#「 dum dum dugan 」 keep you in the dark you know they all pretend. keep you in the dark and so it all began. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mrsalwayswrite · 4 years

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Touch My Hands and Heal Me (BuckyxOFC & StevexOFC)

So just a fun one shot to help me get over some writer’s block. I’ve had this idea in mind for awhile so I’m excited to finally get it out.

Warnings: Some swearing, violence.

Words: 6k

Touch My Hands and Heal Me

This was the last place Steve wanted to be on a Thursday night. Nothing against the bar itself but it had been a hellish week and all he wanted to do was relax in his suite in the Tower and pretend for 5 minutes that he was an average guy.

Which is probably why Sam dragged his ass to this bar.

And of course, Bucky tagged along even though he was just as exhausted. Either from a self-induced guilt trip or his belief in Steve's inability to stay out of trouble, Bucky grumbled but tucked his head down and followed silently. Jerk.

Sam led them down the streets of NYC to a little hole in the wall sports bar an air force friend recommended.

It always amazed Steve how easily people failed to notice him without the suit and shield. Walking down the sidewalk with a vintage Brooklyn Dodgers baseball cap on and a brown leather jacket over jeans, no one looked at him twice. Or Bucky in a black hoodie. Or Sam in a gray Nike long sleeve and ball cap. It was nice that there was somewhat a sense of esoteric, that only on the rare occasion was he swarmed now, or perhaps people were used to him. What it truly made him realize was that most people only really saw and cared about Captain America and not Steve Rogers. No one cared about the little guy from Brooklyn anymore. All they wanted was the glorified icon of patriotism.

He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, willing the tension in his head and muscles to leave. Tony and him had a long meeting with Senator Thaddeus Ross today and when it finally concluded, he fled to the gym to make use of the weight bags. He probably would be receiving a bill from Tony because of all the busted bags he left behind. The man was a genius, you would think he would have reinforced them long ago.

Apparently he needed a drink- according to Sam.

He was pleasantly surprised when he walked through the door of the bar -The Old Guys Tavern- and found it calm. It was a smaller establishment, nestled between a BBQ restaurant and a sporting goods store on a back road. It was a sports bar with several TVs showing different games playing, framed pictures all over the walls of different famous athletes, a few framed mirrors, a jukebox in the back corner near 2 pool tables. A long bar took up half of one wall, across from it several booths and a few scattered tables near the pool tables. It was simple and felt reminiscent of how bars used to be. The lights were dim but instead of feeling like a club -no matter what Natasha said he was NOT doing that again- it gave an illusion of privacy.

He quickly noticed that among the 23 people already there, most were male and either middle aged or elderly, with the leaning towards those with gray hair.

"I thought you two would feel at home here amongst your age group." Sam quipped, scanning the bar with a smile on his face.

"Does that mean we need to find a kindergarten for you?" Bucky retorted.

Steve just shook his head as Sam laughed.

They settled into an open leather booth, a Minnesota Vikings versus Green Bay Packers football game played on the TV across from them.

"You dragged our asses out here, you got first round."

Sam narrowed his eyes at Bucky. "A'ight man, I see how it is. I try to help you have a social life and this is the thanks I get. See if I bring you out again, cyborg."

Steve watched Sam walk up to the bar before turning to his oldest friend, seated across from him. The dark rings under his eyes only confirming how the week had affected him too.

"I'm fine, Steve."

"Your face says otherwise."

The corners of Bucky's lips turned up for a moment. "I'll be fine. It's just…" He sighed heavily, running a hand through his long, dark hair.

"A reminder that we're in the wrong century?"

"Yeah...we shouldn't be here."

"I know, Buck. I know."

3 days ago they had attended Dum-Dum Dugan's funeral and it hit them both hard. He had been the last Howling Commando alive besides Steve and Bucky and it felt like a knife in the heart. They did not just lose a friend. It felt like the closing of a book. Another reminder of something they used to be a part of, something that they knew, was gone. Yet here they were, drowning in the murky waters of the 21st Century.

"Alright boys, here it is." Sam slid a glass bottle of Heineken to both of them while slipping next to Steve in the booth with his own. "You guys made plans for next week yet?"

"Clint said we could visit the farm. Natasha and Wanda will go, I'm certain." Steve said, idly rubbing the label as the condensation dampened his finger.

"Vision will go if Wanda goes." Bucky snorted, taking a sip of his beer.

"You sure it's alright if I leave? I can tell my family that something has come up. Can't promise they won't show up at the Tower with enough food to feed an army though." Sam smirked.

"No, you deserve to go see your family." Steve said, hoping to hide the pain in his voice. "Buck and I will figure out something." He hoped.

Next week was Thanksgiving, the first one Steve and Bucky would be together for since 1944. The one last year, Bucky had been in Wakanda, still working to get the trigger words out of his head. Thankfully Princess Shuri figured it out. Which reminded Steve to contact T'Challa soon to get an update -from his viewpoint- of the revisions of the Accords. Steve did not trust Senator Ross' update from earlier. That man had an agenda and clearly resented the need to keep the Avengers updated.

"I'll make sure to bring some of my mom's pumpkin pies back for you guys. Soon as I tell her the great Captain America ate the whole one last year, she will lose her mind."

Steve blushed and rubbed the back of his neck at the reminder. "I didn't realize it was to share. I thought Pepper bought it for the kitchen."

"Hey! Don't compare my momma's home-made, award-winning pumpkin pie to some cheap-ass, store-bought kind! I should kick your ass for that insult."

"Oh, I want to see that." Bucky deadpanned, keeping his eyes on the TV across from them.

Steve changed the subject before the bickering started. He knew it was mostly in good humor but sometimes it grated on his nerves. "Parker stopped by this morning to try out the new suit Tony made him."

"You still seriously considering using him on the field? He's a kid." Sam questioned.

"He took out both you and Buck at the airport."

"Alright, touché, but still. A damn kid."

"I told Tony if he keeps his grades up and practices hard with us, I won't fight it." Steve smirked. "But if he gets hurt, Tony has to deal with Aunt May."

That made them all chuckle. Once when Peter practiced with them, he had landed wrong and twisted his ankle. From what they heard, you would have thought Peter had lost a limb with how Aunt May berated Tony and fussed over her nephew. It had become a running joke amongst the team.

An hour passed, Steve and Bucky both having to take their turn buying the beers, as they chatted or just watched the games on the TVs. Everything had been going so well, which should have been a flashing beacon that something was going to happen. If this week had been any indication.

One of the guys who had been playing pool with a few others started their way. He was in his forties, slightly overweight, in business attire, looking like he got off work at an office and came out to grab a beer with friends. Steve had noticed him several times over the past hour glancing their way but paid no mind. No one else had approached them or even acknowledged them. Most likely someone trying to figure out how he recognized their faces.

He approached the table and stared at each of them before a toothy, crooked grin appeared. Looking back over his shoulder, he called over to his friends. "It is those goddamn Avenger shits. I knew it. Coming in here like they own the place."

"Hey, back off, man." Sam tried to keep his cool but Steve could see that the guy had gotten under his skin. "We are just here for a beer, minding our own business."

"You know, I bet all those stunts you pull, the "world-saving" and shit, it's all fake. You pretend, keep the masses happy and feeling protected while you just live like kings off government money. Yeah…I know the truth."

Before any of them could respond to the guy, about how very wrong he was, a new voice from the bar spoke up.

"Chuck, quit trying to start a fight. They could kick your ass without breaking a sweat."

The guy -apparently Chuck- glared over his shoulder at the speaker. "Shut up. No one asked you to get involved."

A woman probably mid twenties slid down off the bar stool she was sitting on and stalked their way. Steve can't help but watch her, feeling as if a hurricane was approaching. Her honey blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her hazel eyes stared defiantly at Chuck. She wore a loose white t-shirt with some kind of symbol on the front and black leggings that highlighted all her curves and showed off her long legs. Combat boots and a dark leather jacket completed the look.

"Just cause you're still pissed doesn't mean you gotta start shit. Now, leave them alone, you're bothering them."

"We will leave. We didn't come here to start trouble." Steve injected, glancing between the man and woman standing at the end of the table.

She turned slightly to pin him with a pointed look that had him regretting his words and shutting his mouth. She turned back to the guy -Chuck- and they glared at each other for several long, awkward, tense moments before he huffed and took a step back.

"Bitch," he muttered but glared at her still, "probably going to let them all fuck you like the whore you are."

As soon as the last word spewed out of his mouth, she hit him with a right hook that left him half sprawled on the table beside them.

"Dee, no fighting. God, girl, get out of here!" The bartender called over, clearly exasperated as he ran his hand through his white hair.

"Sorry, Ray." She shrugged unapologetically. Flexing the fingers on her right hand, she turned back to Steve, Bucky and Sam. "Have a good night, boys."

Steve watched her walk out of the bar. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Chuck get up, spitting blood on the floor, with the help of one of his friends. He looked like he wanted to say something but his friend quickly dragged him back to the pool tables.

Perfect. Steve was not in the mood for a fight.

"Think she's ok?" Bucky was staring at her retreating form also, even when she disappeared from view. He turned back slowly to meet their confused looks. "That hit...might have broken something."

They sat in silence for a second before sliding out of the booth and heading out.

The air had a winter's bite to it but not yet unbearable. Although it took a lot for Steve to feel really cold now. Those rare moments always brought up painful memories of icy waters and darkness. Something he prefered not to think about.

They managed to glimpse her before she turned down another street. Simultaneously they started to jog to catch up. Thankfully not too many people on the sidewalk stopped to stare at three huge guys casually jogging at 10pm at night in jeans.

"Hey yo! Dee!" Sam called out as they turned down the street.

She stopped, slowly turning around to watch them approach with a single eyebrow raised. "You boys lost?"

"Naw, we wanted to see if you're alright. That was quite a punch."

Thank God for Sam's ability to always talk. Steve never thought he would be glad for that one day but right now he was. Staring at her, he felt tongue-tied.

She smiled, holding her hand up and wiggling her fingers. "I'm fine. Not a big deal."

Steve could not help but notice her nails were painted a shimmery dark blue.

"Why did you do it?" They all looked at Bucky with his hands in his pockets as he spoke. "I mean, you didn't have to stand up for us. Hell, he has to weigh twice what you do. So...how come you got involved?"

"I don't like bullies."

"Ah shit, she's the female version of you, Steve." Bucky bemoaned, dragging a hand down his face.

She giggled, the sound rich and feminine, and Steve could not help but smile in response.

"I'll take that as a compliment, Sergeant Barnes."

"Call me Bucky, please."

"Ok, Bucky."

"I guess you already know Steve and I." Sam said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Your name Dee?"

She seemed to hesitate for a second, looking back over her shoulder. "Lydia."

"Nice to meet you, Lydia. Thanks for helping out back there."

"Oh believe me, it was my pleasure. I've been wanting to hit him for a while. I doubt Ray will let me back though."

"Cause you hit a rude customer? I'd think you're doing him a favor." Sam snorted.

"Ah no, I may have hit Chuck's cousin last week...broke his nose."

The three stared at her in varying degrees of amusement and shock.

"What? He was bad mouthing the New England Patriots. Tom Brady is my boy."

"Shit, doll, you're something else." Bucky laughed.

"Thank you. Now it's lovely to meet you all but I need to go. Tootles."

"Wait!" Steve was not sure why he stopped her except that some part of him was not ready to lose her yet. He took a step closer. "Where are you headed?"

She raised an eyebrow, clearly wondering what he was getting at. "Home."

"Let us walk you. It's the least we can do."

"It's not that far, I promise. I'm sure you superheroes have better things to do. I'll be fine."

"Come on, Lydia, we got you kicked out. Let us make sure you get home safe, yeah?" Sam joined the petition.

She chewed her bottom lip, eyes scanning between the three of them before letting out a sigh. "If it makes you feel better."

----------

When Bucky went to the bar with Steve and Sam, his expectations were to keep an eye on Steve, taunt Sam and just pretend that he had actually slept the past five days instead of pacing or staring at a wall all night.

Watching a beautiful dame punch a guy to defend them… this night got a whole lot more interesting.

The four of them walked down the sidewalk together, Steve and Bucky behind Sam and her...Lydia.

"So, you know who we are and what we do," Sam said casually, "tell us about you."

"Well I get into fights at bars and I watch football. I'm not that interesting."

Bucky could not help but snort. A shared glance with Steve confirmed his own amusement.

"Alright. Who taught you to fight? You got a mean swing that clearly shows some training." Sam continued.

"My brother." She shrugged. "What were you guys doing out? I would think you'd have booze at the Tower or be more likely to go to a high-class, expensive bar instead of Ray's little place."

"Naw, we just wanted somewhere quiet and out of the way. Besides, if we break out any booze, Tony always somehow senses it and magically appears."

She laughed, and Bucky felt his heart lighten at the sound.

"Maybe we were hoping to meet someone as beautiful as you, doll." Bucky was not sure where the words came from, but for a moment he felt like the Bucky from the 40s who knew how to charm and flirt. A forgotten piece of him buried beneath the decades of trauma endured under HYDRA'S thumb.

She spun around to look at him, still walking backwards with a smirk and teasing glint in her eyes. "I'm far from beautiful but I'm more than happy to pretend for you."

He chuckled, he could feel Steve's curious eyes on him but he paid no mind. It felt good to remember this piece of him, to remind himself he was more than a damaged person, even for only a minute. "Dollface, you just gave the best right hook I've ever seen a dame throw. I'm certain that is the sexiest thing I've seen in a long time."

Laughing, she paused momentarily to slide to his side and kiss his cheek. Her arm slipped through his and they continued walking like nothing had happened.

Except something had happened.

With her touch, it felt like all his senses tripled in intensity. Her kiss...such an innocent kiss yet it set his blood on fire and brought out a warmth in his bones that even HYDRA could not freeze out.

"You go around kissing strangers often?"

She winked at Steve. "Only the cute ones."

"She called you cute, man!" Sam laughed.

Bucky pretended to scoff. "Cute...I'm not cute. Take that back." He nudged her with his elbow, thankful she was on his right side.

"Would you prefer devilishly handsome?"

"Hey, if the shoe fits…" Bucky shrugged, trying to keep a straight face. Steve's chuckling almost broke it. His blue eyes met her hazel and he realized he was glad they had met. She was beautiful in a girl-next-door kind of way- Cupid's bow lips, button nose, soft features. She was tall for most women, about 5' 10" even in just combat boots. Yet it was the energy around and within her that made her stand out. She felt like joy...she radiated life...there was a sparkle in her eyes that had not been tainted by the evils of this world yet.

"Pain in the ass also fits." Steve muttered, walking on Lydia's other side.

"Punk."

"Jerk."

She slipped her other arm through Steve's. "I'm pretty sure 'trouble' is the best description."

"Now that I can attest to." Sam said, leading the group.

They walked another block in the same formation. Lydia between Steve and himself, her arms looped through theirs. They chatted, flirted and teased easily, like they had known each other their whole lives. It was odd but Bucky was not complaining. It felt good. He found himself hoping this was not the last time they would see her. The warmth infusing itself into him from her touch was addictive. Her laughter and smiles made the darkness in his mind slowly fade. If the shared looks between him and Steve just over her head meant anything, he knew Steve felt the same way.

"My apartment is just down the street. You don't have to walk me to the door."

"Trying to get rid of us?" Steve asked.

She just laughed and shook her head. "When did I become so lucky to have three such handsome gentlemen to escort me home?"

"When you slugged a guy to defend us." Bucky caught her eye and winked. "You're stuck with us now."

"I'm not complaining."

One moment they all are laughing and talking like the best of friends. In the next moment, everything changed.

A shot rang out.

Bucky could feel the bullet whizz between his and Lydia's head.

Shit.

In a split second all three guys went into defense mode. Steve grabbed Lydia, shielding her with his body as he pushed her against a brick wall in a side alley. Immediately, Bucky and Sam flanked him on either side. Without a word, Bucky pulled out a pistol for both Steve and Sam, handing them over, then retrieved one for himself. He knew after this, Steve would criticize the amount of weapons on him for just a run to the bar. Bucky did not plan on sharing about the amount of knives on him additionally. He did not want to worry Steve that much. The less he knew in this case, the better.

His eyes scanned the nearby rooftops. The trajectory of the bullet showed the shooter was somewhere above them. At least that narrowed his search. Somewhat. On the other hand, he doubted they acted alone. Why give away their position? Did the shooter just have terrible aim? Were their others? Why the hell did this have to happen now?

His breathing slowed, senses on high alert, eyes trained for any movement. He waited, listening intently for any sign of back-up. Quickly peeking around the corner, he noticed the side road they were on was deserted. It consisted of several closed stores on the side they had been walking on and across the street was apartment complexes. Logically there should have been someone walking around at this time. It was NYC, there was always someone awake. His eagle-eyes scanned around them, searching desperately for wherever that bullet originated from. Or for the others bound to be laying in wait somewhere around here.

He hated being shot at.

"Sniper, my ten o'clock. Apartment building, top floor, third window in." He reported, glancing behind him at the others after another peek around the side.

Sam faced the opposite way, keeping an eye on the other side of the alley, but nodded at Bucky's report.

Steve hovered over Lydia, who was crouched on the dirty ground. His eyes swept over the area and the switch from casual Steve Rogers to righteous Captain America was evident. Most likely wishing he had his shield.

"HYDRA?"

"Not sure." Bucky replied, grip tightening on his pistol. Of course when they were having a great time, those bastards would show up. Damn it. "You alright, doll?"

"Yea...yeah." She stuttered out, still crouched underneath Steve. Her eyes were wide but clear, breathing fast but manageable. His opinion of her increased. Although she seemed frightened, she was not panicking. A reaction most common in civilians being shot at for the first time.

Steve spoke to Bucky. "Think you can get him?"

"Not here."

"Go. We got your back."

Before he moved, a hand gripped his hoodie, surprising him. Following the hand that was holding him in place, he met her eyes.

"Be safe." She murmured, hazel eyes meeting his stormy blue in earnest.

"Just for you." With a wink, he slipped out the alley, keeping to the shadows and moved silently as a ghost.

It did not take long for him to get into position. He only wished he had his sniper rifle. Climbing some rickety, metal stairs attached to the back of a store, he swiftly placed himself across from the sniper on a rooftop. If he had more time, he would have preferred to go into the apartment and silently kill the sniper, but for some odd reason he felt like he was working against the clock.

Breath in.

Breath out.

Breath in.

Breath out.

Breathe in.

Bang.

Holding the smoking pistol in the direction of the apartment, he waited. There did not seem to be any further movement. He wondered if he should go investigate, just to confirm. God, if this was HYDRA, he did not want to leave any civilians without protection. With the gunshots fired, he figured someone would have called the cops by now. Hopefully they would be useful with the civilians.

Racing back across the rooftop, he flew down the stairs ready to confirm the sniper's death. It was then a new sound drifted to him…and he bolted towards it. Heart racing within his chest.

Please no. He begged silently.

He turned the corner to see where the fight really was. The sniper had only been a diversion. Something to force them into the intended alley.

They had played right into the enemy's hand.

Twelve guys in all black, faces covered, made the crowded alley even smaller. One was on the ground lying still, a pool of blood growing beneath his chest. Three were cornering Sam, taking turns attacking him with batons. Six were actively fighting Steve, trying to take him down using tasers, yet they were never able to subdue him fully. Two had Lydia between them, both gripping one of her arms each as she struggled and thrashed to escape looking like a wildcat.

Please no.

Bucky threw himself into the fight, fear and rage pouring into his blood to fuel him. He tackled one of the men cornering Sam, a knife slipping in between the man's helmet and Kevlar, blood spurting from his neck. Bucky rolled off him, and in two strides jabbed a knife into the back of the knees of one of Steve's attackers. The man dropped, howling and unable to stand. Another swipe and kick brought another man under his knife, blood oozing where a kidney was.

"Lydia!" Steve cried, throwing one of his attackers against the brick wall behind him.

The two men were trying to manhandle her into a doorway but her twisting, kicking and flailing made it difficult.

Bucky threw his bloodied knife into the thigh of one of them. The man stumbled, almost dropping Lydia, who cried out at the harsh treatment. Before the other man could raise his own pistol, Bucky grabbed it with his metal hand and crushed the end. Pure rage filled him at the thought of them trying to take her. He punched the man, now holding the useless gun, in the side of the head with his metal arm. The man dropped like a rock. The pistol bounced on the ground when it fell from his hand.

In a fluid motion, Bucky yanked the knife out of the other man's thigh and kicked him in the head. The man's head rocked back further than humanly possible with a cracking sound.

Silence hung over the alley after Steve and Sam knocked out or killed their attackers. Bucky stood there for a long moment, surveying the carnage around him, and trying to steady his breathing. His hands shook slightly. Blood was splattered on his black hoodie and jeans. It had been so easy -too easy- to take the lives of those men. Even though he did it to protect Steve, Sam and Lydia...his hands never felt clean. Would he ever be clean? Would he always be a monster?

"Bucky?"

His rage evaporated at the soft whimper of his name.

"It's ok, doll. I got you." He pulled her into his arms, away from the bodies of the men who tried to take her. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her face buried in his chest while his own arms held her close. She trembled but if it was from fear or fading adrenaline, he was unsure. Murmuring soothing words to her, he ran a hand up and down her back in comfort.

Why did this have to happen tonight?

He glanced back over to see the spread of bodies on the ground, all wearing black clothing that looked vaguely military. Nothing like what HYDRA usually wore. Sam was on the phone, probably calling the fellow Avengers for clean up and to scout the area. Steve was stepping over the downed men, coming to his side.

"Are you hurt?"

Bucky shook his head, his eyes scanning over his best friend. "You good?"

"Yeah, she ok?"

Lydia turned her head, reaching an hand out to place on his forearm. "I'm fine...thank you."

Steve patted her hand on his arm but did not remove it. He glanced around once more before meeting Bucky's eyes. "This doesn't...these men don't seem like HYDRA."

"I noticed. Wrong weapons and fighting tactics. More like mercenaries."

"Mmmm." He rubbed the back of his neck before looking at Lydia, still in Bucky's arms. "They seemed pretty intent on taking you. Any reason why?"

That question had itched at Bucky too. HYDRA would be more interested in taking himself and Steve. She had been the focus of this attack. He shuddered to think what would have happened if they let her walk home alone.

"No...no...I don't recognize them."

"It was a long shot. Well I think you should stay with…" suddenly Steve's eyes widened and he recoiled. A second later, blood soaked his white t-shirt in the middle of his chest.

Then the sound of a muffled shot rang out in the alley.

Bucky glanced over to see one of the downed men Steve had been fighting, on his knees, pistol extended. He staggered to his feet and took off back on the side road.

"Sam!" Bucky cried, pointing to the escaping man.

The Falcon did not hesitate. He raced after the man, a snarl on his face, eyes determined.

Turning back to his best friend, disbelief clouded his mind as he saw all the blood soaking Steve's shirt.

No.

NO!

Steve placed a hand on his chest, a dazed look on his face as he pulled it back and watched the blood drip off his skin. Ever so slowly, he dropped to his knees, still staring at his hand.

"No, no, no! Damn it, Steve! NO!" Bucky moved to his side, practically ripping the leather jacket off Steve's shoulders and tearing the t-shirt in two to see how extensive the injury was. The bullet had entered Steve's upper back, almost hitting his spine and exited the middle of his chest, leaving a gaping hole. Blood poured out, leaving trails of red on Steve’s torso.

"Sorry, Buck."

"No, no. Don't you start that shit. You'll be fine. Damn super soldier shit is good for something." He tried to staunch the blood flow with Steve's ripped shirt but the training in the back of his mind told him it was useless. His lungs would be filling with blood now. It would take a miracle to save him. Yet Bucky did not stop his first aid. He refused to let his best friend die. He couldn't...he could not live without Steve. They had only just found each other again. He couldn't...God, please no, not Steve...he had to live. Bucky was not ready to be alone again.

Lydia slipped to Steve's other side. Gently she took his bloody hand and clasped it between her own. Tears coated her cheeks as she watched.

"Buck…"

"No, stop talking. Everyone is on their way. Sam called them. It'll be fine."

"I need you to…"

"Nope, don't even start trying that speech."

Steve rolled his eyes, blood beginning to taint his lips. "Jerk."

"Punk."

"Steve, look at me." Lydia stated. Both soldiers watched her, her commanding tone unable to ignore. "You're going to be alright but you'll still need to rest for a while, ok?" She glanced over at Bucky, a fire burning in her eyes. "Hold him steady."

What?

He did not have time to question her before the strangest thing happened.

Lydia leaned forward and pressed her lips to Steve's bloodied ones. One of her hands cradled the back of his head, as her kiss deepened. Even on the brink of death, Steve had no problem reciprocating. His bloodied hand cupped her cheek, leaving behind a stain on her skin. Their lips moved as if they had done this before...no hesitation...no awkward fumbling… What started off as a soft caress was turning into something more heated.

Bucky momentarily felt like a voyeur and was beyond confused. Steve should be saving his breath, not exerting himself. Damn that looked like a great kiss though.

The kiss lasted only five seconds and when they separated, both were breathing heavy like it had been far longer. Her lips were tainted red now, but her eyes shone brighter like starlight caught in her irises.

She looked at Bucky, tears streaming down her cheeks unashamedly. "Take care of him." Quickly she leaned over Steve, grabbing a handful of Bucky’s hoodie, and gave him a hard kiss on the lips before standing up and dashing away.

"What….LYDIA!" Bucky yelled after her, watching her run down the alley and turn onto another street. Part of him wanted to chase after her and demand answers but a cough from Steve diverted his attention.

"Hey, it's ok. They will…."

"Look." Steve interrupted, motioning at Bucky's hand.

He glanced down to see scraped knuckles, probably from when he tackled one of the men. Not a big deal. The serum would heal them within a day. Yet they were healing...immediately...right before his eyes. Within seconds, they looked completely normal, only Steve's blood marred them.

What?

Immediately, Bucky pulled the torn shirt from Steve's chest, gaze locked onto the exit wound that would surely kill his best friend. A gush of blood should have resulted from the compact being removed from the wound, blood allowed to flow freely once again. Yet nothing happened. Dried blood caked his chest turning a dark red but there was nothing bright red...nothing fresh.

"Holy shit."

In the next moment, Bucky felt as if the world tilted off its axis.

The wound slowly began to heal. Muscle and skin grew and reattached. The once graying complexion that Steve wore was returning to a healthy pink. His breathing deepened, not short, rapid breaths of dying lungs. Steve's blue eyes stared at Bucky, mouth gaping open. Curious and a bit frantic, Bucky peeled the shirt off Steve's back to see the entry wound. Both holes, once profusely bleeding and killing his best friend now looked like they were weeks healed. Some redness around the sites and fresh skin sealing the holes but still tender.

WHAT?!?!

"Steve…." He did not know what else to say. His oldest friend, his best friend, his brother...he was dying...and Bucky could not save him. It was his worst nightmare come to pass. The very thing he dreaded most. Now though…

Steve stared back at him wide-eyed before turning his head to look down the alley where Lydia fled. "She healed me….she saved…" He looked back at Bucky. "Who is she?"

"I'm not sure…"

"We need to find her."

Steve started to get up but Bucky pushed him back down. "You were just shot, punk. She said to rest."

"We can't let her get away! What if more of these mercenaries find her?!"

"We'll look for her. Wait till the others get here. I'll go with Sam." Bucky held Steve's gaze until he relented, slumping back onto the unforgiving, concrete ground.

The sounds of the city enveloped the quiet of the alley- car horns, sirens blaring, someone singing loudly the next street over. The two sat there, waiting and thinking. Both of their minds struggling to fully comprehend what just happened but desperate to chase after her.

"You just want another kiss, huh?"

Steve chuckled, rubbing a hand over his chest and wincing. "That was some kiss. It felt like electricity going through my veins."

Bucky thought of his own quick peck and how it felt like a shock hitting him. "Yeah. That's some dame."

"Find her, Buck. I don't…" He sighed.. "It felt...no, she felt right."

All Bucky could do was nod. He prayed she stayed safe until they could find her. Something in his gut told him they needed her. He looked down the alley once more, wondering where she went and who she really was.

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #Bucky Barnes #bucky/ofc #steve rogers #steve/ofc #Sam Wilson #one shot #probably #mzwrites

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imaginetonyandbucky · 6 years

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Please, please, a continuation of Tisfan Christmas fanfic about Tony and Bucky building a snowman and then later meeting while they're adults.

A/N: The snowman fic was not originally posted to IT&B and was, in fact, part of my stocking stuffer Christmas series. Because of that, and that both stories are relatively short, I posted both of them, here for you. -Tisfan

Do you want to Build a Snowman

Tony Stark was seven and his nanny had been dismissed at thebeginning of the Christmas holidays. He was going off to boarding school inJanuary, and he didn’t need coddling, and looking after anymore.Which meant that Ana Jarvis, the cook, had been the one to catch him leavingthe house after it had just snowed nearly eighteen inches overnight, in onlyjeans and a sweater.

It wasn’t her responsibility, but Ana had taken care to get Tonyinto his snowsuit and boots and proper mittens and a hat. If she had privatethoughts about a seven year old going out in the snow by himself on the Stark’svast properties, she kept them to herself, but she also tied her own scarf withits decorative buttons, around Tony’s neck to keep him warm.

Tony ran off into the snow, whooping with delight.

He was just finishing rolling the second snowball for a snowmanand trying to figure out how to lift it up onto the first one, when a voiceasked him, “Whatchoo doin’?”

Tony huffed, blowing a plume of condensation out of his mouth.“What does it look like I’m doin’?” The newcomer was a little older thanTony, taller. Thin. With dark hair that curled around his face, stuffed under asilver snow hat with a red star on it.

“Either makin’ a snowman that you’re too little t’ lift, or makin’a snowfort wrong,” the other kid said.

Tony wanted to cross his arms and give his best Howard Stark glareto the other boy, but he’d already figured out that the snowsuit wouldn’t lethim cross his arms. “It’s a snowman. I c’n lift it, I just need a plane.”

The other boy didn’t look impressed. “You’re gonna airlift asnowman?”

“No, no, a plane… a,” Tony said, gesturing, holding one hand at anangle. “A flat board. Don’t you do ramp and friction ‘speriments at yourschool?”

“No,” the other boy said. “But I know where you c’n get someboards. Wanna show me? I’m Bucky, by the way. Th’ gardener’s son. Who are you?”

“Tony,” Tony said, following the other boy back to the gardenshed.

They ended up making two trips to the garden shed to get thesnowman’s middle up and on the base, and then Bucky picked Tony up to put thehead in place. Bucky donated his hat to the cause of the snowman’s clothing,and Tony wrapped Ana Jarvis’s scarf around its neck.

The boys spent the rest of the holidays together, inseperable fromas soon as Ana could get Tony in his snowsuit until Jim called Bucky in fordinner. They made snow forts and talked about television shows. Tony broughtsome of his model cars outside and they made a race track in the snow.

“I have t’ leave for school in the morning,” Tony told his friend,fighting tears. Howard would probably slap Tony if he saw his son whining aboutsome servant’s boy.

Bucky nodded. Sniffling. “Gonna miss you,” he said. “You’re mybest friend.”

Tony threw himself into Bucky’s arms, letting tears fall. “You’remy only friend.” That counted as best, right?

“Here, here,” Bucky said. He snuggled his snow hat onto Tony’shead. “Take it. Take it with you. An’ I’ll be thinkin’ about you, okay?”

A snip of Tony’s multitool and Tony freed one of Ana’s buttons offher scarf. She’d never miss it. “Yeah, you too.”

Bucky closed his hand around the little heart-shaped button. “Bye,Tony.”

“Bye.”

(More below the cut)

It’d been a while since Tony had been home. His parents hadrequired his presence at a few holiday dinners, but he usually managed to comein, stay just long enough to eat dinner and pretend, and then he was goneagain.

Now, the house was his. Everything was his.

The house was huge. And empty. Tony didn’t want the place. Jarvishad already made arrangements for the staff to work elsewhere. Tony’d justfinished school, and he was going to go out to California for a while. As farfrom New York and memories as he could manage.

It was snowing. Tony looked out the big back window at the lawn,already six inches deep. He grabbed his coat and a battered hat from the box,silver, with a red star. He ran his fingers over it, smiling, a little. He’dfinally left it at home, when he was about fifteen and it didn’t fit anymore,and he hadn’t seen Bucky for eight years.

One of the few good memories he had from this old place.

“Wonder what ever happened to him,” Tony said to himself. Hisvoice echoed oddly in the big house.

Outside, then. He stuffed his hands in his pockets; he didn’t havegloves or lined pants. He wasn’t even sure what he was looking for, outside.Peace, maybe.

His feet carried him, as if on automatic, to the spot where thesnowfort had been. Of course there was nothing left of it. Further on, to thegarden shed. It was older, but still sealed against the weather. Of course itwas. Howard wouldn’t have allowed anything to be ramshackle on his property.

There was a light on, in the old gardener’s house. Tony frowned.All the staff was supposed to be gone.

He got about halfway up the walk toward the tiny cottage and thedoor banged open. The most beautiful man Tony had ever seen was surrounded by awarm glow of light. Dark hair curled around his face, brilliant blue eyeslooked up at him. A luscious mouth, just made for kissing, dropped open inshock. “Tony?”

Tony’s hand went up to the hat he wore, stretched tight over hishair, too small for him by half. “Oh, my god. Bucky.”

“Are you… are you real?” Bucky reached out, hesitated. One handed,the other stayed by his side as if he couldn’t move it.

“What else would I be?” Tony took a few steps closer, and thenBucky threw one arm around Tony’s neck and Tony was holding him.

Bucky sniffled and pulled back, just enough to look down intoTony’s face. “I dunno, I hallucinate sometimes,” he admitted. “PTSD, after…well, after.” He jerked his chin to the left, indicating his unmoving arm.“Prosthetic. Useless, decorative thing. Keeps people from starin’. What thehell are you doin’ here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Tony said. “Jarvis told me allthe staff had arrangements made.”

“Yeah, I…” Bucky licked his lips. “My dad’s been gone a while now.He died a few years back, but the new gardener didn’t want this place, so hisstuff’s just been here. I been living in Brooklyn after I came back fromAfghanistan. I came back to clean it up. What about you, what are you doing,now that all this is all gonna be closed up.”

“Oh, my god,” Tony said, staring. Bucky didn’t know. “Well,I came to get some of my stuff, too. I’m moving out to California for a while.”

“Yeah? Bet it’s nice out there.” Bucky finally let go, and Tonyfelt the loss of his warm solidness immediately.

“I like it,” Tony said. “I got some friends, some ideas. It’ll begreat.”

“Glad you’re real,” Bucky said. “I was lookin’ through my dresserand I found this, and then… there you were. Seemed too much like a flashback orsomething. But you’re here, Tony. That’s great! I’m glad you’ve got somethingto go out for. There’s… there’s nothing for me, you know.”

This, Tony discovered, was abutton. Heart shaped and faded pink with age. Bucky had it cupped in his handlike it was a precious treasure.

“Why… why don’t you come with me,” Tony offered, spontaneously.“Spend some time in the sun? Relax for a while. Vacation… it’ll be fun.” Hereached out and closed Bucky’s hand gently, leaving his fingers on Bucky’swrist. “You’re not my only friend anymore, but you’re still the first one Iever had.”

Bucky’s smile lit up the sky. “Sure, that… that sounds fun, Tony.I’d like that.”

“Come on up to the house,” Tony said, tugging at him a little. “Wecan raid Howard’s wine cellar and get caught up.”

Bucky blinked and then… “Oh, shit,” he said, stuttering to a halt.“You’re… you’re Anthony Stark.”

“Yeah, but don’t let it go to your head that your best friend is abillionaire. I’m still the guy who made a snowfort wrong.”

It Doesn’t Have to Be A Snowman

Bucky had no idea what he was doing.

He finished packing his father’s few things that had been leftbehind in the old garden house. He didn’t even know what to do with them. Buckydidn’t have a real home anymore; he’d been bumming sofa space with his old Armybuddy, Steve, and technically it was Steve’s boyfriend’s house. That Sam hadinherited from his mother. Sam hadn’t redecorated, either, so the whole thingwas pale yellow and soft green and covered with lacy… stuff.

It was warm, and dry, and that was about all Bucky could say aboutit. But he was having trouble holding down a job and his benefits package,while generous, didn’t really allow him to live in New York City on his own.

He didn’t even have a place to store all his dad’s crap. He neededto go through it, but the head of house had given him not terribly much noticeto get it out. Bucky slanted his eyes at the man who was leaning in thedoorway. He supposed that the new head of house actually had given him moretime.

He kept checking as he dumped stuff, one handed, into the boxes.Tony had offered to help, once, and Bucky’d given him the brush off. Buckyhated it when people helped him out of pity. It just made everything hurt more.He also hated when the people he was speaking to weren’t real. Sometimes theyweren’t. He’d spent months talking to Dum Dum Dugan before Steve had finally takenhim aside and reminded him that Dum Dum had died. That the whole fucking squadhad died, aside from him, and Bucky.

That Sam had come with his partner, Riley, and rescued their blownup asses. And that Riley hadn’t lived through it, either.

That Steve and Sam had bonded over mutual grief and trauma.

And that Bucky… had not.

He had also brushed Tony off for help because Bucky wasn’tpositive that Tony was real.

The kid that Bucky barely remembered? Who’d been, what? Seven,eight? The last time Bucky’d seen him, some fifteen or so years ago?

“What’ve you been doing?” Bucky finally asked him, when thesilence was too thick and too full of nothingness to bear any longer. Even ifTony wasn’t there, it didn’t matter.

“I… uh, went to boarding school,” Tony said. “Top of my class,graduated when I was fifteen. Went on to college, the next year. Two yearsafter that, I had my bachelors and was starting on my first doctorate.”

“First,” Bucky scoffed.

“I have three,” Tony said. “Not to brag. I’m pretty smart. For allthe good it’s done me.”

“Should I be callin’ you Doctor Stark, then?”

“Not unless you want a snowball upside the head,” Tony answered.“You know, I can have movers come up and pack this, if you want.”

“I don’t even know what I’m gonna do with all this shit,” Buckysaid. “Sell it, if any of it’s worth anythin’. Ain’t like I got money for adamn storage unit, and I’m fuckin’ livin’ on my friend’s sofa.”

“No, you’re coming to California with me,” Tony said. “Come on,leave it. Leave it. I’ll get J to pack it up and take it over to Stark Tower.You can figure out what to do with it when you get back.”

“I…”

“Whatever you’re going to say, don’t,” Tony said. “It’s not aninconvenience, and you’re not bothering me, and you’re not leeching off me.We’re friends, right? You come out to Malibu, I can show off my new house, andwe’ll have some fun, right?” And damn, but Tony sounded so lost, so concerned,and just a little bit on the needy side.

The man had just lost his parents, too, which Bucky keptforgetting.

“New house?”

“Yeah,” Tony said. “I built it. All the best architects said itcouldn’t be done, couldn’t built there, the cliff’s too unstable. So I… mightainvented a new style of support structure.”

“Pretty smart, for all th’ good it’s done you,” Bucky parrotedback. “God, you have to be real, I don’t reckon I could make up nothin’ asfabulously ridiculous as you, Tony Stark.”

“More nightmare than dream, almost everyone would say,” Tony said.“But you might be in the chosen few.” His phone pinged and he checked it.“Great, great. Leave this here, come on. I mean, technically, we can’t be late,the whole point of my having my own plane is that it can’t leave without me,but it’s cold here and I hate this house and I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Bucky looked around the only place he’d ever really belonged.Memories of his dad, memories of the boy he’d once been. Just ghosts now. LikeDum Dum. Everything was ghosts and Bucky was tired of it.

“Yeah, you ain’t even close to what my nightmares look like,Tony,” Bucky said. He shut the box decisively.

It didn’t matter, not anymore.

He’d figure out what to do when he got back.

“Let’s get out of here,” Bucky agreed.

“Ready when you are, snowflake,” Tony said.

They went through the main house and Tony turned off all thelights, leaving the mansion in darkness, the furniture covered in drop clothes,like more phantoms. Tony grabbed a crystal bottle filled with some dark liquorand two glasses. He handed them off to a stocky man near the front door.

“Happy, this is Bucky, he’s coming with us,” Tony said. “Bucky,this is Happy. My driver.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” Happy said. He got ahead of them, to awaiting limo.

The walkway was slippery with ice, and the prosthetic was no goodfor maintaining his balance. Bucky took a wrong step, twisted, and almost fell.

Tony reached out, caught his hand. “Steady there, big guy,” hesaid. “No falling down until after we get drunk.”

His hand was warm in Bucky’s, the fingers strong and callused. Notthe hand of a child, or even of a posh rich boy, but the hands of someone wholabored. Even once Bucky was steady, Tony didn’t take his hand away, and Buckydiscovered he really didn’t want to let go, either.

Something zinged between them, like static, sending sparks ofsensation through him.

For the first time in months, Bucky didn’t feel haunted.

For the first time in months, he felt alive.

He squeezed Tony’s hand and let the other man lead him down to thelimo, to the airport, and eventually, all the way to California.

To start a new life.

#winteriron #tony x bucky #tony stark #bucky barnes #snowman #children at first #pre-slash #hallucinations #bucky starting over #prompts #tisfan

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