#bucky barnes in angstville

[luna-rainbow]

— Sebastian Stan (2016), source

Overall a fairly similar sentiment to Mackie’s comment about platonic male friendships, but I did find an interesting angle I hadn’t considered before and which - Seb being Seb - he’s made up an entire headcanon about, and which of course was never addressed in the movies.

We often focus on Steve’s sense of guilt towards Bucky. “All I had to do was hold him”. It is certainly billed as one of the drivers for Steve’s strong sense of obligation towards Bucky “he’d have done the same for me”.

We have often talked about Bucky’s sense of guilt for hurting Steve as the Winter Soldier, but rarely have we talked about Bucky’s guilt for falling, and (in his mind) failing. “You don’t have to (do it alone)”, “the little guy who doesn’t know how to run away from a fight” — Bucky (Seb) saw them as vows. He stayed back in the war because he vowed to protect this guy, who — yeah, might be bigger and stronger now — but he’s still his little Steve who’s too sincere and too noble and too passionate to run from a fight.

We remember the fall for Steve’s despair at the end, and it is an easy segue into Steve’s guilt.

But I think Seb’s words put Bucky’s desperation into a different perspective.

This wasn’t just a man trying to reach for a life line — of course he doesn’t want to die.

But more than that, he had to get back to Steve, because he had a promise to keep.

Even if Steve didn’t know it, Bucky had never blamed Steve for the 70 years Hydra put him through. He blamed himself for not being there when Steve needed him.

#stucky #bucky barnes #steve rogers #sebastian stan #stucky meta #bucky barnes in angstville

[moonstruckbucky]

Culture Shock [one-shot]

Summary: In which Bucky learns he might not be fully caught up with the current century.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader [established relationship]

Warnings: Fluff

Notes: Taking a break from Angstville to bring you a nice fun, fluffy piece! This is for @kentuckybarnes‘s 3k writing challenge and my word was kerfuffle! It’ll be bolded below! Enjoy! x

ker·fuf·fle

noun

a commotion or fuss, especially one caused by conflicting views.

Living in Avengers Tower had taken some getting used to. An entire building dedicated to housing Earth’s Mightiest Heroes that’s provided an intimate look inside their daily lives.. From time to time you would wonder how the press would take it if they were to learn that Sam leaves uncovered food in the fridge to spoil. Or that Bucky really hates cleaning the lint trap in the dryer and leaves it for the next person to deal with. Or that Natasha has a pair of fluffy pink bunny pajama pants that she wears after rough missions.

On second thought, that last one you’ll take to your grave. Avenger you may be, but stupid you most definitely are not.

Inside the tower, they’re normal people, a far cry from the idols of the world who emulate grace, intelligence, and dignity. In the tower, they bicker like children over menial things, such as who’d eaten the last of the Poptarts, and they cry over movie nights when someone picks a tear-jerker.

So it’s no surprise when you return from a mission to hear a commotion in the kitchen. Still donned in your uniform, a skintight catsuit that really doesn’t allow for proper breathing, dirty, and mentally exhausted, you take a detour past the kitchen to see what the fuss is about. The Avengers are all gathered around the island, Steve at the stove dishing out heaping plates of eggs, bacon, toast, and sausage. He looks ridiculous in the Falcon-themed apron Sam got him as a gag one Christmas, the fabric stretched tight across his outrageously-muscled chest. You can practically hear the seams screaming.

Bucky hunches over the island, a bowl in front of him, with his head ducked down, dark hair around his face like a curtain. Sam stands over him, an incredulous expression on his face, jaw slack. Nat watches on, leaning back in her chair, in that all-knowing, hawk-like way she has while Clint beside her stifles chuckles around a bite of breakfast.

Sam sassily pops a hip, plants a fist on his hip and leans the other hand on the granite. He snarks, “You know, I’m startin’ to think HYDRA left nothin’ in that head o’ yours, Ice Man.”

A year ago, that remark would’ve been the last to be heard of Sam Wilson, but Bucky’s come a long way, and the jab is met with what you suppose is a lackluster glare of annoyance that doesn’t phase the Falcon.

“Can it, Birdbrain,” Bucky snaps back.

“What’s all the kerfuffle?”

Sam’s eyes find yours, take in your bemused and curious little smirk as you enter the room, and he holds his hands out towards you. Bucky sends you a small but no less bright smile over his shoulder before turning back to Sam when he speaks.

“Okay, now we can settle this shit once and for damn all,” he crows. “Y/N, please come tell Mr. Freeze over here how you prepare cereal in the morning.”

You step up beside Bucky, glancing down to take in his flaming red cheeks that he tries to hide behind his hair. Casually you lean your elbow on his shoulder, the metal unyielding under your weight.

“What are you picking on my boyfriend about now, Pigeon?” you taunt with an arched eyebrow. Bucky snorts into his spoonful of cereal, chewing languidly as Sam waves off your jab.

“Just please, answer the question. For science,” he implores, holding out his hands in a begging manner. “How do you prepare cereal?”

“Cereal first and then milk? How else do you make cereal?” you answer, tone dripping with an duh kind of lilt, and it sends Sam into a frenzy. He shrieks and jumps away from the counter, hands in the air and looking mighty foolish.

“I told you!” he exclaims, pointing at Bucky who’s now trying to hide his face in his elbows. The others are a combination of giggles, chuckles, and mere looks of amusement at Bucky’s expense, and for a second you feel badly. “Girl, you need to school your boytoy in the ways of the 21st century because this moody popsicle out here pouring milk first and then cereal.”

Eyes wide with incredulity, you lift off Bucky’s shoulder and lean over him expectantly. His head burrows further and you finally notice the aforementioned bowl of cereal, that, despite the few bites taken out of it, clearly looks as if it had been indeed poured milk first and then cereal.

Bucky picks his head up, cheeks still red with an embarrassed flush, and gestures to the bowl. “If you do it the other way, you mess up the milk-to-cereal ratio and then you got cereal all over the counter!”

Over the time Bucky’s been in the tower, the more comfortable he grew, the more often his Brooklyn accent slipped through when he was excited or buzzed off Thor’s liquor. It makes you giggle quietly now, watching him try to defend his position on the correct order of cereal-making. He turns jokingly betrayed eyes on you and you quiet yourself by biting down on your lip.

“Okay Bucky,” you tell him, voice still tinkling with giggles. “It’s your cereal, you do what you want.”

Bucky huffs indignantly and crosses his thick arms over his chest, clearly not happy with the slight condescending, albeit joking, tone to your voice. Meanwhile, Sam scoffs and scrubs a hand over his face.

“I suppose you’re gonna tell him that it’s okay to just bite into ice cream or bite into a string cheese stick, too,” he gripes. “Man, I don’t know why I look to you for anything when it comes to him.”

Smiling, you step behind Bucky and wrap your arms around his shoulders, fingers splayed across his chest as he moves his hands to hold your wrists. You drop a loving kiss into his hair, slightly damp from a shower he must’ve taken earlier.

“I don’t really know why, either, Pigeon, because I’m always going to take Bucky’s side over yours.” Your cheeky grin is met with a half-hearted leer from the Falcon, who scoops up his plate of breakfast.

“I’m just gonna go eat in my room where I’m not surrounded by absolute animals.” His footsteps echo down the hall to the elevator, where it dings, the door opens, and moments later, closes. Once he’s gone, you straighten up a little but keep Bucky in your grip.

“Well, that was a fun way to come home,” you quip.

“How’d the mission go?” Steve asks, ever the responsible Captain. You shrug lazily.

“Not much better than we expected. Sat in that room for six hours without so much as a peep. Sorry, Cap.”

He waves you away and a yawn breaks through your relaxed stance. Bucky’s hand slides up and down your arm comfortingly and he turns his head to look up at you.

“Tired?”

“Beat,” you reply with a nod. “I’m gonna go clean up and crash. I’ll see you later?”

A shared kiss, an affirmative nod, and you’re trudging out of the kitchen. You’re woken from your nap a few hours later by Bucky pressing light kisses across your back. When he gets to the nape of your neck, you shiver and groan, and Bucky drops onto the mattress beside you.

“Time is it?” you question sleepily with your eyes still closed.

“Almost three. You been asleep a while, doll.” He slides down the bed, carefully pulling you onto his chest where you burrow into his warmth. God bless that super-soldier serum.

“Because I was so bored out of my goddamn mind,” you grumble. His chest vibrates with a low chuckle that has the corners of your mouth quirking up. His hands dance along your back, and your mind flashes back to the incident in the kitchen. “Question.”

“Answer.” His voice is thick, as if he’s close to dozing off himself.

“You don’t just bite into a cheese stick right? Because if so, we might have to reevaluate this relationship.”

You squeak, eyes flying open, as Bucky rolls the two of you over, keeping most of his weight off you though still keeping you pinned under him. His hands fly to your sides and his fingers wiggle, sending you into a flurry of laughter.

“Oh really now?” he taunts with a devilish grin as you squeal and writhe beneath him to get away from his assault. It’s futile, really, he’s far too massive. “You really gonna call it quits because I ain’t got time to fuck around with a cheese stick? Huh?”

“N-No, no! Bucky, I’m so-s-sorry! I take it back! Yield!” you cry breathlessly. To your relief, he stops and you melt back into the bed. He’s grinning down at you while you catch your breath, his eyes softening by the second until he looks absolutely moon-eyed.

His metal hand brushes hair out of your face, cool against your flushed face, before his mouth descends to yours, feather-light but no less toe-curling. He presses a few more chaste kisses to your lips and cheeks before pulling back.

“I love you,” he murmurs lowly, and you can see the adoration reflected in his silver-blue eyes. You smile, the sentiment still bringing a blush to your face even months later.

“Love you too, Buck.” You kiss him again but drop your head back to the mattress, pointing at him. “But we are gonna have a serious talk about your food preparation skills.”

He chuckles and snuggles into you, face in your neck and bulging arms around you. “Whatever you say, dollface.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #hannahs3kwritingchallenge

[cassiopeiassky]

When Everything’s Made to be Broken (I Just Want You to Know Who I Am) Part 30

Here we go - a few more answers and a lot more angst.  I’d like to give a special shout out to @buckykingofmemes for letting me use this post for the story about Peggy (modified slightly to match my writing tone).

Plot:  When you inadvertently become a witness to a murder and are suddenly a target for death, it takes a specially skilled soldier and his team to keep you and your family safe.

This will eventually be a is a reader x Bucky fic. The reader, by the way, is a civilian. No super powers, no fighting skills, and by no means perfect.  

Word count: 3488  (sorry…these parts are getting wordier…)

Warnings:

For the entire work:  Language (I have a potty mouth), violence, and angst.  This will probably get pretty dark later on, and there will be smut.  If that’s not your thing, you may want to avoid this story.

Additional warnings specific to this part: welcome to angstville everyone, use of injectable drugs, .  If I need to add anything else, PLEASE LET ME KNOW.  If you don’t want me to publish the ask, I won’t, or you can feel free to do it as a Nonnie.  I will not take offense to any trigger warning requests.   Your well-being is important to me and I do NOT want to trigger anyone.

***I do not own any of the lyrics/music in this story, so please don’t sue me for using them***

Tags moved to the end.

WEMtbB Masterlist

Previously on WEMtbB:

You notice that Bucky looks behind you to see what Tony’s looking at, and you even though you can’t see it, you can see the expression on Bucky’s face. Fear.  Complete, unadulterated fear.

“What?” Nat’s concerned voice breaks in, asking the question ricocheting through your mind.  “What are you seeing that I’m not?  All I see is her holding is a bottle of Advil.”

Oh God.

“That’s it,” Tony says after a long moment, sounding as if the air has been punched out of him.  “But how does she still have it if we received it?”

Tony suddenly jumps into action, almost running into you and Bucky in his haste.  

Krakken.  

Bucky ushers you to a chair, careful to keep you facing away from the image of the murdered woman until FRIDAY finally closes it at his terse command.  There’s still a hand at your shoulder; Clint is following to offer whatever assistance he can.

Tony returns just as quickly as he left, unscrewing the lid from the bottle of Advil you’d received the night before last with shaking hands.  He takes out a tablet and sloppily cuts it open with a screwdriver before putting the broken pieces into a small machine.  “FRIDAY!  Do an analysis on this, now!  I need a detailed list of everything you find that isn’t a standard ingredient for a drug in tablet form.”

“It’s going to be okay, I promise, we’ll find a way to make it okay,” Bucky murmurs over and over as he holds you close.  You aren’t sure if he’s saying it for your benefit or his own.  You suppose it doesn’t matter.

Are you really just waiting to die at this point?

“Sir, it’s the same unidentifiable substance you already have me looking into.”  The inevitability of FRIDAY’s statement feels like a physical blow.

“FUCK FUCK FUCK!” Tony slams his fists onto the work surface before running his hands through his hair.

“They got to her, they fucking got to her,” Clint mutters from behind you; he sounds like he’s in denial.

“Sam?” you hear Nat quietly speaking into her phone, “We need all available hands here.”

“We need to figure out what this is.  TONY!  We don’t have time to panic.”  Bruce sounds relatively calm, all things considered.  

“Dear, the twins are waking,” SUNDAY announces into the chaos.  

Your babies.  Thank God it’s you and not them.  

Everyone is suddenly silent and still at the mention of Artie and Jimmy, but it’s the catalyst that pushes Bucky into action.  He squeezes you tightly for just a moment and kisses your forehead before he starts giving orders.  “Alright, Barton – I need you to watch the kids.  They can stay in their pajamas, just get them downstairs and make sure they eat breakfast.  Keep them occupied and away from here; I do NOT want them exposed to this.  Make sure you have weapons within easy access.” Bucky turns to Nat as Clint nods at his instructions and leaves.  “I need you get Steve and Wilson up to speed.  Run surveillance with him until Wilson gets here, and then send Steve up to sleep.  He’s been awake for 24 hours and we’re going to need him rested.  This might be the last chance he gets.”

“Two on surveillance at all times?” Nat confirms as she walks toward the door.

“Yes.  I’ll set up sniper positioning shortly.  They clearly know where at least one of the drop locations is, and they might have followed the drone here; our position could be compromised.” He turns toward Bruce and Tony, “You two need to keep working on this, so what do you need from me?”

“We need you to oversee everything until Cap is ready to take charge – you’re right to make him take a nap.  He level of pigheaded stupidity goes up exponentially when he’s overtired,” Tony mutters as he eyeballs the blobby visuals in front of him.

“Yes,” Bucky replies flatly. “I know.”

“We also need you to keep her as calm and as comfortable as possible,” Bruce directs as he nods toward you, “Make sure she eats, keep her hydrated, and keep time for the morphine. We need to stay on top of her pain, and I think the best way to do that is to set up an IV port.  She’s uncomfortable enough; we don’t need to turn her into a pincushion.  We’ll give her another full dose now, and then give her smaller, hourly boosts. I’ll show you the dosing so you can administer it.”

Bucky nods.  “Anything else?”

“Keep her close,” Tony breaks in as he rapidly switches between screens, “she needs to be either with you or with us; we need eyes on her at all times.  We don’t fully know the extent of what this…substance… is doing to her yet, we can only guess, so we need to know right away if anything changes.  Oh, and there’s a crawlspace with a window above the front-facing bedrooms – will that work for the sniper positioning?”

“I’ll check it out, but it should.  I’ll go do that now if –“ he cuts himself off and looks to you.

You swallow your terror and put on a brave front; he’s got better things to do then babysit you, and as far as you’re concerned, the safety of your kids takes priority over you. Besides, there’s no need to panic yet, right?  You’ve got some of the smartest men in the world in the same room working on a fix. “I’ll be okay, Buck.  Tony and Bruce can play mother hen for a while so you can take care of what you need to do,” you say softly as Bruce walks toward you with a prepared syringe and the supplies necessary for inserting an IV. “I’m probably going to try to take a nap anyway.  Oh, Bruce, put the IV in my hand, please.”

Bruce nods and focuses on his task as Bucky kneels in front of you.  “You sure, Doll?” he asks softly, eyes focused solely on you.

You nod before continuing, “It’s either sleep or I’m gonna get a massive case of the munchies.  So bring me some breakfast when you come back, pretty please.”  You give him the brightest smile you can muster.

“Anything for my best girl,” he murmurs as he tucks a renegade curl behind your ear.

“Are you ready for the morphine?” Bruce asks softly.

You glance down to see the IV port already in the back of your right hand.  “Holy shit, Bruce, I didn’t even feel you put that in!  You’re good.”  He smiles just a little at your praise.

Seriously, this guy is fantastic; it brings you a small measure of comfort..and just the tiniest bit of hope.

Bucky watches closely as Bruce administers the morphine, holding your hand like before to get you through the rush while he carefully listens to Bruce’s instructions.  You close your eyes and exhale when it hits you.  “Tell me a story, Buck?” you ask through the nausea; suddenly breakfast doesn’t sound so good.

He laughs softly, “I’ve got the perfect one; it’s about the girl Stevie loved.”

“Peggy?”  Bucky had told you about Peggy Carter; he spoke very highly of her.

“Yeah.  Pegs had the dirtiest mouth of any of the Howlies. Doll, she was one of the most graceful women to ever walk the planet; you’d never guess that she could out-cuss a battalion of marines.  We were all on leave in some town in the middle of nowhere, and we all got well and truly drunk at one of the local bars; Pegs included.  Some idiot from the Navy grabbed her, so she spun around like a ballerina, rattled off the filthiest insult any of us had ever heard, and laid him out flat with a gorgeous haymaker.  It was fantastic,” he chuckles, “Half the bar fell in love on the spot.  The other half was not so enamored.  Hands down the best barfight I’ve ever been in.”

You laugh a little at his words.  “I wish I could have met her; she sounds amazing.”

“Almost as amazing as you,” he hums softly.  You almost roll your eyes at his cheesiness, but the room is already spinning from the morphine.  It’s impeccable restraint on your end, really.  “You would have liked her,” he adds as he turns his head towards Steve, who had just entered the area.

“Peggy would have loved you,” Steve nods to you as he walks up, and then turns to Bucky.  “Nat went over everything with me.”

“Good,” Bucky nods, “then you know you need to get some sleep.”

“Buck, I –“

“Steve, I need you at your best for this.  You need at least a few hours of sleep to give me that.  Please.”

There’s a pretty intense stare down between the two men before Steve finally gives in. “Fine.  Come and get me if you need anything.”

Bucky nods, and turns to you as Steve leaves.  “You good here, Doll?  Do you need anything before I go?  I won’t be gone long…”

“Actually, I think I’d like to go downstairs.”  The need to be close to Artie and Jimmy has suddenly overwhelmed you.  

“Kiddo, you should probably stay up here – I’d like for you to be with us or with Barnes,” Tony calls from his nest of visuals.

“I really want to be with my boys right now,” your voice starts to crack, and you have to swallow before speaking again.  “Clint’s down there, so he can babysit me while Bucky is busy.”  You try to sound nonchalant, but it’s getting hard.

Bucky nods and starts helping you up even as Tony continues to protest, “But it would really be better –“

“Stark, it’ll only take me 20 minutes, 30 tops to do what I need to do.  I’ll be with her after that.”  Once you’re standing, he turns towards Tony and softly adds, “She needs to be with them.” There’s a sadness in his voice that he isn’t quite able to conceal.

“Make sure Barton knows to have SUNDAY get us if anything changes.”  He sounds reluctant, but Tony finally concedes.

***

True to his word, it only took Bucky about 20 minutes before he was back by your side.  Despite the circumstances, it’s a nice morning.  The boys noticed your IV port immediately, and upon explaining to them that it was a way for you to get medicine since you were sick, they went automatically into cuddle mode.

“Momma feel better,” Jimmy says in a serious voice as he climbs into your lap.  

“Snuggles help?” Artie asks innocently as he curls up next to you.

“Yes, my little loves, snuggles definitely make me feel better,” you murmur as you kiss the tops of their heads.  It’s hard to keep the tears out of your voice, but you manage. You’re battling an inner war; struggling to not give up hope yet so, so incredibly scared.  Bucky knows it – you see the same feelings written on his face when he doesn’t know you’re looking – but you’re trying your hardest not to let your kids see it.

They’d insisted on putting in a movie, since it’s what you do for them when they’re sick, but it’s impossible to focus on what’s on the screen.  You have eyes only for the kids cuddled up with you and the man that’s watching you intently for any changes in your condition.

Two Disney movies later, Bucky leans over the edge of the couch and puts his lips near your ear, “Sweetheart, Banner wants to check up on you.

You nod as you glance at the clock, thankful that they’ve given you this much time.  “Clint, would you mind putting lunch together for Artie and Jimmy in about a half hour if I’m not back down by then?”

“Sure thing,” he winks at you, taking your seat after Bucky helps you up.  The kids aren’t having it, though – Momma might need their cuddles today, but Clint is still a mobile playground.  The sounds of their giggles accompany you up the stairs, and it does wonders to bolster your courage.

***

“Alright,” Bruce gives the newest blood sample to Tony for analysis, “that should do it for now. Any changes that you can feel?”

You swing your legs listlessly from your spot on the workbench-turned-exam-table.  “Not really, the morphine helps to keep the pain down.  I don’t feel cold anymore, so that’s good, right?”  Just trying to find the silver lining…

“Well,” he begins slowly, “you’re still running a high temp at 104.0, so technically I would expect that you would feel either hot or cold.  The fact that you don’t is actually a little unusual.”

Your legs stop swinging and Bucky immediately looks concerned.

Bruce continues at the unasked question, “It’s…it’s possible that whatever is infecting you is starting to attack your central nervous system.  I was thinking that earlier when your reflexes weren’t responding, but there weren’t any other indications at the time.”

Well, fuck.

Bucky runs his hands through his hair before looking at you with red-rimmed eyes.  “We’re going to figure this out, Sweetheart,” he murmurs as he takes your face in his hands and brings his forehead to yours.  “We’re going to figure this out.”

“Uh,” you can hear Tony approaching hesitantly, “Hematocrit levels have decreased significantly.”

Everyone nods; no one expected anything different.

“It’s a risk, but should we bring her to the tower?” Bucky offers.  “Are there additional tools there that might help?  Anything in your lab?”

“Possibly, but I don’t know that it’s worth the risk of moving her.  We’d be extremely vulnerable while traveling.”  Tony rubs a hand over his tired eyes, “All the tools in the world won’t help us if we can’t safely get her there.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, he just nods.

Tony and Bruce silently retreat to their makeshift workstations, leaving you seated on the workbench with Bucky still standing in front of you.

“You’re doing great, Sweetheart,” he murmurs as he brushes his lips over yours, “You’re being so damn brave.  I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You pull him close for a hug, and he immediately wraps his arms around you.

You hear the door to the workshop open and close, but you don’t bother looking up until you hear Steve speak.

“Alright, I’m as rested as I’m gonna get.  Let’s start strategizing, Buck.”

He doesn’t argue, but you can almost hear Bucky roll his eyes.

“This place is fairly secure, but I was thinking –“ Steve is interrupted by his chirping phone. As he pulls it out and checks the display, his eyebrows draw together before he puts the phone to his ear.  “Rogers.”

As he listens to the caller, his countenance darkens.  After a few more moments, he speaks tightly, “SUNDAY, please enable video conferencing for this call.”

You don’t have to be able to read minds to know that whatever this is about, it isn’t good.

A virtual screen materializes in front of you, Bucky, and Steve, showing two men sitting in a dimly lit room.  Your first observation is that the man on the left is rather unfortunate looking; after taking a second look, you amend your assessment.  This guy fell out of the ugly tree and hit every damn branch on the way down.  Then he rolled downhill and fell into the neighboring swamp.  Yikes.  He’s maybe in his mid 30s and balding, with a pinched face, a thin, cruel mouth, and he’s sporting thick glasses that make his eyes look like pinpricks.  

The other man, however, automatically terrifies you.  You can see that he’s tall and powerfully built, even from his seated position.  He’s probably in his late 40s or early 50s; he’s got a neatly trimmed beard, dark hair that is swept back from his forehead, and high cheekbones.  The man would actually be quite handsome if it weren’t for his eyes – you can’t tell what color they are, and you pray that you’re never close enough to find out, because these eyes radiate malice and brutality.  There isn’t a shred of kindness to be found in this man.

“Visuals have been enabled. Speak,” Steve barks.

“You must be struggling to figure out what is wrong with your darling girl, yes?”  The man on the left is doing the talking in a thick German accent, and you hate his seedy voice immediately.

“Who the fuck are you?” Bucky demands, completely ignoring the look Steve shoots him in warning.

“Oh, please excuse my rudeness; allow me to introduce myself.  My name is Alric Metzger, and this is my benefactor, Nicolai Krakken.”

Your blood runs cold when you comprehend the names, and upon hearing them Tony and Bruce both rush over to take part in the call.

“Tsk tsk Mr. Stark, I really would have expected you to be more careful,” Metzger taunts when Tony comes into his view.  “How does it feel to have another soul added to your already heavy responsibility?”

“What –“

“Evelyn Sharpe.  It was really quite careless of you to ask her to purchase the Advil on your behalf, considering that she is – well, was – allergic to it.  Or perhaps it was careless of her to purchase the drug at her pharmacy, where they are aware of her allergy?”  Metzger shrugs.  “We were already watching her due to her previous association with your mother, but you made it fairly obvious.”

“You have an in at her pharmacy,” Tony intones emotionlessly, staring at the face in front of him.  He looks as if he’s seen a ghost.

“We have ins everywhere,” Metzger sneers.  “How long did you really think you could hide her from us?”

Krakken abruptly clears his throat and shifts in his seat, causing Metzger to flinch.  Looking slightly chastised, he steals a glance at Krakken before continuing, “I’m sure you’ve already started to investigate my little creation, but let me save us both some time and explain to you what is currently happening within her body. The sooner you know, the sooner you’ll realize you can’t help her…the sooner we get what we want.” Metzger begins. “Her red blood cells are systematically being destroyed, and her bone marrow, organs, tissues, and brain are being attacked.  By now I would expect her to have fatigue, a high fever, and significant amounts of pain. Within the next day or so she will be vomiting and unable to keep anything down.  Following that is confusion and delirium.  She has roughly four days from the time of ingestion until the damage is irreversible and permanent, and another four to six days after that until death.”

“Are you offering to help us?  Why are you telling us this?”  Steve breaks in.

“Because I want you to fully understand what you’re dealing with.  You will not be able to create a cure for her in time; of that I have no doubt. But,” he allows a threatening smile, “as it so happens, I have a little something that will take care of her not so little problem.”

“You have a cure?” The breathless desperation in Bucky’s voice is so thick you can almost see it.  

Krakken has remained silent throughout the entire conversation, but you see his merciless eyes narrow a bit when Bucky speaks.

Metzger speaks in a condescending tone when he answers, “Yes, Soldat, I have a cure.” Bucky visibly flinches at the name.  “But it comes at a price.”

“How much do you want?” Tony asks simply.  “It’s yours – I’ll have it wired immediately.”  You swallow hard – you just know it’s not going to be that easy.

Krakken laughs, and it is the creepiest sound you’ve ever heard, before he finally speaks, “I don’t want your money.  The price is her; I want her.”

“You can’t have her,” Bucky growls.

He laughs again. “Soldat, it appears you have developed a soft spot for her.  I am very pleased to see it.”  His ominous tone chills your heart.  “It is a better outcome than I had planned.”  Even through video feed you can feel it when he turns his icy gaze your way.  “Hello there, milaya moya.”

               |Milaya moya – my sweet

Bucky’s jaw clenches before he speaks.  “Do not call her that.”

“I am sorry, have you already claimed that endearment, Soldat?  My apologies; perhaps I will think of a different nickname for her when she is with me,” Krakken’s smile is edged with poisoned honey.

“You can’t have her,” Bucky repeats, speaking every bit as menacingly as Krakken.

“Then neither can you. She will be dead in six to eight days; you should start saying your goodbyes while she is still coherent enough to understand them.  You have my number; call me if you change your mind.  Just keep in mind that you only have until this afternoon if you want her to get help before she is permanently damaged.  Her cure is in Russia, at my estate, and it will take at least sixteen hours to transport her here, and roughly 24 hours for the cure to take full effect and reverse course after administration.  The times are, of course, estimations – she may have more time. Or significantly less.  You need to make your decision quickly if you want her to recover.”  You feel his predatory gaze on you once again, “I have a feeling I’ll have the pleasure of seeing you soon, milaya moya.”  And with that, the call is disconnected.

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