endsinafight | Spam for littleguyfrombrooklyn

It was the sound of a quiet pinging noise that woke him from a restless sleep. He opened his eyes, blinking a few times against the faint light filtering into the bedroom from the closed blinds. Steve was curled up beside him, head resting on Bucky's shoulder. He exhaled, letting his eyes drift shut again until the pinging noise sounded once more, and he groaned.

"Someone's trying to get a hold of you, Steve," he grumbled, burying his face in the pillow.

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From:

littleguyfrombrooklyn

They walked into the apartment. It was big, modern, and cold. Steve hated it on sight.

“You said it might explode,” Steve said, his voice flat. “I’m not okay with that. And it needs to come off.”

From:

endsinafight

Bucky sighed quietly, glancing around at the apartment, spacious and sparsely decorated. Aside from being in much better shape, it reminded him a little of his place back in Bucharest. Empty. Lonely.

"I'm just saying it feels wrong to me." He pressed his lips together, not really trying to argue against having Stark look at it to check it for explosives or even some kind lethal injection that would puncture his vein if removed without the chain of command being involved. He shrugged the backpack off his shoulders and set it on the couch, leaning down and removing Monet's leash from her collar.

From:

littleguyfrombrooklyn

Monet nudged Bucky cheerfully and then started sniffing around the apartment. She found some dog bowls in the corner and started drinking from one of them in pleasure. They were pink and said “Daddy’s Little Princess” on them in rhinestones.

“I don’t ever want to pressure you to do something that feels wrong,” Steve said, after a moment. He sighed. “What are our options, though? Who could we ask?”

From:

endsinafight

Bucky blinked a few times, truly surprised by the dog bowls there, filled with water and food. He hadn't anticipated that and he wasn't sure what to think, blinking and glancing over his shoulder at Steve. "Maybe he just -- has some kind of equipment that could scan it for any abnormalities. If there's nothing, I can get it off myself," he answered.

From:

littleguyfrombrooklyn

“Okay,” Steve said, simply. He wanted to push more, but he wouldn’t.

He smiled over at Monet, enjoying her food.

“He’s really trying, Buck. I really think he is."

From:

endsinafight

Bucky studied Steve, knowing there was more that he was holding back, keeping himself from saying. He rubbed a hand over his neck and moved to sit down beside the backpack. "I know." And he did. He believed that. He just didn't think pushing the guy was the best idea. "He say how long it would take to fix up your hand?"

He rested his elbows on his knees as he looked up at him.

From:

littleguyfrombrooklyn

“Not sure,” he said. “I hope they won’t have to actually put me in the goddamned thing. Maybe I can just stick my hand in?”

Steve’s voice was a little wary. He was pretty sure he was going to have to crime in that coffin—even though they called it a cradle, it definitely looked like a coffin—and he wasn’t looking forward to it. It would probably be a couple hours, especially with a less expert operator.

He really wanted to ask Bucky to watch over him, while he was prone and helpless, but that would mean a couple hours alone with Tony. He chewed his lip and decided against it, turning away so that Bucky couldn’t see his face, and checking the fridge for any food. Of course there was, because Tony was a great host—in his own weird way.

From:

endsinafight

"Wait. Put you in what thing?" Immediately, Bucky's unease heightened. He'd been picturing Steve lying in a hospital bed or gurney during the procedure but clearly he was missing some details. He could hear the wariness in his voice, the nervousness on his face and those things spoke volumes.

He watched Steve turn away and head for the fridge, barely tamping down the urge to follow him into the kitchen.

From:

littleguyfrombrooklyn

“It’s called The Cradle,” Steve said, sticking his head in the fridge to grab a family size thing of hummus.

There were unsurprisingly pita chips in the cabinet. He opened them with his teeth. “It’s real fancy tech. I don’t really understand it. But the only times I’ve seen it work, the subject? Patient? Had to be entirely inside.”

From:

endsinafight

Yeah, no. That sounded entirely too much like --

Bucky stood up, moving into the kitchen and leaning on the counter, ignoring the chips and the hummus, stomach turning at the direction his thoughts had gone. "I'm coming with you," he informed him, folding his arms across his chest. No way was he going to let Steve climb into some kind of unknown medical device for hours without being right there to make sure no one hurt him or messed with him while he was in it.

From:

littleguyfrombrooklyn

Steve looked up at him, as serious he could be with a giant thing of hummus on a chip a few inches from his mouth.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he said, carefully. It’s what he wanted, but— “I don’t want you to put yourself through unnecessary stress."

From:

endsinafight

"It's absolutely necessary." There was an edge to his voice that wasn't usually there, not with Steve. It was a thinly veiled way of saying his mind was made up and it wasn't going to be changed. For all he knew this was an elaborate trap on Stark's half, to get back at Steve for not telling him that Bucky had killed his parents. He doubted that was the case, but he wasn't going to take any chances, either.

At the end of the day, he only trusted one person entirely, and when it came to keeping Steve safe and alive -- he only trusted himself for that. Besides, he was the reason Steve was injured to begin with.

From:

littleguyfrombrooklyn

Steve shivered, just a little. That determined note in Bucky’s voice—well. He liked the idea of Bucky feeling that strongly about him. He didn’t want Bucky to ever be hard, but if he had to be, directing it toward Steve’s safety was kind of attractive.

“Okay,” he said, smiling. He popped the chip in his mouth and swallowed it down. “Gimme a kiss before we go downstairs? If I’m honest, I’ll be glad you’re there looking out for me."

From:

endsinafight

Relief washed over him when Steve didn't try to argue. He didn't feel up to arguing, especially not when it came to Steve's safety and well-being. The fact that Steve shivered didn't escape him either, but it did give him a moment's pause and he tucked the reaction away in his mind to examine more closely later.

He stepped forward, reaching out and tugging the front of Steve's shirt with his left hand, dragging him closer before pressing his mouth against Steve's. "Always gonna be looking out for you," he murmured against his lips.

From:

littleguyfrombrooklyn

Steve wasn’t going to argue about this. Not when it was something he wanted himself, not when it was something Bucky asserted so strongly. Bucky didn’t demand a lot of things lately—if he was going to do it about this, Steve was going to take him seriously.

He let himself be dragged in, his smile going soft and warm.

“You take good care of me,” he said, not taking his mouth away from Bucky’s. “You always have."

From:

endsinafight

That smile made his insides feel like they were melting, and he was pretty sure that it was going to be his ultimate undoing one day in the near future. He wasn't sure that he cared. He cupped Steve's face in his right hand, brushing his thumb over his jaw before pressing a tender kiss to his mouth once more, tasting the hummus on his tongue.

"Someone has to. Never would look out for yourself," he said pointedly. "What, doing shit like jumping out of planes without parachutes." And yes, Natasha had been the one to tell him about that.

From:

littleguyfrombrooklyn

Steve grinned, unrepentant. “It was the fastest way to get to the water.”

The shiteating broadness of his smile was almost enough to conceal the shadow that passed over his face, as quick as a cloud going over the sun. The truth was, he hadn’t had anything to live for then but the fight. It hadn’t been a good time.

He kissed Bucky again and pulled away, shoveling another bite in his mouth before saying, “Want to get this over with?”

From:

endsinafight

"Yeah, well next time you're going to take a little longer getting down or Sam's gonna have to carry you in his bird suit," he grumbled, expression softening involuntarily at the smile Steve flashed him. Punk.

"Might as well." The sooner they got it over with, the sooner they could get out of there in general. He glanced over at Monet, whistling quietly. She trotted over immediately, ready to escort them, too. He didn't bother with a leash since she really didn't need one. She was great with taking her cues from the two of them. They just didn't risk it when it came to taking her outside. Too many things could go wrong.

From:

littleguyfrombrooklyn

“Next time I’ll take the scenic route, you got it, pal,” he said. It was an easy promise to make. He had things he wanted to see through. He remembered from just a couple days ago, the conviction he was about to die—he hadn’t wanted it. He knew he had so much to live for.

Another shiver passed through him, very different than the one Bucky’s look evoked. Maybe it was some weird sort of cosmic punishment, that moment. For how he used to be.

He shook it off and grabbed the chips and hummus to take with him. He was always pretty hungry, but this healing he sent it into overdrive.

From:

endsinafight

Bucky followed him out the door, faintly amused at how he'd grabbed the food to go. He knew how the serum worked and he knew the more calories that Steve consumed, the faster he'd heal. Monet trotted alongside them and then into the elevator.

"Hello again, Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes. Where would you like to go?"

Bucky ignored the dread that pooled in his stomach at the title, even if it was technically accurate. It evoked images of Zola leaning over him as the doctors and medical team worked on him while he was restrained on a cold table. It evoked images of --

He immediately cut off his line of thought, shutting it down hard and focusing on Steve's response to FRIDAY's question.

From:

littleguyfrombrooklyn

“Tony’s lab please, FRIDAY.”

He tried to keep eating but chips and hummus were not easy to manage with one hand. He frowned, perplexed.

“Sweetheart, could you hold my hummus?” he said, finally.

From:

endsinafight

The elevator started to descend immediately at the request.

Bucky reached out without hesitation, taking the container of hummus from him and keeping it held out so he could dip his chips in as he wanted. "Don't think I've had this before," he told him, eying the stuff. It looked a little gross, but it smelled good, and the little taste he'd gotten from Steve had been good. Then again he'd been kissing Steve so, obviously it had been good.

From:

littleguyfrombrooklyn

Steve smiled at Bucky and dipped a chip. He held it up to the other man. “Want to a bite? It’s good. Lebanese, but everybody seems to eat it nowadays. Since we look like millennials we might as well learn their habits.”

From:

endsinafight

He was pretty sure he'd never had any Lebanese food before, in general, but hell, he'd try anything once. Without really thinking about it, he leaned forward and took the bite right from Steve's fingers, meeting his eyes momentarily. "Not bad," he murmured, chewing slowly to savor the flavor and texture.

From:

littleguyfrombrooklyn

Steve’s eyes went dark as Bucky fed himself from Steve’s hand. He liked that more than he expected.

He fed himself another chip—fast, perfunctory, no longer the real attraction but he was very hungry—and then got another one for Bucky, holding it right at his lips.

“Gotta really get learnt the taste,” he murmured.