Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Bucky had some initial doubts about the intel; it sounded too ready, too well-rounded. But mel displayed the mission parameters and objectives on the screen with a demanding tone that made it clear Valentina Allegra de Fontaine will not accept questions.

Bucky searched his mind for somewhere to lay low. Yelena was clutching a shoulder she just popped back in, and John was walking slowly, blinking through the fog of what could be a concussion. Bucky knew that since the entire mission was a bust, there was no ride prepped to move them away fast enough.

“We could sneak into one of those apartments”, Yelena suggested, “just until morning.”

“No, we can’t”, Bucky said as he pulled John’s arm around his neck and urged him to keep walking.

“The area is not crowded, we’ll find...”

“We don’t do that, remember?”, Bucky interrupted.

They stalked through dimply-lit streets, slowly pulling through the exhaustion. He thought the area was familiar two blocks back, now, as he looks to the diner’s red sign at his right and the street name a bit further ahead, he knows why. It’s not that he frequented these spots, more so that he found out whose apartment is here a few months back and couldn’t stop knowing it.

Feeling like they were out of options, with no way to contact Ava at the watchtower, Bucky stopped walking and sighed. “I know a place,” he said hesitantly, “I have to make sure, though.”

“Of what?”, Yelena asked, furrowing her brows and looking confused.

“Stay here for a bit” he said as he led john into an ally and tried to slowly sit him against the wall. He patted john’s cheek, trying to look into his half-open eyes. “Stay awake john,” he said softly, “I’ll be back.”

“Mhm”, mumbled john, turning to look at Yelena, then leaning his head back.

Bucky fought with himself about coming here long before tonight, and if his hand wasn’t forced right now, he might have kept overthinking it forever. Going through therapy showed him that guilt is a treacherous, contagious thing that infects and alters every other memory. While he still thinks guilt is what he deserves, he learned to question where it comes from before taking on its weight.

After his name was cleared, and Dr Reynor’s list for amends was created, Bucky secretly had her name in the list because he felt like he had to offer up his guilt in hopes to live with it. But actively making the apologies and seeking to amend what he could, proved to him that she was not among the people he “wronged”. Having no grasp on any other reason to come here, Bucky couldn’t stop pushing it back.

Thinking about her had become a habit. Occasionally, he’d find a gap in his memories as the winter soldier, think about what she’d say, and know she’d know how to connect the image. He’d wonder how she doesn’t exist on any HYDRA files, when her presence in his memories of then was so prominent. He’d forcibly stop himself for ever mentioning her. If she’s successfully off everyone’s radar, he thought, she’d be safe. She can just be, something he still found very hard to do himself.

Bucky pressed the bell at the door of apartment 104B. It was quiet at the late hour, so the sound of bare feet padding towards him felt very loud in his ears. The lock clicked, the door slowly opened no further than an inch. He took a breath, preparing himself to say the most reassuring thing he can come up with to avoid startling her into attack mode. He came up with nothing.

The door slowly opened further and revealed a dark-haired woman, wide eyes looking at him like he was the product of a dream. She stood before him in a baggy set of blue plaid pajamas, looking like she was asleep before he decided to interrupt, but was now bewildered enough to be wide awake. Her hair was short. It was curly. He didn’t know it can do that, and it held his attention for more than a moment.

“Your hair...”, he could help but mumble.

“… your hair!”, she said, quietly as if to herself.

Bucky rubbed his hand at the back of his head, suddenly realizing that while he thought of her often enough to find her, she lived away from the chaos and likely hasn’t seen or heard of him in years.

“How did you…” she started but stopped herself. She looked at him intently, seeing the scrapes and bruises, the tears in his vest and scuffed boots. She stepped to the side and tilted her head towards the inside of her apartment.

Bucky looked down at his boots and shook his head subtly. “My umm... I have teammates waiting outside. They’re hurt, we need .. will you..”, he mumbled, cutting himself off just as every sentence started. He didn’t know how to ask anything of her, even for someone else’s sake.

A click from her door lock makes his head snap up. She flipped it forward to keep the door open. “Help them in.” she said, offering a small smile while still staring at his face in wonder, “I’ll set up some first aid”.

Chapter Text

“How do you have a safehouse out here?” Yelena asked after bucky came out to collect them. She walked in behind him, confusion still apparent on her brows. John leaned his hand on the staircase walls, half his focus on steadily carrying his weight up.

“I don’t.” Bucky responded. He felt bewildered by so many thoughts it was hard to save up the energy for when he needed it at the apartment door. How is he to explain things, her, to Yelena and John if he couldn’t wrap his head around it himself. They deserved to know, he thought, they’re walking in with me. Being under Valentina’s thumb, and constantly around each other made them important to Bucky, all of them. He felt most like himself with them, even when all he would do is glare and sigh. He stopped a few steps before the door.

“Listen,” he said, “this isn’t umm... someone I know lives here. She agreed to help.”

Yelena raised an eyebrow. He was sure she was tired and in pain, but curiosity was the surest way to give her energy. “She? Who’s ..”

“And no questions.” Bucky interrupted. “Absolutely none.”

She sputtered and turned to look at John, who looked like he wasn’t listening at all. Bucky knew he pays more attention that he makes it seem. He also knew john wouldn’t judge him for being weirdly protective.

“Sure, Bucky.” John whispered.

Bucky look back at Yelena, hoping to see agreement. He didn’t want anything to change that apartment or it’s resident. No one was supposed to know in the first place. Bucky knew questions cannot be avoided, not with Yelena, but he hoped tonight would be free of them.

Yelena sighed, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. “Yeah ok.” She spoke.

When he arrived at the door, he hesitated. Should he just push it open and walk in? is that what she intended when she left it unlocked? Bucky suddenly felt awkward, unsure how to not be invasive while still leading his team to what he hoped would make them feel safe.

Footsteps came closer again, and the door opened. She looked at his companions with open curiosity, but she didn’t seem to recognize them. “Hello”, she whispered, stepping back in, and gesturing for them to enter. Bucky helped John step in, with Yelena walking behind them, her eyes scanning over the walls of the apartment. It seems she’s collecting questions already, He thought.

“I’ve got a first aid kit on the coffee table,” she said, scanning over their bodies and stopping at Yelena clutching her shoulder stiffly, “some ice would help, hang on”

She closed the front door and walked to a kitchen opposite the Living room.

John sat down on the couch, while Yelena and bucky met at the coffee table, looking through the bandages and supplies. Bucky rummaged through a box looking for any antiseptics or alcohol wipes, the scrapes on his forehead were starting itch.

“I can’t believe you know someone who owns a throw blanket.” Yelena teased quietly, nodding at the folded blanket next to john’s slumped form.

“Yelena,” Bucky sighed.

“And a trinket trey!” She whispered back.

Bucky turned to look at her exasperated.

Yelena looked intently into his eyes and fell strangely silent. “Ok.” She said, turning towards the couch.

He was silently grateful. While Bucky was sure he’d have to explain more at another time, he was uncertain he can explain anything to himself yet. At one point, he’d had to accept that he’d never find her, then he did and had to continuously war with himself about seeing her. He’s already regretting knocking on the door.

“Here,” she walked back into the living room and offered Yelena a large blue ice pack with a soft smile on her face. Bucky knew she could tell this isn’t a regular visit, she wouldn’t overlook injuries, combat suits, techwear, and weapons. Makes him wonder why she wasn’t more defensive, or suspicious.

“Thank you,” Yelena said, placing the icepack on her aching shoulder and leaning back in her seat.

Bucky unfroze his body from behind the coffee table and leaned over john to look at his eyes. “What year is it?” he asked, tilting his chin up for the light to help.

“Pfff... probably 2037?” John said, then smirked at him.

“Okey,” bucky huffed, “Just rest.”

“Are you ok?” she quietly asked. She scanned him, like she was looking for any hidden injury he was ignoring.

“I’m fine.” Bucky said, looking back at her.

Their eyes stayed attached for what felt like a few minutes, bucky found it almost impossible to see the woman he knew before in her. Does she feel the same way when she looks at him, he wondered.

“I’ll get you some water.” She said, looking at all three of them, “and some pain meds.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” John mumbled.

As she walked back out of the room, Bucky took a moment to look around. The dim lighting of the lamps cast yellow arches on tall, full bookshelves, and a set of picture frames on the wall behind the couch. There were no photos in the frames, simply hung there reflecting the wallpaper, and waiting.

Between the living room and the kitchen was a hallway going further in, containing what must be the rest of her life here. Taking a moment to center himself in this space, Bucky had a feeling every piece here was intentional and held some meaning to her.

He walked across the space into the kitchen, where she was filling glasses of water, and looking into the fridge. “You don’t have to…” he said, but seeing a collection of fridge magnets stopped his thoughts. She had cartoon fridge magnets.

She looked back him as she closed the fridge door, smiled softly and leaned her hip on the counter behind her. “How did you find me?” she asked, asking directly while tilting her head.

“You took nothing from Hydra,” Bucky said, walking further in to stand Infront of her, “but everything from their largest bribe links, who couldn’t really complain about it to anyone.”

“I had time and anonymity working for me.” She said, “the soldier’s legend was too large for you to disappear like that.”

“Then there was Steve.” He said, reaching the table opposite her and resting his hand on the surface.

“Yes.”

“But you didn’t … have anyone.”

“I also didn’t have a past self to find,” she whispered, “didn’t mind making a new one.”

He looked intently at her face; she didn’t seem phased by his presence. She must’ve met the soldier a thousand times, but he wasn’t sure he remembered talking with her as Bucky. He wondered why it felt so easy, like he’d known her for a lifetime.

Chapter Text

There were so many questions Bucky wanted to ask her, he didn’t know where to start. What do you do to fill up your days? Do you sleep through the night? How many times do you check your locks? Where do you store everything you remember so it’s not in front of you all the time?

From the moment he saw her face, and stepped into her apartment, he’s been experiencing a new kind to quiet. He wanted so badly to ask her where she got this peace, how she built it, if she could teach him how her expression seems so free, muscles loose and brows untied.

She glanced down and took in the glint of the gold-lined vibranium. Bucky noticed and lifted his arm, palm open, in the space between them. She removed herself from against the counter.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered as she leaned closer, “I never expected to think that.”

“Me neither.” Bucky said. Knowing and remembering the previous arm, he knew it’d be hard to find any beauty in the entire concept. But the Wakandan gift was a blessing he felt he has yet to earn.

“There’s so much I want to ask you.” She said, look back up at him and smiling sheepishly. Her cheeks flushed just slightly then, and Bucky’s eyes couldn’t help but stay there.

“Me too.” he said, brows furrowed, trying desperately to articulate.

“How verbose of you.” She said with breathy giggle.

Bucky smiled and looked down at her hands, which were pinching at the fabric of her pants, almost like they were itching to be placed elsewhere. He stepped closer, softening the stretch of his arm to rest by his side.

“I thought about you,” he whispered, glancing down at her, watching her eyes keenly.

“Me too.”

He chuckled softly, reach his flesh hand out between them but hesitating halfway. Her eyes seemed to flash with anxiety at the movement, then settle softly as she reached forward with her hand and brushed her fingers gently on his knuckles. His inhale sharpened at the sensation. After a moment of looking down at their hands, her smile faded.

“I’m sorry I didn’t look for you, after...” she whispered.

“I asked you not to.” Bucky interrupted, softly shaking his head.

She took a small step closer, he could feel her breath on his neck, and her hand braved the remaining space to close around his wrist gently.  

Yelena held the ice pack against the side of Walker’s head. “My shoulder’s numb anyway,” she said when he protested.

“Is it just me or does this place feel too cozy to be on Bucky’s radar?” John asked, looking sideways at her face.

Yelena huffed and glanced around the living room space, to the floral cushions and the record player. There’s more to this than that, she was sure. Bucky’s combat-confidant image changed rapidly when he decided to bring them here, it felt like a longer, deeper story.

“Old man’s over a hundred,” she said, smirking, “he probably has a stack of long stories we don’t know about.”

Just then she saw a pair of Pointe shoes, blackened with use, hanging on a nail on the side of the bookshelves. What caught her eye wasn’t the torn toe box, it was the shank. It was supposed to support the sole and arch, but this one was lined with a metal plate. The rigidness of such an image brought back an ache. Yelena inhaled sharply and stiffened, the shoes registering as frighteningly familiar.

Chapter Text

Ten years ago (2017)- Shuri’s laboratory

“I’m building an algorithm the size of this castle,” Shuri stated, “I will continuously need your brain activity scans.”

“You do what you have to do, Princess.” Bucky said as he dropped his legs off the padded table onto the shiny lab floors.

He has been awake from his voluntary coma for two months. The trigger words were still intact, so the winter soldier remains a threat. But Shuri explained to him that all the work she had to do while he slept has been done, “no reason why you shouldn’t live regular days while I finish creating the solution.”

“Worry not, frowny wolf,” she grinned at his slumped form, “it’s almost finished.”

Bucky looked up at her, relief softening the strain on his eyebrows.

“Also, I’m a genius.” She added.

“Never doubted that for a second, your majesty.” Bucky chuckled softly.

He put his leather slippers back on, and made to leave, only to stop at the lab threshold. “Princess Shuri?” he began, looking at the bottom of the door frame, hesitating to reveal what’s been brewing in his mind.

“Yes?” Shuri promptly responded as she turned from her sleek worktable and folded her hands at her front.

“There’s something... someone,” he stammered, struggling to put his thoughts together. He looked up at the princess and saw how patiently, openly she was waiting for him, with that signature spark in her eyes. Bucky took a deep breath and tried again.

“When I was on the run in Bucharest,” he explained, “Bucky’s memories were foggy at best, but the Soldier’s ...”

Shuri stepped away from her table, tilting her head in curiosity.

“He remembered someone,” he muttered, “when I put together the memories, I tried to find her, but I had next to nothing to go on, and I was too scared to alert HYDRA of my position”

“You’re wondering if I have the capacity to help?” she guessed.

Bucky grimaced, he felt guilty for even thinking of asking for more help, he barely deserved to be in the same room as the genius princess. “I had to ask,” he rasped, smiling meekly.

Shuri smiled excitedly and turned to her table. Bright blue frames appeared at the touch of her wrist. “Tell me more.”

Three years ago (2024)- Brooklyn

“You need a haircut, Furry wolf!” Princess Shuri giddily yelled through his phone.

“Hello to you too, your royal highness,” Bucky sighs teasingly as he throws his leather jacket on the arm of the only chair in his apartment. He removes his glove and steadies his phone, camera facing him, on the kitchen counter.

He had a monthly agreement with Shuri to check up on his shiny new vibranium arm. As they’ve done about four of these meetings, Bucky knows the topic of the arm will be swiftly concluded to make time for a chat. An essential part of her research, as she explained. She looked as regal as always, in a white fitted top with glittering pearls decorating her hair. She smiled at him through the screen, appearing genuinely excited to be there.

Bucky used to have a hard time believing her sincerity, a hard time believing anyone would look forward to seeing him. But Shuri’s spirit was never deterred by his jaded view of people’s intentions, she remained pure and frighteningly transparent. “Step back a bit, let me look at my baby!” She demanded, wiggling her hand at him.

“I don’t know how that’s an ok thing to call it,” he muttered, flexing his fingers and stepping back so his full left arm was in frame.

“I can call it what I want,” She declared regally and leaned closer, intelligent glint in her eyes scanning over her creation, “any issues to report since last we spoke?”

“Nope,” Bucky answered. “It’s responding perfectly.”

“I’m glad, James.” She looked away to take some notes then smiled sweetly at him.

Warmth covered his nerves as he smiled back; he missed being there, Wakanda. His cottage, with the flappy door curtains, and the unyielding temperament of the goats. Her lab, where colorful tech and instant smiles were the norm, instead of the frigid, emotionless white tiles he associated with labs.

“I have an update on the object of your pining.” The princess informs him in a theatrical whisper.

“My what?!” Bucky chokes breathlessly.

“She changed her address,” Shuri explains, smirking as she looked to her handheld pad. “And bought herself a shop!”

“Wow umm… ok, what kinda’ shop?” He stammered.

“That’s what you’re asking?!” She snapped her narrowed eyes to him, “not her new name? address? Nothing?”

Bucky signed, picked up the phone and leaned back to sit on his armchair. There weren’t many of these updates, and much of them were uneventful compared to what was usually happening around him. She must be living peacefully, quietly, he thought. How would that feel?

“I assume you’re trying to send me the address?” He submits in a low tone.

“Already done, surly wolf!” she exclaimed before he even finished, “Would you go see her?”

He received her giddiness very clearly. They’ve had this conversation before; it came naturally with every “update”. Initially all he wanted was the comfort of knowing she was alive. Ever since he gained awareness of himself and stopped running for his life, she occupied a space in his thoughts that wouldn’t be put aside. And when he told Shuri about it, and found her with the princess’ help, it opened up the doors to even more occupied mental space. He busied himself with amends, court-ordered therapy, and an apartment in Brooklyn that was still so empty the echoes remained a resident. And while he can keep pushing the thought of her back in his own mind, Shuri knows; and Shuri will consistently bring it forward.

Considering she has been helping him keep track of a lost acquaintance for years without him doing anything about it, he didn’t blame her for being impatient. He knew he was delaying the inevitable.

“Come now, James,” She whined, “you can’t possible want to wait longer.”

“I don’t know what I want,” Bucky sighed, resting his head back against the wall and closing his eyes, “what would I even … how do I ..”

“I know the history is triggering conflicting feelings,” Shuri interrupted his stammering, “I also know that what she accomplished with the soldier painted clear instructions for me to help you. She essentially protected Bucky from being completely removed.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” he admits, voice growing soft, “Rationally. but sometimes I see her face when I remember HYDRA, in images of their labs, their needles …”

Shuri’s face softened as she listened intently, aware of the rare honest utterance that was shared.

“There’s nothing rational in nightmares,” he adds, “I am grateful for her when I’m awake, but … in my dreams I’m terrified seeing her is what preludes reliving that damn chair.”

A thoughtful hum echoed from his phone speaker, and they shared the silence for a beat.

“The way I see it,” Shuri voiced, a contemplating look upon her brows, “You need to make memories of her. See her image in a different setting.”

“You might be on to something.” He considered, smiling subtly at his phone screen.

“Who do you think you’re talking to! Of course I am!” She chided him pridefully.

“How about this,” she suggested, “don’t meet her just yet. Visit her new place and take a look.”

Bucky hummed thoughtfully, holding his phone closer to check the address she sent earlier. “What did you say the shop was?”

“I didn’t!” the genius retorts gleefully, “it’s a bookshop.”

Chapter Text

Five months ago

Glen Cove was a part of New York Bucky had never been to, only because it being incredibly unremarkable. Nothing from the city he knew was here to block out the sky, no skyscrapers, barely any building had more than two stories. That made its streets feel more spread out, like the horizon is deceptively further away. Although there were trees covering any unoccupied space and casting shade down on the pavement, Bucky still felt too exposed without tall buildings to steadily hide him.

This wasn’t a small town, or anything rural, or off grid, but it was still subtle and seemed disciplined in its routines. Maybe that’s why it worked for her, he pondered. He wouldn’t have thought to look here of all places. There was a list of possible safe houses, cabins hidden in forests, that he had scribbled into the back of a shopping list, thinking maybe she used them. But none of them came close to this quiet-but-not-too-quiet atmosphere.

Bucky stood by a parking meter adjusting his phone into his pockets as he glanced around. Everything here seemed unhurried, maybe even unconcerned. Eyes glanced over him easily, with no forced kindness or timid weariness. If anyone recognized him by his face, since his arm was covered in leather and glove, they did not show it. 

When he finally decided to see her, he had to work through two hours of research to feel anywhere close to ready. It was drilled into him too long ago that knowledge is a powerful leverage, now he only felt comfortable when he learned as much as he could about a place before putting himself in it. He read about the other businesses on the street, the fire that erupted in the school the previous month, closed roads for construction near the highways, even recent police activity. Building maintenance records informed him about the previous owners of her building, the property deed indicated how the building was purchased including both the shop and the apartment above it.

Bucky shuffles from his car door onto the pavement and strolled towards what he had been postponing for over a decade. His mind went over all the information he acquired about her bookshop, while his chest hitched his exhales with dragging difficulty. It must be too late to get reacquainted, he dreaded, it’s been too long. He shouldn’t have come, shouldn’t have looked for her in the first place.

The coffee shop appeared at his right, with wooden tables set out on a small brick-paved lot that sat beside it, directly across the street from the bookshop. Through the window, he can see the long the queue at the register and the empty indoor tables. At such an early hour, the crowd likely came for coffee before starting the workday and so would clear out in an hour or so. A bell dinged softly from the top of the doorframe as Bucky walked in.

“Hello, sir,” a young girl, name-tagged as Casey, addressed him when he arrived at the register, “what would you like to order?”

“A double shot, please.” He replied, casually watching the street through the windows, eyes flickering over the bookshop’s closed doors and dim lights.

He intended to do recon only, using the early morning opportunity to catch her leaving her apartment door to walk to the bookshop side of the building. It felt cowardly, but it was all he knew how to do, knew he was good at. The nerves dancing at the back of his neck made approaching her almost out of the question.

He picked an outdoor table closer to the wall, beside his was a mother and a toddler having a pastry. He thought he’d stand out too much if he sat isolated. A ping from his phone sounded, muffled by his pocket.

I know you said to behave but should we stop Alexei from falling for a phone scam or is that in the ignore him category? – Ava

They were adults, he sighed, deranged and chaotic but grown-up adults who shouldn’t need him, slightly unstable himself, to keep them in line. How did I even fall into that role, he wondered bitterly.

He can handle it. Going offline until tomorrow. Call if emergency. – Bucky

It’s fine, he reasoned, what’s the worst thing that can happen? Alexei doesn’t have as much control over his credit card as he thinks. They’ll be f-

A second-floor curtain above the bookshop split open.

A light flickered on in the window next to it. Then went off.

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat, because keeping something in his mind for so long got him comfortable with the intangibility of it. But this? This was suddenly very real. She’s alive, moving through her morning right across the street. How bizarre their lives were, to put them here after all this time.

He looked down at his phone and tried to steady the jitters happening at his ankles and knees. In another time, a newspaper would’ve comfortably offered the needed shielding for his position. However, a newspaper nowadays, instead of a phone or laptop, would cause even more suspicion. It was unreasonably difficult to even find someone that sells them.

A door lock on the side of the bookshop clicked twice.

He should’ve brought a laptop and pretended to work behind it.

Hallway lights casted a faint yellow square onto the pavements as the door opened. And there she was.

It was 7:40 am, the sky was cloudy, and the sun was harsh but indirect. He could see her clearer than he was ready for. Strands of her bound dark hair glimmered as if golden when caught by the sunlight. She carried a bag on her shoulder, her coat wrinkled around the straps. Bright color peeked out in flowing waves from beneath the long coat. Pale orange. Something thick in leather binding was grasped under her other arm as she walked forward to unlock the bookshop.

His paper cup sat in his hand, untouched and cooling, as he watched her from the coffeeshop tables. His gaze caught a person offering her greetings as they pass by, and her turning towards them to respond. Their voices were lost in the murmurs of the mother and child beside him, and the insistent thump of his pulse. He saw her and his mind overlapped the pictures.

Bucky remembered almost everything now, less clouded by confusion and terror. He was certain she did not smile at strangers or wear long colorful dresses. What he was seeing was so .. soft, compared to what he possessed in his memories of her. Sharp-collared lab coats and rigid posture. If he were to imagine her face, he would only come up with that calculating, blank face she usually wore around HYDRA operatives.

But she was right there. She was smiling. Her shoulders looked loose, despite carrying bags. Her eyes were calmly focused, not darting everywhere detecting threats or guarding secrets. Her hair was tied back loosely in a low ponytail tucked into her coat collar. Bucky felt thrown off by the uneven match between his memories and this.

When he first met her, she stood a step behind General Dreykov, beside her an older woman wearing a white coat and a severe frown. In that moment, he had barely paid any attention to anything beyond his orders. The Winter Soldier was often displayed to guests, as advertising for his skills and their achievements, and as intimidation.

Back then, she stood at a soldier’s rest, her hands met behind her back. She answered with affirmatives when Dreykov addressed her, gesturing towards his handlers. What was said in that meeting evaded his grasp; his orders weren’t to pay attention. It became apparent much later that HYDRA intended to use chemical mind manipulation developed by Dr Lyudmila Kudrin, Red Room head scientist. It seemed the electroconvulsive shocks weren’t as efficient.

Hydra generals had contracted the red room, eventually agreeing to host her, as research liaison, to apply the research to develop chemical mind control specifically for the Winter Soldier.

A hanging Closed plaque was flipped around, clinking against the glass windows of the bookshop.

Breathing took longer to steady, and he strained to see into the shop through the windows. As he lifted his cup to his mouth, face squinting and pulling back at the lukewarm coffee, a buzz from his phone sounded an obnoxious scape against the table. Bucky turned it over and peeked at the screen.

SAM WILSON

This excursion was expensive; it took up more of him that he anticipated. It was unsettling how conflicted he was about moving from that spot and going back to business. A sigh spilled from deep in his chest and he rose off the chair.

Pick up. We can fight later. I need your help. - SAM WILSON

As much as he’d love to be petty about their recent spats, Bucky didn’t think he’d ever say no to helping Sam Wilson.