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Rating:
Archive Warning:
Category:
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Language:
English
Stats:
Published:
2014-06-19
Words:
367
Chapters:
1/1
Kudos:
21
Bookmarks:
3
Hits:
329

not without you

Summary:

What if Bucky hadn't fallen from Zola's train?

in which we all live vicariously through a pathetically short au

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

”Bucky!”

Steve’s shield, assailing their attacker while Steve reached out for his friend, fingers straining – and –

and –

their fingers connected just enough for Bucky to find a weak foothold and launch himself at Steve, who caught him by the arm and fell backwards onto the train floor, and Bucky huffed a weak laugh from where he lay against Steve’s chest, letting his head rest there for a moment. Rise, fall. Rise, fall. Life.

“That was close, huh?”

Steve shuffled backwards, breathless and grinning, and Bucky rose to help him up. He took Bucky by the shoulders and stared him square in the eye. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, yeah. I saved your punk ass. Let’s go.”

Together they took Zola into custody. Mission: success.

---

Bucky was patrolling the aircraft for stray HYDRA agents. Steve was up front facing Shmidt.

Then Steve was radioing frantically – “Bucky, I’ve got the plane! Shmidt’s down!” - and Bucky was patrolling the aircraft for an escape.

“You got anything, Buck?”

“Shit, shit, Steve, there’s nothing here; there’s this kamikaze bullshit but there’s nothing else. How are we gonna…”

And they both knew.

They both knew.

---

Gentle city sounds and radio coverage of a baseball game. Steve’s eyes opened slowly, his world off-kilter somehow.

To his right, a gentle beep. White curtains fluttering softly. Another beep. Another.

He sat up, legs flung to the left side of his bed, and turned to look over his shoulder; Bucky was asleep in a high-tech hospital bed, with tubes in his nose and a needle in the back of his hand.

Steve sighed softly, scrubbing a hand down his face, and made his way over to the chair next to Bucky’s bed. The machine continued its rhythmic beeping, though Steve elected to ignore it in favour of putting his palm against Bucky’s damp forehead to push his hair from his face.

Bucky stirred, and Steve bit back a smile. They had, against all odds, survived the crash.

“Hey, jerk.”

“…Ugh. Punk. Where are we?”

Steve turned his eyes to the radio for a moment, recognising the coverage as a replay, and then fixed his attention back on Bucky and flashed a bold smile.

“Let’s find out, shall we?”

Notes:

something i had been wanting to write for a while but ultimately brought into existence thanks to this gifset. vive la bucky barnes