Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

"So, how did last night go ?" Sam asked, sitting next to Steve in one of the smaller meeting rooms in the office. T'Challa sat at the end of the table.

"It went about as well as I thought it would." Steve took a sip of his coffee. "I ran into that sniper - his name is Bucky, by the way - and we took down Madame Hydra. And by 'we', of course I mean 'he', because apparently his only goal in life is to steal my targets."

Sam laughed. "I get the feeling you weren't actually upset about this turn of events."

"You wouldn't be wrong." Steve did not elaborate because he wasn't ready for the Sam Wilson Therapy Session that was sure to follow the revelation that he made out with the guy he had been pseudo-complaining about for the last couple of weeks. "And you? How did your night go?"

Sam glanced at T'Challa, who looked back at him with an unreadable face. "It was really, really, good." Steve was clearly not the only skimping on details here.

Elektra glided into the room and took the seat opposite Steve. "Thank goodness you're back, T'Challa. I've botched enough Diplomat missions for a lifetime."

"I'm glad to be back, Elektra. And I'm sure they weren't botched, you're more skilled than you let yourself believe." Steve realized he had missed T'Challa because he managed to make fortune cookie type advice sound completely serious. It was no wonder he and Sam were into each other.

Director Hill stormed in, closing the door behind her. "Good, the four of you are here already. Let's get down to business."

Sam hummed a few lines to the tune of I'll Make a Man Out of You , and Steve tried to contain his laughter. With a straight face, T'Challa asked, "Should I be saying goodbye to those who knew me?" and Steve couldn't hold it in anymore. A small laugh escaped him and he heard Elektra choke on a laugh across the table from him.

Director Hill narrowed her eyes at them. "Very funny. I'm glad you're all on the same page. You're going to need to work together if you have any chance at defeating the Huns. HYDRA. Defeating Hydra."

Now everyone was laughing. Hill closed her eyes, a small smile on her face before she cleared her throat. Everyone stopped laughing. "Right. Anyway, Johann Schmidt is hosting a fundraising benefit tonight at an art gallery. T'Challa, you already had an invitation. So, I'm going to need you to get Rogers, Natchios, and Wilson in with you. I have no doubt there will be resistance, but I'm sure you can handle it. Once inside, I need you all to fan out and find Schmidt. Reconvene, figure out the best plan to take him down, and get it done quickly and quietly. Rogers, you're going to need to stop down at Tac Gear and get a new suit. I'm assuming the rest of you still have your formal wear in one piece?"

Everyone nodded. "In Steve's defense, it wasn't his fault that guy had a knife." Sam was an actual angel for trying to stick up for Steve, but he knew he should have been more careful about avoiding the slashing. He had been pretty reckless on that op.

"I'm not blaming Steve for anything. The fact remains that he needs a new suit for this mission. Does anyone have any additional comments or questions about the mission?" Nobody said anything. "Alright, you can always refer to your file for more information. Keep in mind that we're working on minimal information here and you need to be prepared for every possibility. You depart at 1700 hours. Good luck." She got up and left, but everyone else stayed at the table.

"This file is embarrassingly incomplete. We don't even know what kind of security he's going to have," Elektra pointed out a s she flipped through the folder Hill had given each of them.

T'Challa sighed. "I agree, we appear to be headed into this mission completely blind. I don't like it."

"I don't like it anymore than the rest of you, but this is our best chance at this guy. We've got his location and we know what he looks like. Who knows where he's going to go or how he'll disguise himself after this. We need to move while we can." Steve honestly wasn't feeling that comfortable himself, but he needed to rally the team. If they went in feeling doomed, there was no way they'd make it out. "We're the best at what we do, it's why we work for Hill. We can get this job done."

Sam clapped him on the shoulder. "You're right, we're a squad of kickass agents and we can handle this. Plus, now we have an excuse to ask Stark for extra cool weapons."

"I like the way you think, Samuel." Elektra grinned and stood up. "Let's go. It's going to take me a while to decide which weapons are worth my limited storage space."

T'Challa tsked at her. "I've known you long enough to be sure you have a knack for concealing your weapons, despite the amount of storage space you have."

"How I've missed you, T'Challa." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Now , grab your boyfriend and we can all go pester Stark while Steve gets fitted by Thor." T'Challa didn't protest the 'boyfriends' jab, just got up to follow her out of the room.

"I think she was talking about you when she told T'Challa to bring his boyfriend," Steve said to Sam with a smirk.

"Oh, I'm fully aware who she was referring to. I wanted to ask you if your boyfriend is going to be there tonight." Sam crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows.

Steve sighed. "Just because we've kissed doesn't make us boyfriends."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. It's only a matter of time." Sam smiled at him before getting serious again. "I just want to know . I n the end, can we count on him and his crew to help us, or should I be worried?"

"I think we can count on them," Steve answered.

Sam gave him a long look. "I trust your judgement, but I will tell you right now: the second it looks like he is going to be a problem, I will not hesitate to take him down."

"Is this your version of the 'hurt him and I'll kill you' speech? Because I'm pretty sure you're supposed to be telling him this." Steve was trying to make a joke, but judging by Sam's face, it didn't go over well.

Sam stood up to leave. "I'll save that speech for after your first date, but I'm completely serious about tonight."

"I know, Sam. Thank you." Steve go t up and followed him out of the room.

They split ways, heading down separate halls. Sam turned around, walking backwards down the hall towards Tech and Weapons. "And Steve?" Steve stopped walking and turned to look at Sam. "I'm happy for you and your grungy rogue assassin boyfriend." He gave Steve a big smile before turning around again.

"Not my boyfriend!" Steve called down after him.

Sam didn't even turn around. "Not yet!"

Steve headed off towards Tac Gear, a huge smile on his face.

<>

"Hmmm." Steve stood very still, arms stretched out at his sides. "Hmmm." Thor circled around him again, a frown etched on his face. "Hmmm."

"Are you going to say anything other than hmm?" Steve's arms may have been well muscled, but they were starting to get sore. Thor had circled around him several times. Very slowly.

"Okay, put your arms down." Thor took out a measuring tape and wrapped it around Steve's chest. "Sorry, sometimes I forget how tiring it gets to literally just stand there."

Steve rolled his eyes. "So , what has your excessive assessment revealed?"

"Navy blue three piece." He took a step back, looking Steve up and down before moving closer again to measure Steve's arms. "White shirt. Striped tie."

Tony strolled into the room as Thor moved to measure Steve's inseam. "Whoops, hope I'm not interrupting." Steve and Thor gave Tony matching glares. "Taking that as a no. Anyway, your merry band of thieves are upstairs sorting through the armory and picking out their weapons. They told me you were stranded in Tac Gear, so I thought I'd bring the weapons party to you." He flicked his tablet and a projection materialized in front of Steve's face. "I hope you're going to emphasize his shoulders with this suit."

"Psh. Do I look like a rookie? Of course I'm emphasizing his shoulders." Thor continued to move around Steve taking measurements of whatever it was a tailor needed measurements of.

"Good. Anyway, Rogers, here are some options. Parker and I developed this force field microchip. It seems to have stood up to long range and close quarters shots, so I think you'll benefit. We could insert one into an American flag pin or something." Tony slid his hand across his tablet and the image on the projection changed. "And here we have a pistol that reads your fingerprint - it won't fire if someone else tries to use it. Not that I think you're regularly having your gun used against you or anything, but, it's a nice precaution." Another flick of Tony's wrist and there was a knife on the projection. "This knife works on a similar principle. If someone else manages to get a hold of it, the blade retracts into the handle and it’s rendered useless."

"Nice, I'll take all of it." Steve appreciated his ever-changing arsenal provided by Tony. "I'm surprised you found time to get this new stuff out with that other project Hill had you working on."

"Well, it helps when you have a brain child as an intern. He had this huge thing about making weapons safer for our agents, hence the fingerprint coding." Tony flicked his tablet and the projection disappeared. "You should swing by the lab and get your prints coded once Thor is done pretending to get your measurements." He turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

Steve looked at Thor, who was measuring Steve's chest for the third time. He hadn't really been paying attention to Thor during Tony's visit , but now that he thought about it, he had been here for a long time. Thor shrugged and stepped away. "Just making sure I had the right numbers." Steve raised an eyebrow at him. "Alright, fine, I knew I had the right numbers the first time, I was just appreciating. How do you get such defined shoulders?"

Steve laughed. "I have a workout that focuses on upper body. Delts, biceps, pecs, and some other muscle group which I cannot think of right now. You can come train with me some time."

"Can I. Umm. Bring Jane too? She mentioned once she wanted to know what it was like to be a field agent." Thor suddenly busied himself with rolling up measuring tapes.

"Definitely." Steve only felt slightly guilty at being relieved that Thor really only wanted to impress Jane and he wasn't actually interested in Steve.

"Thanks. You can go catch up with Stark now, I've been done for a while." He started rummaging around on shelves and racks of clothes.

Steve headed out, but turned around in the doorway. "Hey, Thor?" Thor looked up at him, a white shirt in his hand. "Make sure you wear a tight shirt for the training. She'll like that."

Thor laughed, the booming kind of laugh you could probably hear three floors up. "Solid advice. And good inspiration for your own clothes tonight." He held up the white shirt in his hand, clearly an indication that it would be tailored to fit Steve like it was painted on.

"As long as I can fight in it, I don't care," Steve said.

Thor considered him for a moment. "You might flex out of it. But I think it would give you an advantage since everyone's gonna stare at you, completely dumbstruck after it happens."

"Dear lord," Steve muttered under his breath. Thor laughed again and Steve decided it was time to get away before he gave Thor anymore bad ideas. He headed down the hall to Tech and Weapons.

Steve leaned in the doorway and knocked on the jamb. Peter jumped at the noise and dropped a tablet on the ground. It was in a case, so Steve figured this was not the first time it had happened.

Peter picked up the tablet and turned around to give Steve a questioning look. "...Rogers?"

"Steve, yeah. Tony said I should stop by to get my weapons coded?" He wriggled his fingers in front of him for effect.

"Yes! Right! Come in!" Peter walked over to a table with stools set up around it and patted one in invitation for Steve to sit. He pulled a gun and knife towards him and started typing on his tablet.

Steve looked around the lab. "I literally just saw Tony. Where did he go?"

"Oh! Tony went to work on his AI project. But I can ask him to come back and do this if you would rather have him do it." Peter reached for his phone and Steve pushed it further out of his way.

"I've managed to go this whole day with minimal amounts of Tony's snark and innuendos, and I'd like to keep it that way."

Peter laughed. "I mean, in Tony's defense, you're asking for innuendos." Steve raised his eyebrows at him. "I mean, like, you're gorgeous! Who wouldn't innuendo you!" Steve's eyebrows moved closer to his hairline. "Wait! I mean....you're great! You're just amazing. I'm sorry. I'm going to stop talking now before I make this even worse." He furiously typed things into the tablet.

"Probably a good idea," Steve said with a laugh. "But, thanks? I don't know how to react to a small child telling me I'm gorgeous."

"I'm twenty-one though . S o , it's okay . I t's not like I'm jailbait." Peter cringed as he picked up the gun by its barrel and handed it to Steve. "Pretend I didn't say that. Try using the gun with your dominant shooting hand." He pushed a button on his tablet and a foam target descended from the ceiling. "I know it's probably tempting to use this on me at this point, but please use the target for testing."

Steve took the gun and felt a burning sensation in the grip and trigger before the gun cooled down again. He fired the gun twice, hitting the target dead in the center. "Looks like it works." He handed it back to Peter, who aimed for the target and pulled the trigger. The gun didn't work.

"Perfect. Excellent." He handed the gun back to Steve and continued typing things on his tablet. "Alright, pick up the knife with your dominant...umm...stabbing hand? Dominant knifing hand? Dominant slashing hand?  I'm sure it's your right hand. Which is probably your dominant hand for most things. Shooting, stabbing , punching, masturbating." His face turned a bright red and his eyes got huge. Steve tried to suppress his laughter. "Nope. Did not just imply I've thought about one of our best agents masturbating. Nope, no way. Here, take this knife, and please stab me with it so I can leave this earthly plane."

Steve laughed out loud, picking up the knife. He felt the same burning and cooling sensation and slashed the knife through the air a few times before setting it back down on the table. "Your turn."

Peter picked up the knife and drove the hilt towards his torso. Steve had a small heart attack before noticing that the blade retracted into the handle just before the hilt reached Peter's abdomen. "Damn, it worked, and I'm still stuck in this embarrassing moment with you." He threw the knife down on the table and nodded for Steve to pick it up again. Steve grabbed the handle and the blade immediately projected from the handle again.

"This is really impressive work." Steve turned the knife over, admiring the time and effort that had gone into what was essentially a high-tech switchblade. "What made you want to make it?"

"I just kept reading all these stories about people who were carrying weapons and then got attacked and had their weapons used against them. And I think it's awful that the thing people are trying to use to protect themselves ends up being the thing that hurts them." He was avoiding Steve's eyes, like wanting to protect people was something he should be embarrassed about. "I thought about asking Miss Potts if there was a way to distribute them to the general public or the police force, since they'd get more use out of them than overly trained super assassins, but she honestly kind of scares me."

Steve laughed. "Give yourself more credit, kid. You work with Tony all day. You have nothing to be scared of."

"I beg to differ. I really, really, beg to differ." Peter was violently shaking his head. "Have you met T'Challa? That guy is terrifying. Everyone here is terrifying. I feel like you're all ready to crush me under your boots."

"Okay, I'll give you T'Challa. He's intimidating. As far as the rest of us go, just be yourself - unless you're a dick, then just be nice  - and do your job and we'll all get along with you. We're all pretty easy going, especially Pepper. You're probably going to make her tear up with pride when you ask her about making these available to civilians." Steve stood up and stretched,  pocketing his new knife and gun. "You'll be fine. Just go ask her. I'm going to check in with you next week to make sure you talked to her."

Peter nodded. "Okay, sure, I'll talk to her."

"Just one tip." Peter looked at Steve expectantly. "Don't tell her you've thought about her masturbating before, even if it's true."

Peter turned a brilliant shade of red. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

Steve laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Never."

Bucky covered his face and slid down further into the booth as Clint continued to badger their waitress. "Tell me more about this." He pointed to a spot on the menu that advertised they had REAL CREAM!! "Do you guys make your cream here? How do I know it's actually real cream?"

The waitress narrowed her eyes at him. She looked like she was weighing the pros and cons of telling Clint he was an asshole. Like, on one hand, I finally told the real cream guy to knock it the fuck off he's been here like 10 times this week and he's always asking about the fucking cream fuck that guy , but on the other hand, I need this fucking job to pay the bills and this guy with the bruises and the band aids is not worth being homeless. "You can ignore him , " Natasha said. She was not having Clint's nonsense today. "I'll have the Banana Hazelnut Crepes, please."

Bucky took Nat's lead and ordered his food in an effort to get Clint on the right track. "I'll have the Crunchy Cinnamon French Toast." The waitress gave him a pained smile, most likely because the only option left now was for Clint to speak again.

"Can I have the Stuffed French Toast please?" The waitress sighed a breath of relief at Clint acting like a normal person. She tried to grab the menu from his hand, but he wouldn't let go. She tugged at it again with no success. "And can I have an extra heaping side of real cream." The waitress's eye twitched and Bucky figured she was weighing her options again. Clint released the menu and sat back with a smirk.

"Sorry," Bucky muttered as the waitress stalked away from their table.

Nat took a sip of her hot chocolate. "Clint. I will murder you if you make her job any more miserable than it already is."

"That threat gets old when you use it every day." Clint rolled his eyes, but quickly got very serious when Natasha held her knife up to his throat.

"Don't tempt me, bird man." She smiled at the toddler staring at her with wide eyes at the next table and set her knife back down on the table. "So , anyway, tell me more about your run in with Steve."

Bucky sighed. "I already told you everything. The Red Skull is going---"

"No, no. I got the Red Skull stuff under control. Clint is going suit shopping later today for you. I'm more curious about the Steve part. You skimped on details there." Her eyes were somehow more piercing over the rim of her cup.

"Why is Clint doing my suit shopping for me? I can go get one." It's not that Bucky didn't trust Clint, but, well, he didn't.

Natasha laughed. "When I say he's going shopping, I mean he's going to steal some clothes for us.

Clint's theft skills are on a whole different level compared to yours."

Clint smiled and waved at the parents of the toddler at the next table who were now looking at him with wide eyes. "Hi, how are you?" They didn't answer.

"Anyway, tell me about Steve. You're not getting out of this."

"Steve killed the guys, I killed the lady, and then we kissed. I don't know. What else do you want me to say?" The grandma at the next table looked him up and down and nodded in appreciation, winking at him. Bucky honestly would have preferred the fear reaction.

Clint broke out into song, his voice in soprano, both very shrill and off key. " Tell me more, tell me more like does he have a car?"

Natasha joined in, her voice going much lower than it should have been able to. " Tell me more, tell me more, didja get very far ?"

"I think he has a car and no, we literally just kissed." Bucky was thankful for the arrival of the waitress as an excuse to stop talking about it.

"Can I get you anything else?" She looked terrified at the response she might get from Clint.

Clint smirked. "Yeah, can I get some---" Natasha grabbed her knife and very violently stabbed her crepes. "----uhh, extra...napkins? Please," Clint finished, voice going high at the end.

"How was the kiss?" Natasha was the best spy they had, but when it came to Bucky and Clint, she skipped any subtlety in favor of getting right at the good parts.

"Really, uh, nice. Very nice." Bucky stuffed his face with french toast. Natasha waited for him to stop chewing, making a motion with her hand that clearly said I'm waiting, continue in glorious detail please. "I don't know. His hand was under my shirt. It was slick with blood which, like, normally isn't my thing because blood usually means pain, but it was some HYDRA dick bag's blood so it was actually a huge turn on because he's fucking good at his job."

The family at the next table abruptly stood up, the mother huffing with frustration every thirty seconds. The older woman walked up to Bucky as the rest of them walked away. She put her hand on his cheek and smiled at him. "You go find that boy and you fuck him. Or let him fuck you. Whatever makes you happy, sonny." There was a very agitated call of GRANDMA!! from the other side of the restaurant.

She patted his cheek a couple times and then walked away.

"I'm with grandma," Clint said, eating a spoonful of real cream.

Natasha nodded. "Same."

"It's not like I haven't thought about it." Bucky could feel his face turning bright red, so he looked at his french toast instead of at his friends, because his breakfast food has never mocked him or let him down. "But it's not like we've really had a chance."

Natasha shrugged, conceding the point. "Fair enough. But after the op tonight, we should have some down time."

"You're assuming we're all going to survive the op," Clint pointed out.

"Of course we are." Nat scoffed at him. "We always survive."

Bucky smiled. "She's got a point. We haven't died yet. Sure, if you compiled all of the various injuries we've had, we've probably died about a hundred collective deaths, but we haven't actually died yet."

"Ever the optimists." Clint stuffed his face with breakfast food. "But I can't argue with the logic."

Their waitress returned to the table. "Listen, you guys scared off that family that was seated next to you. We're all used to your weird murder talk , but can you guys, like, keep it down around the other customers?"

"Our sincerest apologies." Clint patted the girl on the arm. "We promise not to talk so loudly about overthrowing organizations that are a threat to all citizens and effectively saving all those nosy bitches' lives."

The waitress narrowed her eyes at him before responding in a deadpan. "Thanks." She turned to leave the table but hesitated, whirling around and pointing a finger at Clint. "And stop asking about the fucking cream." She dropped their check on the table and stormed off  before Clint could respond.

"Ungrateful," he sniffed. He picked up the bill and started fishing some money out of his wallet.

Bucky eyed the money on the table. "That's all you're leaving her for a tip? I think there's some unwritten law that says you have to tip at least 25% if you torture the wait staff."

Clint huffed and dropped another twenty on the table. "Better?"

"Nothing will make up for the pain you consistently inflict on these poor waitresses, but yes, that's better. Now , let's get out of here before they kick us out." Natasha shoved Clint out of the booth and they made a hasty retreat before Clint managed to harass anyone else.

<>

Bucky threw the door of the warehouse open to find someone lounging on their beat up couch. He pulled out his gun and he heard Clint unsheathe a knife as he came into the 'house. Nat was the only one who didn't pull out a weapon.

Natasha strode towards the intruder confidently, stopping just in front of her. "What are you doing here?"

The woman spread her arm out, pointing at the three garment bags on the table. "I come bearing gifts."

"I see that. Doesn't explain what you're doing here." Natasha crossed her arms.

The woman looked at Clint and Bucky. "Can you ask them to lower their weapons? You know I'm  not here to hurt anyone." She gestured to her immaculate, well-fitted business attire. "You don't think I'm carrying any weapons on me, do you?"

Natasha snorted. "I know you better than to assume you need a weapon to hurt someone." She looked over her shoulder anyway. "Stand down and stop lurking in the shadows. Come over here and meet my dear friend."

Bucky lowered his gun, but didn't stick it back in his holster. He glanced at Clint and noticed he also hadn't sheathed his knife. Running with Natasha had made taught them to be paranoid and habits died hard.

The woman stood up from the couch, straightening her skirt before sticking her hand out. "Pepper Potts, nice to meet you."

"Bucky." He shook her hand , but something about that name was setting off a bell in the back of his mind.

Clint introduced himself and shook her hand for far too long, but she took his strangeness in to stride and just kept smiling at him as he continued to shake her hand. "You've got a firm handshake. Strong hands. Are you good with a bow?"

Clint dropped her hand. "Good with a bow? That would be an understatement."

Pepper laughed. "And humble, too. I see why Natasha likes you."

"What are you doing here, Pepper?" Natasha asked.

Pepper opened her mouth to answer, but Bucky cut her off, suddenly remembering where he had heard her name before. "Did Steve send you here?"

Pepper looked at him with sharp eyes and Bucky had the feeling nothing got by her. "He didn't. But I'm curious as to the nature of your relationship and how you know I work with him." She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, a clear indication that she wasn't explaining why she was in their warehome until Bucky had explained himself.

"You could say we've worked together in the past," Bucky tried. Pepper did not look impressed. "I was there at Brew, Tea, and the Beast when he recruited Darcy. He told her to call the number on the card and ask for Pepper Potts." Bucky paused for a moment as a thought came into blinding clarity. "You're here to recruit us, aren't you?"

Pepper smiled and looked back at Natasha. "Quite the team you've assembled for yourself, Tasha. I'm glad. I'm here because I know that you're planning to be at the fundraising event tonight and I thought I'd save you a little time and bring some eveningwear around for you. I think you'll find that they fit quite well, but if they don't, feel free to give us a call and we'll send down a tailor." She picked up her own jacket and headed for the door.

"That's it? You're just going to drop off some clothes and leave?" Natasha sounded weirdly disappointed. Bucky wasn't sure what to make of that.

Pepper turned around, her hand on the doorknob. "Would it do any good if I did anything else?" Natasha crossed her arms and scowled. "That's what I thought. Good luck tonight , you guys." And then she was gone.

"What the fuck was that?" Clint was still staring at the door where Pepper had left.

Natasha sighed. "An old friend of mine. We used to work together, but she decided she wanted to work for an agency instead of staying freelance." She pulled a beautiful black, silk gown from one of the garment bags. A deep red pendant hung from the hanger as well.

Clint had pulled his own suit out of one of the other bags . I t was a classic black suit with a purple tie. "Well , if working for an agency means perks like free suits, I can see why she switched."

Natasha gritted her teeth. "She's trying to get us to join her agency."

Bucky pulled his own suit out of the bag. Black suit. Black shirt. Black tie. It was all sharp edges and sleek lines. "Would it really be so bad?"

"You're biased because she works with your boyfriend," Natasha accused while s he was putting on the pendant . So, Bucky figured she wasn't actually that upset about Pepper's surprise visit.

Bucky laughed. "Not gonna lie, working for Hill seems to have some major benefits, seeing Steve on the regular and free suits included." Natasha looked at him like she felt betrayed. "But I would never break up the band. If you guys didn't go with me, I wouldn't work for her." Natasha looked at the dress like it was a contract she wasn't willing to sign. "Nat. You can't block out everyone but us forever."

Clint had his tie looped around his neck in a messy knot. "I've got an idea." Natasha pretended to suppress a groan. "Let's treat tonight like a try out. If we like how it goes, we'll consider working with Hill. If you dislike one thing, even if it's something stupid like they use off-brand weapons, we'll walk out of there the same way we walked in - alone, together. Us against the world."

Natasha smiled , "Deal." She draped the dress over her arm. "Now , get dressed. We have a party to get to."

Steve focused on the broad, smooth lines of T'Challa's shoulders, the comforting weight of Elektra's arm looped through his elbow. He tried his best to avoid eye contact with the guards at the doors. He was a terrible liar . T hat was Elektra and T'Challa's arena, so he left the conniving up to them and tried to keep as casual as possible.

T'Challa was doing a good job of playing the calm, cool, collected party-goer. "I think you'll find you're quite mistaken if you take another look at the list , " he said while Elektra huffed. She was doing a good job of playing the antsy, frustrated, overly spoiled party-goer. Steve wasn't sure what part he was supposed to be playing , so he mostly just stood there, waiting for some cue from either one of them.

"No, I'm not. Your name is on the list, sir . However, the names of your guests are not. They're going to have to leave." The guard crossed his arms in a way that said 'ask again and you're getting thrown the fuck out'.

T'Challa clucked. "Alright, well, have it your way. I'm sure Mr. Schmidt will be disappointed to hear you turned away one of his honored guests and two very, very wealthy friends who were looking to become donors to Mr. Schmidt's campaign. I'll have to inform him he lost an extra two million because---- , " he pulled out his phone and squinted, trying to read the guard's name tag , "----Norman? Is that your name, Norman?" The guard hurried to cover his name tag. "Because Norman wouldn't let us into the party."

"Hope you have a day job, Norman , " Elektra scoffed and turned to leave, pulling at Steve's elbow.

"Wait! Wait. I'm sure...I'm sure there was a mix up. Please, please, come in." The guard opened the door so quickly that it swung back out of his grip and closed again. He straightened his jacket and gently pulled the door open. "Welcome to the party."

T'Challa nodded at him as he passed. Elektra gave a prim "hmmph". Steve didn't know what to do so he just ignored the guard and looked straight ahead. T'Challa led them to a small round table on the periphery of the party. It had good sight lines and was located close to an exit.

"Well Steven, I was a little worried about your inability to lie , but your icy indifference really worked." Elektra pulled three flutes of Champagne from a tray that passed by and downed hers immediately.

Steve furrowed his eyebrows. "I wasn't trying for icy indifference. I was just trying to be subtle."

"You tried," T'Challa said, patting Steve on the shoulder. "There are just some things that cannot be taught." He looked past Steve's shoulder and an uncharacteristic smile broke out over his face. Steve turned to see Sam coming down a grand staircase.

Elektra grabbed more Champagne from another tray as Sam made his way over to them. "This one is strawberry flavored." She grimaced and gave the half-full flute to Steve.

"Don't give it to me! I hate Champagne." Steve pushed the flute across to T'Challa.

"I would pay good money to have a picture of the face Steve made the first time he had Champagne," Sam said as he came up to their table. He scrunched up his face in what Steve thought was not at all an accurate recreation of his own face. Elektra laughed nonetheless, her arm shaking with giggles where it was still looped around his elbow.

"Whatever," Steve grumbled. "I'm assuming your presence here means your solo rooftop activities were successful?"

"If by 'rooftop activities' you mean, 'killing all the fuckin bad guys and coming in through the roof access stairwell'? Then yes, you'd be correct. He sure as hell didn't do it solo though." Bucky smirked at him, coming up to their table with two other people in tow. Steve tried to hide his goony smile.

Sam laughed, obviously amused by Steve's inability to hide his emotions. "Your boy has some talented friends."

Bucky laughed. "Steve, I'd like you to meet my associates---"

The man next to Bucky stuck out his hand. "Flint Birbton. Nice to meet you." Steve warily shook the man's hand. "And this my beautiful wife, the crown jewel of Russia, the most elegant ballerina, the foremost expert on arachnids, Miss Catasha Birbton."

Steve exchanged a glance with the woman before placing his hand, palm up, in front of her. She placed her hand in his and be bowed slightly to kiss the top of her hand. "Your highness."

She laughed at him, but tightened her grip on his hand. Steve tried not to wince as she pulled his torso across the table towards her. "I am not a princess. I know nothing about spiders. If you call me Catasha I will stab you repeatedly in the chest and if you even so much as think about hurting James you will wish all I'd done was stab you. Do you understand me?"

"I feel like you might be making a scene," T'Challa pointed out. Elektra agreed, but Steve could feel the pure joy rolling off of her at the sight of a woman putting a man in his place.

Steve pulled away from her to avoid gathering anymore unwanted attention. "Understood. What should I call you then?"

"Natasha." She nodded at the man claiming to be her husband. "His name is Clint , but I don't really care if you call him Flint instead."

Clint gasped. "I can't believe you would disrespect your own husband---"

"She's not your wife until you actually propose." Bucky sighed like this was not the first time he'd reminded Clint of this fact.

Sam, ever the social situation navigation expert, deftly steered the conversation in a new direction. "You all clean up pretty nice for some freelance mercenaries."

Bucky laughed, bumping his shoulder into Steve. "Your girl came by with new clothes for us."

"My girl, as in, Elektra?" Steve looked at her, but she just shook her head. "Oh, was it Director Hill?"

"Nope." Bucky stole one of the Champagne flutes in front of Steve. Steve did not protest.

"Was it Karen?"

"No."

"Trish?"

"...No."

"Jessica?"

Natasha sighed. "Just how many girls do you have, Steve?" She narrowed her eyes at where Elektra's arm was still looped through his.

Sam tried to suppress a laugh, resulting in a loud snorting noise.

"None!" He quickly relaxed his arm so Elektra would get the hint to let go of him. "I have no girls! Zero girls being had by me. Absolutely none." Natasha quirked an eyebrow at him. "Also no guys. Well, just like one guy. Kind of? I don't know. Maybe I'm being presumptuous. It's not like we've talked about it or anything, so I can't say for sure. But like, I'd like to be having a guy. A very specific guy."

T'Challa looked away from him with an expression on his face that could best be described as second hand humiliation, but Bucky was looking at him with a bright smile and mischievous eyes, so Steve could handle T'Challa's disappointment.

"Jesus Christ," Clint swore under his breath. "You sure do know how to pick em, Barnes."

Elektra sighed. "I think we've terrorized Steven enough. We should focus on the mission at hand. Why don't you boys do what you do best and walk around looking like you're getting things done while us ladies actually do all the work?"

Natasha gave her an appraising look. "Oh, I like her."

"Lord help us," Clint whispered. "There's two of them."

"As a man who literally just killed three rooftop guards while you strolled in through the door, I take offense at that statement." Sam surveyed the room. "We need to spread out and find Schmidt. I guess we need some kind of signal , since you three aren't on our comms?"

"Not necessary." T'Challa reached into his suit and pulled out three earpieces and put them on the table. "They're on our comms now."

Elektra smirked at him. "Do you always walk around with Stark tech in your suit?"

"Pepper had a feeling I'd need them," he answered with a smile.

"Pepper!" Steve slapped his hand against the table. "I should have known you were talking about Pepper. Just for the record, she's not my girl. Or anyone's girl. Well, maybe you could say she's Tony's girl but really I think Tony is her guy , if you know what I mean?"

Natasha stared at him. "Is he always like this?"

Sam looked delighted by her question. "This oblivious? Yes." Steve looked at Sam with a 'thanks a lot pal' glare. Sam was unaffected. "This jittery and word-vomitty? No. I think you're bringing out the best in him, Natasha."

Clint laughed. "She always does. She's good at intimidating men. Now, what's our code word or whatever if we find Schmidt?"

"How about, 'Wow, man, your steel wings are even cooler than the last time I saw you and we beat each other up'?" Bucky smirked at Clint over the top of his Champagne flute and Steve took the moment of distraction to openly stare at Bucky without him noticing. His hair was swept up and off to the side in a perfect, natural swoop. There was a shadow along his jaw where his stubble was already growing back even though the scent of aftershave suggested he had just shaved this evening. Someone, most likely Natasha, had done a pretty good job of using makeup to hide the bruises Steve had trailed along his neck last night. It wasn’t enough to prevent the collar of his shirt from rubbing away some of the concealer and an exposed piece of a blue-purple bruise contrasted nicely with the pitch black of his shirt. Steve silently prayed to all the gods to thank them for Pepper Potts, because Bucky's suit fit him perfectly. He could appreciate how amazing Bucky looked in his suit, but frankly, Steve mostly just wanted to get him out of it.

His thoughts were interrupted by Clint spluttering. "Okay, you know what, I think I'm allowed to be impressed by a set of fucking steel wings."

"Everything about Sam is impressive." T'Challa didn't acknowledge the fact that he just made a sweet remark and instead moved on to what were clearly more important matters. "The phrase will be 'have you tried the strawberry champagne’. When you hear the phrase, meet back at this table and we'll figure out the best way to approach the situation. There are a lot of civilians here as well as security and HYDRA agents, so we need to be strategic."

"We should probably split up," Sam suggested.

"Dibs on Natasha!" Clint crowed.

Elektra cleared her throat. "I also want dibs on Natasha." She grinned like a wolf and Steve was overcome with the feeling that some unholy, kickass partnership had been forged between her and Natasha despite them only having exchanged a total of about five words.

"Alright. I am more than okay with this. Meet you guys back here." Clint linked his other arm with Elektra and allowed himself to be steered away from the table by the two most terrifying women in the room.

"On one hand, I want to avoid pairing off with our boyfriends like this is some kind of high school dance, but on the other hand I know you work well together." Sam pointed at Steve and Bucky. "You two behave." T'Challa huffed a laugh , but followed Sam away from the table.

Bucky smiled at Steve. "Well, looks like it's just you and me. What are the chances?"

"You know, Sam once told me that once is an incident, twice is a coincidence, and three times is a pattern." He found himself surprised to realize this was the sixth time he had run into Bucky. "At this rate, we're way past 'pattern'. It's more like 'inescapable' at this point."

"Inescapable , " Bucky mulled the word over. "Would you escape if you could?"

Steve leaned into Bucky, his lips brushing against the shell of his ear as he whispered, "Not a chance. You're stuck with me now." He was gratified to see a blush creeping its way up Bucky's neck. Steve dragged his finger over the barely visible bruise there and Bucky gave a little shiver. "You know, this suit looks really good on you. I bet--"

"He bets it would look really good on his bedroom floor, too." Steve cringed at Tony's voice coming through their comms. "Cap, stop seducing your boyfriend and get to work. You can peel that ridiculously amazing suit off of him later. Right now, you have a bad guy to find."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Thanks, Q."

"Q! No way! The guy with the locks and cameras?" Bucky was way more excited about having Tony on the other end of the comm than he should have been. Steve envied his innocence Re: Tony Stark.

Tony clicked his tongue on the other end. "I got a lot more than locks and cameras, pal. Maybe if you play your cards right, you can see my whole arsenal."

"That sounds like a weird come on , " Bucky frowned at Steve.

Steve pulled him away from the table in the opposite direction that Sam and T'Challa had gone. "It always does with Tony."

Bucky was scanning the room, trying to pay less attention to the conversation Steve had been sucked into. Somebody had pulled Steve aside and launched into this huge tirade about needing to save the fireflies. Bucky hadn't been aware they were in danger, but now that he knew , he was getting kind of sad. He liked fireflies - they were fucking beautiful and they reminded him of clear night skies, warm green grass, and soft breezes.

Steve nodded solemnly along with the man who was waving his arms all over the place. "I agree, we do need to protect the magic of nature. What can we do to fix it?"

The man took a deep breath, ready to drop some truth bombs on Steve, but he was interrupted by the arrival of some sleazy looking guy. "Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barnes, you're wanted in the penthouse."

Firefly guy gave Sleazeball a look that said how dare you interrupt my crusade to save the lightening bugs . Bucky had to agree with Firefly guy.

Bucky clocked the gun in Sleazeball's jacket. "Wanted by who exactly?" Sleazeball didn't say anything, but gently patted the spot where his gun was, as if that was some kind of answer.

Bucky looked at Steve and raised an eyebrow. Steve shrugged. It looked like he was trying to say something with just his eyes but, honestly, they weren't on a level where Bucky could decipher it.

Steve sighed. "Alright then, lead the way."

Bucky walked next to Steve as they followed Sleazeball to the elevator. Steve gave him the same look from before, but Bucky still wasn't getting it - he squinted his eyes and shook his head, trying to convey that he was not understanding the silent communication. The elevator was lined with mirrors and Steve stopped trying to speak with his eyes. Although, why he was worried about Sleazeball seeing the look was beyond Bucky - if he couldn't tell what Steve was trying to say, there was no way some low grade henchie was going to get it.

They rode the elevator in painful silence up several floors. A bright, cheery ding sounded as the doors slid open to reveal a hall with a door at the end. Sleezeball pulled out his gun and shooed Bucky and Steve out of the elevator with it. He pointed at the door and grunted.

Bucky looked over his shoulder. "You're not even going to walk us to our door? Not very gentlemanly of you, Sleazy."

"I hope he kills you both," Sleazeball responded as the elevator doors shut.

"That doesn't bode very well for us, does it?" Bucky looked at Steve to find he was already staring at him.

"Listen, I was trying to tell you the comms are dead. Something is wrong. Whatever is on the other side of this door is most definitely bad news." Steve frowned and Bucky laughed out loud, because he hadn't even noticed the comms were dead. He was so used to their shitty tech that radio silence was normal for him. "I. I don't see why you're laughing?"

Bucky cleared his throat. "No, you're right. I shouldn't be laughing. I'm just in a weird place right now because the comms are always fucking down, we just got lead to a creepy door at gunpoint, I'm worried about the fireflies, and you look really fucking good in that suit, and I'm just really not sure what emotions I'm supposed to be feeling right now? Laughter is kind of like, my go-to defense mechanism."

Steve stepped closer to him, his face just inches away. "You think I look good in this suit? You should see me out of this suit." Bucky's lips curled up in a smile and the laugh bubbling up his throat was cut off as all the breath in his body escaped when Steve kissed him. Steve's hands trailed over Bucky's chest and he gave an involuntary shiver.

Bucky knew in the back of his mind that he really shouldn't be putting so much stock in a kiss with a man he barely knew, but the feel of Steve's lips against his, warm and soft and so sure , was very comforting.

"Okay. All previous emotions have been pushed aside to make room for blinding lust," Bucky breathed out as Steve pulled away.

"Well, I hope it's blood lust and not regular lust, because I have a feeling we're going to need to kill some people when we open that door." Steve stepped back and pulled a knife out of his jacket, slipping it carefully into the sleeve of his coat for easy access.

Bucky unbuttoned his jacket so that he could quickly reach his gun. "I don't see why the two are mutually exclusive. Something about seeing you murder people really gets me in the zone."

"I can assure you, the feeling is mutual." Steve stepped forward, his hand on the doorknob. "Ready?"

Bucky took one big breath in and slowly exhaled. "Ready."

Steve threw the door open and Bucky followed immediately after him, ready for anything. Or, at least, he thought he was ready for anything, but the sight of their friends bound and gagged stopped him cold in his tracks. His attention was quickly drawn to a man waltzing into the room, dragging Natasha along with a gun to her head. She looked like she had put up a good fight , but she had at least a broken wrist and possibly a sprained ankle. No. No no. No no nonononoooo. Bucky pulled out his gun and Steve pulled his knife out. "Ah, ah. Put down the weapons. Or I blow her brains out." Bucky held his gun steady, but Natasha shook her head, her eyes pleading with him to listen. This guy was clearly the brains of the operation, which meant he had to be Johann Schmidt.

Bucky put his gun down on the ground and Steve followed suit, dropping his knife in front of him. The henchie who had been holding a gun to Sam stalked over to collect their weapons. Bucky had no extra weapons with him, but apparently Steve did, because the guy pulled a gun out of Steve’s jacket.

“This is a pretty fancy lookin’ gun,” the henchman noted. He aimed it at Sam and pulled the trigger. Bucky flinched, ready for chaos to break loose, but nothing happened. The gun had remained silent. As in, inoperationally silent. He tried firing it again, checked the safety, and fired again. Nothing happened.

“Performance issues?” Bucky smiled at the guy, but he just frowned back. “Don’t worry, I’ve heard it’s very common, especially among men who associate with the literal scum of the earth and have shit for brains.”

The henchman shoved the gun in Bucky’s face and pulled the trigger. Once again, unsurprisingly, the gun did not go off. Schmidt narrowed his eyes at the henchman. “Are you done?” he hissed. The guard gritted his teeth before bitterly shoving the gun back into Steve’s jacket and resuming his station by the prisoners.

Schmidt cleared his throat, trying to regain some composure. "I believe the phrase you're looking for is, 'have you tried the strawberry Champagne'." He surveyed the room. "But I suppose your friends are all painfully aware that you've located me, so there's no need to use the code. I know it seems excessive, having all of them here for this, but if you cooperate, none of them have to die."

Steve's fists clenched at his sides. "What do you want?" Bucky had never heard him sound so angry, not even that first night when he stole Strucker out from under him.

"It's quite simple, Rogers. I want the two of you to work for me. You've managed to take down five of my organizational pillars seemingly single handedly. You're the best at what you do and I could use your skills." Schmidt smiled. "Your friends can go free if you agree to stay."

"Fuck you," Bucky spat.

Steve laughed. "Honestly, Schmidt? You think we would work for HYDRA, after spending so much time and energy tearing it down? You're insane."

"I think, given the right incentive, you will decide to work for me. The incentive being that if you work for me, your friends get to live. If you try to resist, your friends all die slow, painful deaths in front of you, because of you." Schmidt smiled, like this was a pleasant discussion about the weather.

There was silence as Bucky and Steve considered the options. There really weren't any. They were outnumbered and outgunned. Steve gave Bucky another meaningful look, which he could once again not decipher , but he got the feeling Steve had a plan. He fucking hoped Steve had a plan.

"Send the guards away so we know our friends will be safe, then we can sign a contract or whatever it is you want. But we're not doing anything until the guards all leave." Steve crossed his arms in a way that Bucky assumed was meant to be intimidating , but really just looked petulant.

Schmidt nodded. "Alright. All of you, leave. Lock the door on the way out." The henchman all abandoned their posts and filed out of the room, the door closing with a resounding click as the last one left. Schmidt still had Natasha at gunpoint. "I've held up my end of the deal. Now, let's talk details."

Bucky narrowed his eyes. "I'd rather die than work for you."

"Well, that wasn't part of the deal, but I can offer an alternative. How about she dies instead?" Natasha jostled just enough as Schmidt pulled the trigger that his shot went wildly off course and missed her head completely, which was the good news. The horrible news was that the bullet had found its home in Natasha's chest. She fell to the floor as blood, stark red against her pale skin, started pouring from the wound. Schmidt looked down at her with a look of shock, like he had never actually done his own dirty work before.

Bucky took advantage of the distraction and lunged at Schmidt, tackling him to the ground. The gun flew from Schmidt's hand , out of reach for either of them. Bucky wrestled with Schmidt on the ground briefly before managing to drag him into a standing headlock position. Bucky had his arm wrapped around Schmidt's neck, but he was struggling too much for Bucky to be able to apply any real pressure.

Schmidt kept yelling unintelligibly, throwing his elbows wildly. He made contact with Bucky’s temple on one particularly crazy flail, and Bucky’s ears started ringing.

Steve pulled his gun out and had it trained on Schmidt.

Bucky recognized that at this distance, if Steve’s gun was working, the bullet would travel straight through Schmidt and directly into Bucky's own body. Thankfully, Steve’s gun was a piece of shit and he didn’t have to worry about getting shot with a bullet that had passed through a fucking HYDRA douche bag’s body. Bucky deliriously thought this was hilarious - the agents working for Hill had broken weapons and the comms were down and everything was awful because Schmidt was digging around in his pocket, muttering about bombs.

Steve's hand was shaking. "Do you trust me, Buck?"

Natasha's words flooded in his brain, You can never trust anyone , but Bucky ignored them. "With my life."

Steve smiled at him and brought his other hand up to steady his gun. Schmidt was yelling some shit about Hail Hydra and cutting off heads, but Bucky had heard that enough in the last few weeks to last a lifetime. Steve's gun went off three times and Bucky had about half a second to close his eyes and freak the fuck out about the imminent injury before Schmidt's body went silent and still in his arms. Bucky dropped the body and cracked an eye open, expecting the pain to flood his body at any moment.

Instead, he opened his eyes to find the air shimmering in front of him. "Am I dead? Is this heaven? Is that why everything looks shimmery?"

Steve had the audacity to laugh and the shimmering plane disappeared. Steve was crouched over Natasha, ripping off his jacket to apply pressure to her wound. "I hope you're not dead, otherwise Stark is going to be very angry his forcefield pin technology doesn't work."

Bucky looked down at his chest to find an American flag pinned to his lapel. "When did that get there? And why did your gun suddenly work?"

Steve hauled Natasha up in his arms. "I put it there earlier and that’s the magic of Stark tech. Now untie our friends. We need to get out of here."

Bucky snapped out of his trance, hurrying to untie everyone. He was nearly done when the large picture windows exploded, raining glass down on everyone in the room as two people barrel rolled into the room. Bucky grabbed a piece of glass and sliced through the rope at T'Challa's wrists before spinning to face the new threat. It wouldn't do much good against a gun, but a shard of glass was better than nothing. Anything can be a weapon if you try hard enough. Anything can be a weapon if you try hard enough. Anything can be a weapon---

"Stand down, Dumpster Babe, we come in peace." The man held up his hands in a placating gesture, but Bucky just narrowed his eyes at him, still gripping the glass. The guy rolled his eyes. "Please, I'm not intimidated by you. I know for a fact you cuddle dogs during assassination attempts."

Bucky dropped the glass when he realized Pepper was the other person who had rolled into the penthouse. She had already rushed over to help Steve with Natasha, who was trying to wave them both away. "Who the fuck are you and why did you call me Dumpster Babe?"

"Yeah, I'll have you know, I'm the resident dumpster king around here." Clint stood next to Bucky and crossed his arms.

Pepper gave a long suffering sigh. "Bucky, Clint, Natasha, this is Tony, aka Q. Technology and Weapons Specialist for Hill, Inc."

Tony walked over and tapped Bucky on the chest where the flag was pinned to his suit. "I'm the reason you're still alive. And I just assumed you were dumpster diving with your dear friend , Flint."

"Can we get Natasha on the jet before she bleeds to death?" Steve still had Natasha draped in his arms. She looked more ready to murder Steve for taking care of her than she was ready to bleed to death, so Bucky figured she was fine.

Natasha scoffed. "I'm not some damsel in distress. I don't need you to carry me onto the jet. I can do it myself."

Steve smiled at her. "Oh, I'm fully aware that you're a strong, independent woman. But being vertical is going to make the blood rush worse and I'd rather not have you pass out."

"He has a point." Some random fucking dude said from where he was hanging in the window now. "The jet is parked out here on the landing pad, but it's only a matter of time before we get noticed. I can take care of Natasha's wound on the jet."

Bucky narrowed his eyes at the new guy. "Now who the fuck is this?"

"Oh. Sorry. Hi. Bruce Banner. Medic." Banner gave a small smile and a wave. "I can wrap your hand up too."

Bucky looked down and realized his hand was bleeding from gripping the glass shard. Huh. He hadn't even realized that had happened.

There was a pounding at the door and Tony clapped his hands together. "Well, that sounds like our invitation to leave. Scurry along now, children." He stood at the window and waved his arm, making sure everyone got through ahead of him.

Bucky stopped and tried to push Tony through the window. "Go on. I'll follow you."

Tony pulled something out of his pocket. "Listen, pal. I only get into the field like once a year. This is my chance to test out this grenade with a controlled blast zone outside of the safety of my lab. I'm waiting for some assholes to come through that door and I'm going to throw this grenade at them. I'd really rather not have you waiting around and getting limbs blown off in the process of my experiment." There was more pounding and the hinges were straining on the door. Tony pulled the pin on his grenade. "So, just get on the jet because I think Steve would kill me if I hurt you."

Bucky didn't know what to say to that, so he just nodded and climbed out the window and headed for the jet. He heard the door burst open and Tony yell something, which he took as his cue to run to the jet. He had just gotten aboard when Tony rolled into the jet behind him and then they were airborne, the door sliding closed on a fiery explosion down below.

Sam looked out the window and laughed as they flew away from the wreckage. "Hill is never going to let you out in the field again. There's going to be nothing left for Karen and Jane to find down there."

"He's just saving them the effort," Elektra pointed out. She was braiding Nat's hair as Banner worked to close the gunshot wound on her chest. "They'll be grateful for it."

Clint was on the other side of Elektra, holding Nat's hand and brushing the stray hairs from her face. Banner silently worked around the two of them, which Bucky respected. He would have been stabbing Clint with a scalpel to get him out of the way if he were in Banner's position. It wouldn't have been the first time, actually.

"I'm no medic, but I know how to wrap a cut." Steve held up some gauze and tape in front of Bucky and nodded over to some seats in the back of the jet. Bucky sat in the seat across from the window so he could watch the night sky as they flew towards...wherever the fuck they were going. Bucky realized how much he had come to trust Steve over such a short period of time. Steve took his hand and put it palm up in his lap while he wiped away the extra blood with a cloth. "We're headed back to headquarters, by the way." Steve unraveled some gauze and started gently wrapping Bucky's palm with the soft material. "Hill is going to be there and she's going to want to talk to you guys."

Bucky watched as Steve wrapped up his palm. He had seen Steve kill a man with his bare hands and something about watching him use those same hands to heal him sent a warm feeling through his chest. "She's going to want to talk to us or she's going to want to recruit us?" Steve just laughed. "What is her recruitment style compared to Pepper?"

Steve ripped a piece of medical tape from the roll using his teeth, which Bucky found disproportionately attractive. "Hill certainly isn't going to give you any more presents to bribe you." His eyes raked over the suit Bucky was wearing and he had a feeling Steve was very grateful for the presents he had already received. "She's more of a 'here's your options but you better decide to work for me' kind of person."

Bucky considered that. "And if we decide not to work for her? Will there be... consequences ?" Steve had finished wrapping his hand , but he still held it gently in his lap.

"You make it sound like she's going to send you away in a body bag if you turn her down." Steve laughed. "She's not going to make you stay, but she'd be disappointed if you decided not to." He pulled Bucky's hand up to his mouth and kissed his knuckles. "I'd be disappointed too." Steve looked up at him through his eyelashes, his soft lips pressed to Bucky's hand.

Bucky gently removed his hand from Steve's and abruptly pulled him in for a kiss as Steve's suit jacket bunched up in his fist. Steve's hand landed on his knee and Bucky could feel the heat of his palm as he slowly worked his way up Bucky's thigh. Bucky shifted, leaning more into Steve, trying to get closer as Steve's hand curled possessively around his hip. He was starting to wonder if anyone would even notice if he just climbed into Steve's lap when there was an announcement over the jet speakers.

A posh voice filled the jet cabin. "We are beginning descent. Landing at headquarters in approximately three minutes."

"Thank you, Jarvis." Tony sat down and buckled himself into a chair. "While I'm sure Steve's arms of steel are an excellent safety measure, I'd suggest strapping in with your harness. I haven't really had a chance to test how well Jarvis can land the jet yet. Test runs tend to be a little shaky."

Bucky rolled his eyes , but did as he was told. "Sounds like Jarvis could use a few lessons from Clint."

"Give him a break; he's doing really well for a newborn AI." Tony smirked at him. "But I'm sure the dumpster king could show him a thing or two, if you guys decide to stick around. And I promise, the comms are usually not so easily hacked."

"Is everyone on this jet trying to recruit us?" Natasha groaned as she sat up and buckled herself into a chair. Bucky was pleased to see the bleeding had been stopped and she was only grimacing when she moved her arm. The injury must not have been that bad.

T'Challa nodded. "You're excellent agents. We could really use your expertise."

"We need more women around the office. Someone has to keep the boys out of trouble." Elektra gave Nat a smirk and Bucky was once again terrified at what kind of Hell could be unleashed by the pair of them.

Sam laughed. "Honestly, I just don't want to deal with Steve moping around if you guys leave." Bucky raised an eyebrow at Steve, who just shrugged in response, like he was saying yeah, I'd mope and I'm not ashamed.

The jet landed with more finesse than Bucky would have expected from a computer program. "And you guys wouldn't have to live in a warehouse anymore. We have really great benefits." Pepper added as she typ ed away on a tablet while simultaneously removing her harness. Bucky suspected she was already drawing up some kind of hiring documents.

The jet door slid open to reveal a woman standing on the hangar, her hands behind her back, hair pulled up in a no-nonsense bun. "Welcome back everyone. Stark, Potts, Banner, Wilson, T'Challa, Natchios and Rogers - fall out." Judging by the way everyone hustled to comply, Bucky assumed this was Hill.

Steve gave Bucky's hand one quick squeeze. "Remember, no body bag. You have a choice here. You'll always have a choice." And then he left.

Hill strolled onto the jet. "Barnes. Barton. Nice to meet you." She nodded at Natasha. "Romanoff. You've looked better."

Clint threw his hands up. "Do you secretly know everyone?" Natasha shrugged, clearly not ready to give up all of her secrets yet.

"I think you all know that I want you to join the team. So , here's your chance. You can join us at Hill, Inc. and have a comfortable job, or you can continue to live in a warehouse and scrape by, just trying to survive. If you decide to leave, Jarvis will take you back to the warehouse now. What will it be?"

Bucky looked at Clint and saw immediately that he would do whatever Natasha decided to do . N ot because he was following her blindly, but because he just wanted her to be happy and he'd do anything to make that happen.

Natasha locked eyes with Bucky and a feeling of overwhelming want was there. He could tell she wanted to say yes, she wanted to have a home, she wanted to have a team of wild women and sassy tech specialists. She wanted to trust people again. But she was going to leave it up to him to make the call.

Bucky considered his options. He loved working with Natasha and Clint - they were the unstoppable murder squad and they could do whatever the fuck they wanted because they answered to no one. But he looked at Natasha's chest, where there had been a gaping hole before and he was overcome with the feeling that it was only a matter of time before they ran into something too big, too dangerous, and one of them wasn't going to make it.

Bucky's lips curled up in a smile. "What's your policy on office relationships?" Judging by the cheer that went up from somewhere inside the hangar, the others had been eavesdropping.

Hill rolled her eyes. "I don't care what you do in your spare time, Barnes. The only rule is no fucking in the field. Now , get some rest. We'll talk details tomorrow." She turned on her heel and stalked off across the hangar. Bucky helped Clint support Natasha as they climbed out of the jet.

Sam was grinning as they walked up to the other agents. "Welcome to the team. My place is just a few blocks away if you wanted somewhere to crash." T'Challa glared at him, obviously not pleased with the idea of someone else staying at Sam's place.

"My place is closer and my spare bed is more comfortable," Elektra offered.

"And Murdock is out on a mission tonight," T'Challa pointed out, giving Sam a look . Sam was either blissfully unaware of the glare he was receiving, or he was choosing to ignore it. Either way, Bucky was amused.

Natasha laughed, whether it was at T'Challa's obvious annoyance or at people clamoring to have them sleep in their beds was up for debate. "Closer is better. I'm exhausted. Show us the way, Elektra." Bucky went to follow, still supporting part of Nat's weight.

Elektra pushed him out from under Natasha's arm, slipping easily into his place. "Sorry, James. Spare bed only sleeps two. You'll have to find alternative lodging." She gave Steve a wink before walking off with Nat and Clint.

"My spare bed is still up for grabs if yo---" Sam was silenced by T'Challa pulling him in for a kiss. They broke apart, breathless. "Never mind. No room at my place. Good night." He wrapped his arm around T'Challa's waist and pulled him away towards the building.

Bucky turned to Steve, who was watching Sam and T'Challa saunter away, giggling at each other. "Well, looks like it's just you and me again."

Steve blushed at him and Bucky was reminded of that first night he had seen Steve, standing out on a corner, bathed in the pale light of a street lamp. "I don't have a spare bed."

"Steve, I think we both know that even if you had a spare bed, that's not where I'd be sleeping." He closed the distance between them, wrapping one hand around Steve's hip and the other around his neck.

Steve laughed. "Awfully presumptuous of you to assume I'd let you in my bed." His hand had snaked under Bucky's jacket, the heat of his palm radiating through his shirt and warming the small of his back. Steve leaned in, pressing kisses along Bucky's jaw.

"I have it on pretty good authority that I'm stuck with you now." Steve pulled back and grinned at him, the smile reaching his bright blue eyes. "Besides, I always get my guy," Bucky said while he pulled him in by the tie and kissed him. He could feel Steve still smiling through the kiss and a warm, content feeling curled through his chest.

He could get used to this.