Spam for littleguyfrombrooklyn

[endsinafight]

Bucky'd been fidgety throughout the debriefing with Fury, even if he hadn't moved a muscle as he listened to the mission -- another HYDRA target, smaller, on a remote island in the Pacific. Not the usual setup, which made him uneasy from the get-go. But there was something else, something nagging at him, something in Fury's tone that told him there was more to this mission than he was willing to divulge. It wasn't a surprise. Fury might not be HYDRA, but in some ways his methods were so similar that it felt like being back there anyway. He definitely believed in the need to know principle, and obviously he didn't feel like they needed to know whatever it was he was holding back. His gaze darted to Steve, wondering if he'd picked up on it, too.

But if Steve had, his expression didn't betray his thoughts.

He pressed his lips together as they were dismissed, Fury addressing him as the others agents involved in the mission filtered out of the room. "Barnes. Hang back a minute."

And there it was, he thought, meeting Steve's eyes only briefly before lingering as Fury requested. One the door was shut again, the other man turned to study him.

"You have a different mission while they're disabling all of HYDRA's operating systems and containing the operatives."

Bucky studied him just as intently, his voice flat when he responded. "Who'm I eliminating?"

If Fury was surprised by his response, he gave nothing away. "Your target is Katya Belyakov."

"Who is she?" His voice was wary.

"You sure you wanna know the details, Barnes?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.

"If you're asking me to murder someone, yes," Bucky said, jaw tightening.

Fury regarded him for a long moment. "Essentially, she's the of the most dangerous people in the galaxy. Mind control abilities that she's utilized to force others to commit her dirty work. She's likely being accompanied by a former SHIELD operative who turned out to be moonlighting for HYDRA, Grant Ward. I'd prefer him to remain alive. He's got a lot to answer for."

Every muscle in Bucky's body tensed at the information about Belyakov, but also the name Grant Ward, his stomach turning in recognition.

"Ah. See you're familiar with him then."

"Unfortunately," Bucky responded stiffly, struggling to maintain his composure. "I'm assuming this isn't an optional mission." There was a hint of bitterness in his voice.

"You knew when you signed the dotted line that there's no such thing here, Barnes. Is there a problem? Or do I need to go over the fine print of your contract to refresh your memory?"

Fuck you, he thought. "No, Sir. Am I free to go?"

"You're dismissed."

--

An hour later, he was suited up in his tac gear, breathing steady and even despite the wild pounding of his heart as he boarded the quinjet with a team he didn't know or trust, and the only person on the earth he truly did.

Comments

[endsinafight]

It took him a moment to stop staring at all the blood, at Katya's tiny, lifeless body, and he felt himself go entirely numb to the horror of it. Lock it away, he thought distantly, pulled from his thoughts by the clatter of Steve's shield being thrown. He turned in time to see it nearly take Ward's head off, and it was all he could do not to throw up at the sight, turning, dazed, to see Steve on his knees, clutching his hand.

There was blood all over him and Bucky had been the one to cause it. He'd shot him. Injured him. Again.

His blood ran cold at the sight and he stood staring, frozen in place, horror in his eyes.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve’s heart was pounding and he felt a little lightheaded with pain—hot and cold trembling flushed through his limbs. He was probably on the edge of going into shock. But by the look on Bucky’s face, he was already there—or worse.

“Hey Buck,” he said, hoarse. “You saved my life. It’s okay, you made the right call. You saved my life.”

He tried to sound tender, but his voice was strained.

[endsinafight]

The tremor and stress in Steve's voice snapped him back to reality and he holstered his gun, quickly shrugging out of his jacket as he moved toward him, kneeling down in front of him. "Let me see it," he said, tone leaving no room for argument.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve gave Bucky his hand, slowly. It was ugly and bleeding, so he reached out with his other hand to gently touch Bucky’s face. It was really important for him to know how grateful Steve felt.

“Thank you,” Steve said. “I didn’t want to die.”

[endsinafight]

Sweat broke out across Bucky's forehead, his breathing more ragged than usual as he examined Steve's injury. It looked really bad, like it might not heal, even with the serum in Steve's veins. He barely registered the touch to his face, though his gaze flickered momentarily to meet Steve's. He tried to smile, but couldn't quite manage it.

"We need to stop the blood flow," he said, voice distant and hollow-sounding to his own ears. He looked down at the jacket in his hands and then at Steve's injury. "It's gonna hurt."

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

“‘Sokay,” Steve said, slurring. He was definitely well into shock at this point, even with the serum. “‘Sokay if it hurts. Bucky, thank you.”

He swayed toward Bucky from where he was kneeling, blood streaked and eyes wide.

[endsinafight]

It wasn't okay. None of this was okay. Nothing that happened today was okay. He took a slow, deep breath, repeating his mantra over and over in his head. Lock it down, Soldier. He wrapped Steve's hand as carefully and gently as he could, steadying him with a hand on his shoulder. He debated for one, brief moment, before carefully wrapping his arms around Steve's torso and lifting him up into his arms.

"Stay with me," he said, recognizing that Steve was in shock from the pain and the blood loss, and probably also from having been mind-controlled, regardless however briefly. "Gonna get you outta here and to medical."

He strode through the corridors with Steve's body cradled against his chest.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

“Woah,” Steve said, with an almost comic level of surprise when Bucky scooped him up. He flailed a little bit, jostling his hand enough to curse about how much it hurt.

He settled after a moment, letting himself be held.

“I used to act like I hated when you did things like this because it was easier than admitting there were parts of it I liked. Sorry I was an asshole.” He said that with his face pressed into Bucky’s body armor.

“Lots of nerves in hands,” he continues. “This fucking hurts.”

[endsinafight]

It wasn't the first time he'd carried Steve like this, but it had been decades since he'd done it. He could recall a couple of times he'd carried him into the emergency room with vivid clarity. Steve had been so much smaller then. Despite his size Bucky had often forgot just how little he'd weighed, mostly because Steve's attitude and fiery temper made it easy to forget. But when he'd have to carry him, or when he was just being an obnoxious asshole to annoy his best friend by picking him up, he'd always gotten the startling reminder of how lithe the man was.

Not so these days, but it still wasn't a struggle for him. He had serum in his veins, too, and a bionic arm, and he spent a lot of time working out just for something to do.

"You weren't the only asshole," he mumbled, shooting a glare at a couple of their team members as they stood right in his way. The glare was enough that they quickly got out of his way. "Are any of you trained in field medicine?" Bucky was, but that had been back in the 40's, and he was sure there were changes in how things went. He wanted to apologize to Steve, but he stopped himself for the time being.

Apologies could come later.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

The red headed guy who had been eyeing Bucky before the mission hesitantly stepped forward.

“Yessir,” he said, giving Bucky another strange glance. “I am. What’s the injury? Let’s all get in the quinjet and I’ll see to him.”

—- “I’m fine,” Steve insisted, but not even he believed that fully. “I’m not going to die from this,” he revised and that was probably true.

“Takes a lot more than a little bloodloss to knock me down,” Steve said. He illadvisedly started squirming in Bucky’s arms, as if he was going to try and prove that he could stand.

[endsinafight]

"Bullet wound to the hand. He's lost a lot of blood, too," Bucky responded, moving past all of them and heading out of the facility toward the quinjet. He rolled his eyes, though, at Steve's insistence that he was fine, nerves frayed even when the other man corrected himself. No, he wasn't going to die. Bucky felt certain of that much, too.

"Stop squirming," he snapped at Steve, glaring at him and tightening his grip around him a little as he carried him up the steps to the jet.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

“Good job, team,” Steve said vaguely to the men in the quinjet. He had the awareness that it wasn’t very dignified to be carried in and he was starting to feel better, serum getting a handle on the pain and bloodloss.

“Buck, I’m okay. I can walk—it’s just my hand.”

[endsinafight]

His glare intensified, a chilling reminder of his own not-so-distant past, but he set Steve down in one of the seats carefully, doing his best not to jostle him. "Help him," he said flatly to the red headed man, stepping back far enough that he wouldn't be in the other man's way of giving Steve much needed medical attention, but staying close enough to carefully observe everything that was happening.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

The quinjet took off for the US, getting high altitude and racing there.

“This is probably going to need surgery,” the redhead said.

“No shit,” Steve muttered. He reached out to Bucky with his free hand. “Buck. Buck, hey. Stop glaring at me like that. You saved my life.”

[endsinafight]

"What happened? I thought this was supposed to be a routine mission," one of the other guys spoke up, looking at Steve with worry.

Bucky didn't answer, but he did force himself to take another deep breath, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. His gaze dropped away from Steve's face, the glare wilting into something more akin to somber. His eyes landed on his own hands, both covered in blood. Steve's blood, since he hadn't been close enough to the other two victims to get splattered. Nausea and low-grade panic made his breathing hitch and he quickly moved away from Steve and the agent tending to him, trying his best not to throw up.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

“Routines can be pretty fucked,” Steve said. “Ask Fury if you have more questions, I’m not authorized.”

“Buck,” he said, sounding urgent. “Bucky, c’mere.”

He tried to reach out with his injured hand, which jostled it in the medic’s care, making him hiss.

[endsinafight]

The agent frowned a little, but nodded, glancing at a couple of the others silently, and letting it go. Captain's orders, after all.

"Cap, you gotta stay still, okay? Don't want it to start bleeding again," the red head told him earnestly. He glanced over his shoulder at Bucky, wary about how pale he'd suddenly gotten. He nodded slightly to one of the others, who reluctantly stepped closer to Bucky, reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder.

He flinched. "Don't touch me," he snapped, pulling away, even though the touch had helped him snap back to the present once more. He still felt nauseated, but he moved back over toward Steve, sitting down as close as he dared.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve put as much of his punishing sincerity in his voice, reaching out to nudge Bucky’s face so he was looking at him and they were making something like eye-contact. “Bucky, thank you. You saved my life. You gotta focus on that, okay, pal? You saved me. I’d be dead with a bullet in my skull if you didn’t make the call you did. You know that, right? You made the right call.”

The pain in Steve’s hand paled right now to the look on Bucky’s face, the queasy horror that Steve could feel emanating from him.

[endsinafight]

His eyes were glazed, glassy as he looked back at Steve, chest so tight it hurt to breathe. Logically he knew Steve was probably right. He replayed the scene in his head all over again, still not seeing what other options he could have explored before taking the shot. It was just one more instance of not having any real choices in his life.

"Yeah." His voice was barely audible.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

“Yeah, that’s right. You know you did. You’re a fucking hero, Buck. You made the call,” Steve said.

He tried to make his voice a soothing patter. When the red headed medic working on him got between him and Bucky—in order to get a better angle to bandage his hand, Steve bodily moved him out of the way.

“I’m so grateful. So fucking grateful, Bucky. You made a hard call and you saved my life and it’s not fair that you make yourself suffer for it.”

[endsinafight]

He didn't want to hear how grateful Steve was, even if he knew why he kept saying it. His skin itched with the need to do something, to move, to run, and there was nowhere to go. Even when he got off the quinjet, he might as well be nothing more than a rat trapped in a maze. He couldn't go anywhere, just like he hadn't been able to go anywhere for all the decades he'd been with HYDRA, and before then, when he'd been in the army. He was nothing more than a pawn in everyone else's game.

"Let him take care of your goddamned hand, Steve," he said tiredly. "Please."

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

“I ain’t gonna die from a measly gunshot wound on a limb,” Steve said. “The look on your face is much more important to me right now.”

Steve was in a lot of pain and all he wanted to do was wrap Bucky up in his arms and kiss him and call him sweetheart and try to get through to him that he was a good man who did a good thing. He was terrified—truly terrified, and it wasn’t about losing his hand.

“I can’t lose you again, Buck,” he said, soft.

[endsinafight]

"I'm not going anywhere." Even if he could actually move around freely without consequences being brought down on Steve and his friends, Bucky was pretty certain he didn't have it in him to leave Steve behind again willingly. Not for good. Not after everything that had happened.

The red headed man looked between them, hesitating. "If you let me finish bandaging your hand, I'll get out of the way so you two can talk," he said quietly so only Steve and Bucky could hear him. "I'm almost done."

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve glared at the redhead, fierce. He didn’t like the interruption. But he softened fast and muttered an apology, holding out his hand without much grace. But he did it.

He was bandaged up, for now at least. When he got back, he had no doubt he’d be rushed into surgery. There was good odds he’d lose the hand entirely, but he’s trying not to think about it.

He sat in huffy silence until the man finished and left. The redhead, gaining back some of Steve’s goodwill, quietly cleared out a perimeter around the two of them, making excuses that Steve needed peace.

“Bucky,” Steve said, so softly. “Honey. Look at me. Look at my face.”

[endsinafight]

His gaze darted to the men and women that the redhead had ushered back far enough that they couldn't easily overhear Bucky and Steve's quiet conversation, and a little of the tightness in his chest dissipated at just having more space around him. No one crowding and observing, studying.

Bucky reluctantly did as Steve said, lifting his gaze to meet the other man's eyes. "I'm not going anywhere," he repeated, more firmly this time.