kitchen. "Okay... if not pancakes than maybe a cake..." He muttered and rubbed his face, he was annoyed. "Parker said that cooking with the book is easy..."

Steve leaned his side against the doorframe. "What the hell are ya doing, Buck? Who's gonna tide this mess later?" Steve asked as he looked around.

Stains of oil and flour were everywhere, even at the ceiling. Pan that Bucky threw seconds before was laying on the floor next to the table.

Steve crossed arms over his chest, sighing.

"I try to cook." He said before looking around, then he shrugged. "I will force Parker or Sam to clean it. I have more important stuff on my head now." He said and looked at Steve. A "How do you feel, pal?" Bucky asked, taking his apron off.

"Normal, I guess." Steve rolled his eyes. "And no, you will clean it by yourself." Steve's voice was firm. "It can't be like this that anytime you make a mess, someone else has to help you. Ain't it nice." Steve let out a sigh and took a seat at the table. "I am going on the mission soon." He said simply.

"Nope! Parker does nothing, just lurk around so he can move his teenage ass and do something here, and Sam is Sam. I hate him." Bucky giggled and then blinked. "Wait... what? You just came back like two days ago. And what with me?!" He whimpered sadly.

Steve slipped hands in his hair. "I have to. Agency has found some spy among them in their European branch. I have to investigate."

"They can send Hulk? Stark? Uhm... Parker? The tower is full of people and they have to send YOU?" Bucky walked to the table and sat at the opposite side. "I won't let you go this time. I mean it, Rogers. You are staying here with me. We need to improve your mood first." He smiled.

"Bucky, I am not in mood." Steve said simply. "And yes, they want send me. I have the best knowledge in a matter." He sighed. "I won't be long. Month or so..."

"EXACTLY! You aren't in the mood and I wanna change it... I..." Bucky blushed and rubbed his face, "I made this mess because... I tried to make those Captain America themed pancakes, to improve your mood." He looked around, biting his lips. "You see how it ended."

Bucky sighed sadly. "Why you say it like it's nothing? Month is a really long time. I really won't let you go. They can send Nat, she knows a lot."

Steve shook his head. "It's not that easy, Buck. And... It's pretty sweet, pal. You know I can't be mad at you for too long though." Rogers giggled shortly. "Will you help me with packing later?"

Bucky sighed deeply and nodded. "Sure... I will help you."

He watched Steve for a minute and then smiled. "About your mood... I have an idea."

Steve cocked his brew, crossing arms over his chest. "What idea? Shall I be scared?" Steve chuckled softly.

Bucky said nothing, only rolled his eyes. He raised from his seat and walked to Steve from behind. Bucky placed his hands on Steve's shoulders. He started to massage them, moving to Steve's back and neck from time to time. He was pressing all the right spots.

Bucky leaned over a bit. "You know... I really miss you when you are on a mission." He whispered against Steve's ear before kissing his neck and shoulder.

Steve couldn't help but smile as he closed his eyes. He enjoyed every single moment of that little massage.

"Mhmmm..." He purred softly. "I can see you do, Buck."

Steve reached his hand back to gently stroke Bucky's metal arm.

Bucky giggled. "Aaaa? You see? I already helped you." He smiled and looked at Steve. "I really won't let you go. I miss you too much, when you're gone, Imma stuck with my own hand." He muttered and teasing as he nuzzled to Steve's neck.

Steve got up slowly and smirked at Bucky, he wrapped his muscular arm around Bucky's shoulders. "You know how to be cute, don't ya?" Steve smirked as he slowly led Bucky upstairs, checking by the way if no one was around.

"Yes! We're gonna fuck! FINALLY!" Bucky said happily and pulled Steve quickly to their room.

He locked the door behind them as they both entered.

"You have no idea for how long I've been waiting for this. Since you came back, you didn't touch me... I was getting worried that you don't love me anymore." Bucky purred, pulling Steve closer. "You were a bad boy, punk." He growled playfully, grabbing Steve's ass.

Steve bit his lower lip, looking Bucky directly in the eye. "Calm down, take it easy, Serge." Steve leaned more to Bucky and slowly kissed his jawline as he slipped hands under his shirt.

Buck laughed loudly. "I never was a gentle type. You're gonna scream my name tonight." Bucky smiled and kissed Steve deeply. Bucky's metal hand moved into Steve's pants while his normal one moved under Steve's shirt.

"Go on ice, Buck!" Steve blushed a bit as he pulled away to take a deep breath. "And no, no, no. You gotta work hard to get access to my cock, pal." He teased.

Steve pulled Bucky's hand out of his pants. He pushed Barnes onto the bed and stood in front of him, slowly taking his T-shirt off, exposing his muscular abdomen to his boyfriend.

Bucky sighed softly and laid down comfortable, putting hands under his head. "Dance for me, hottie." He purred and bite his lips, watching Steve. He could already feel how uncomfortably tight his pants have became.

Steve laughed shortly and started to rock his hips, slowly unbuckling his belt. "You like it, don't ya?" Steve asked and slowly unzipped his fly, slipping hand in his jeans to massage his cock while he was watching Bucky and his cock that was tenting in his pal's pants.

"You know I can do that too?" Bucky smiled and removed his pants, tossing them aside. "Nah, I'm not gonna fuck around." He said and then took off his boxers, also tossing them on the floor. Bucky sighed softly and started to stroke his already hard cock.

Steve slipped jeans down his legs, leaving his boxers on. The bulge was already visible and he couldn't help but smirk on Bucky.

He joined Barnes in bed, starting to kiss his neck and clavicles. Then, he slowly licked his way down, straight to Bucky's cock.

Bucky grabbed Steve by his nape. "Hey, hey, hey. Take off those nice, white boxers or no cock for you." Bucky smiled at Steve and shrugged. "I always can fuck your pillow as I always do when you're gone."

Steve froze, he raised his head and tilted it a bit. "Excuse me, Buck? You were fucking MY pillow?!" Steve's eyes were wide open. "Oh, you little, nasty dumbshit!"

After these words, Steve stood up and with one movement slipped his boxers down his legs. He briefly ran hand along his shaft. "Look what you do to me. You got me that hard within a blink of an eye."

Bucky laughed. "What? What am I supposed to do when you're gone? Fuck Sam? Or buy one of those weird sex dolls with your face on them? They look really weird."

Bucky purred and watched Steve. "You are not the only one that is hard here." He moved his metal hand into Steve's hair, pulling them gently. "Now. Move down there and suck this cock."

Steve got back onto his knees, he grabbed Bucky's cock in his hand and pumped it few times before taking it into his mouth. He wrapped his lips around Bucky's tip, sucking on it. Steve also purred, sending some vibrations to his boyfriend's dick.

"Fuck... Yea, just like that. Suck this thick cock, punk." Bucky purred and grabbed Steve's hair to control his moves. "Suck me good and I will think about a reward for you."

Steve started to using his hand along with his mouth to work on Bucky's cock. He pulled Bucky out of his mouth. Steve grinned and ran his tongue along a main vain of Bucky's cock, Steve's eyes were on his pal. "You like it, don't ya?" Steve grunted, he grabbed his own cock to stroke it.

"Sure I like it, Stevie. It feels so great but come here." Bucky purred quietly and pulled Steve up. "Be a kind kitten and reach to our little drawer and take the lube out." He said before kissing Steve's chest.

Steve kissed Bucky's lips, their tongues were dancing together.

Steve reached to drawer and pulled little, plastic bottle out, handling it to Bucky. "Here ya go, pal." He whispered as he blushed.

"What? My little kitten is shy?" Bucky asked softly, taking some of the lube on his fingers. "I will be gently as always, so don't ya worry." He purred and kissed Steve again as his hand slowly moved to Steve's ass. "So, so tight, my kitten." Bucky whispered pushing two fingers into Steve.

Rogers ran tongue over his dry lips and briefly rubbed his beard. He caught Bucky's cock and started to stroke it as he kissed his jawline. "Only for ya, pal. Mmm, I like your fingers but I rather need you cock there."

"Fuck..." Bucky gasped and smiled at Steve. "Be patient. I don't wanna hurt ya and that hole is a bit too tight for me yet." He explained and kissed him deeply, moving his fingers in and out.

After a moment Bucky pulled his fingers out and put Steve on the bed, then he turned him, so Steve was on his stomach.

"You want this cock, don't ya, kitten?" He purred against Steve's ear before biting it gently.

"Yea, Buck. I do. Stop teasing and fuck me like ya always do, huh?" Steve crossed hands beneath his chin and sticked out his bum. "C'mon, Buck."

"You are a very bad kitten today, punk." He said and covered his cock in lube. "But well. When you ask so nicely... I will fuck that nice ass of yours." Bucky whispered and pushed into Steve without any warning. "Fuck..." He whimpered. "Feels so fucking good." Bucky growled and started to thrust harder into him.

Steve grabbed the sheets and sucked onto his lower lip. "Yea, Buck, feels amazing!" Steve turned his head slightly to look at Bucky.

He was enjoying his every push, every second of being stretched out by his boyfriend's cock.

"Keep going, Buck, you're amazing."

Bucky panted against Steve's shoulder. "Fuck... You are so perfect, kitten. So warm, so tight, I love you so much."

Bucky's hips continued to move hard while his metal hand moved to jerk Steve's cock. His other hand was tightly wrapped around Steve's stomach.

"Shit..." Steve panted quietly, the feeling was unbearable.

When Bucky started to jerk onto his cock, Steve moaned lazily. "If you'll keep this, I'll cum soon." He informed.

Bucky smiled and bite Steve's neck hard enough to leave a mark, moving his hips even faster. "Good... Good, that's my goal tonight." He moaned and nuzzled to Steve's back, kissing him there softly.

Bucky started to stroke Steve's cock even faster, squeezing it hard from time to time.

"Jesus, yes, just like this, shit!" Steve turned into a moaning mess beneath Bucky. "I want you to cum on my face, pal." He asked, squeezing sheets tightly as he felt that his cock started throbbing in Bucky's hand.

"Be a good kitten and cum for your pal. Then we will see if you deserved this." Bucky muttered pushing into Steve harder few times, playing with his tip. "Such a good, little kitten. Fucking cum for me." He growled nuzzling to Steve's neck.

Steve also put his hand onto his dick and jerked it hardly. The precum started pouring down his shaft and he let a loud sigh. Then he let Bucky finish working on his dick and he cum, moaning Bucky's name over and over again.

Bucky shivered as he felt Steve's cum on his hand. "Such a good boy." He moved his hand to Steve's mouth. "Come on. Suck these fingers, kitten." Bucky said and continued to move his hips. "Fuck... Stevie. I am close. So close." Bucky moaned.

Steve grabbed Bucky's hand and started to lick his fingers clean from his own seed. "I love these metal fingers of yours. And when your cock is stretching my asshole." He grunted.

Bucky only smiled and then wrapped his metal hand around Steve's throat. "Fuck... I love you so much, Steve."

Bucky moaned Steve's name when his hips stuttered, he quickly pulled out. "Come here, kitten." He said and started to stroke his own shaft. "Let's paint this pretty face."

Steve got up and got off the bed, he knelt down in front of Bucky, his eyes on his boyfriend as he was slowly pumping hand over his own length.

Steve smirked rudely and sticked his tongue out, waiting at Bucky's release to approach.

Bucky growled loudly as his climax hit him. Strings of thick, whitey cum shot on Steve's face. "Fuck... Fuck..." Bucky gasped and looked at Steve with a smile. "You look so cute like this, kitten."

Steve grabbed his boyfriend's cock jerking it few times to make sure nothing has left. He licked Bucky's cock clean and then swirl tongue over his mouth to lick Bucky's cum. "You taste amazing, pal."

He smiled. "Pineapples help!" Bucky winked and pulled Steve on his laps. "You know what I am thinking now?"

"What?" Steve sighed and kissed Bucky's jawline.

"Right now... I think of how hard I'll be fucking your pillow when you will be gone." Bucky said and laughed.

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