Chapter Text
When Marcus Hinton opens his eyes and sees the man standing over him with a raised eyebrow, he shudders. It's the metal armed assassin from that fight with Captain America in DC six months ago. He'd seen the news footage. He's tied to a chair and his head aches where the assassin hit him in the head.
“What do you want with me?” Marcus tries to keep his voice from shaking. The assassin stares at him for a minute, head tipped to the side.
“Who sent you?” He asks instead of answering Marcus.
“What?”
“Who sent you to Captain America's residence?” The man doesn't have the black mask he wore in DC, but Marcus can't pick out any expression on his face even without it.
“I—”
“Why were you there?” The man cuts him off. His voice is quiet but rough. Marcus presses his lips together tightly and the man almost smirks at him before pulling out a knife. Marcus swallows hard.
“He—I was sent to dig up dirt,” Marcus admits quickly. There's finally an emotion on the man's face, but it doesn't make Marcus feel any better, because it's cold fury. He leans up close, right in Marcus's face.
“The Captain has no dirt,” he hisses. “Who sent you?”
Marcus's breath is picking up. The knife is very, very close to his thigh. “Tony Stark!” He blurts, voice a little high pitched. He doesn't see the metal arm come up to knock him out again.
“I'm just saying, we need to look harder for the Winter Soldier,” Tony repeats himself stubbornly. Steve very carefully does not cross his arms over his chest.
“You can look as hard as you want,” Natasha tells him, sounding bored. “You'll never find him until he lets himself be found.”
“I don't think we should waste resources on a manhunt that's never going to come to fruition,” Steve says evenly. Tony snaps his head around to glare at Steve.
“Oh, I know why you think we shouldn't waste resources,” Tony sneers. Steve keeps his face impassive. “Just because you think he was once upon a time your long lost—”
Steve's fist comes down hard on the table, and he's almost as surprised as everyone else. “Don't,” He warns, teeth clenched.
“Tony,” Bruce says placatingly. “You saw the pictures of that bank vault.”
“There's no evidence he was kept there,” Tony insists. The edge of the table creaks in protest where Steve's holding onto it too tightly. “We have no real evidence he was tortured and brainwashed. We need to bring him in and hand him over to the authorities so they can decide—”
Steve interrupts him again by snapping the arm rest of his chair. It's mostly an accident. “I'm not sitting here for this,” He snarls, pushing back from the table and storming out. It's the third time he's walked out of a meeting in as many weeks. Tony wants to bring Bucky in. Steve refuses to even discuss it. As he walks out, he hears Natasha's voice, low and angry, chiding Tony.
He rides the train home, back to Brooklyn where he's living these days since he left DC but won't move into the Tower. He might've considered it if not for Tony's stance on Bucky. He pours himself a cup of coffee when he gets in and has just put a chocolate chip banana muffin on a plate to set it hopefully on the windowsill when said window opens and Bucky pops through. Steve jumps.
“Jeez, Buck!” He shakes the spilled coffee off his hand. “Scared me to death. Where've you been? It's been two days.”
“Why is Tony Stark sending people to dig up dirt on you?” Bucky never tells Steve where he goes when he disappears. At least he didn't vault over to Steve and cover his mouth; he must've already swept the room and determined there are no bugs. Steve stares at him.
“What?”
“Three men have entered your apartment while you were out in the last two days. All of them admitted Stark sent them.”
Steve has a lot of questions about everything in that sentence; questions about why Bucky's been monitoring his apartment but not coming inside, where he went, what admitted exactly entails. He's learned by now Bucky won't answer any of those, though, so he settles for handing Bucky his coffee and pouring another mug for himself.
“I don't know,” He says with a shrug. Bucky gives him a look. He's always been able to tell when Steve's lying.
“He knows I'm here. Or he thinks he knows. You're not safe with me here.” He shakes his head.
“I'm not safe with you not here,” Steve points out. “If you didn't grab those guys, who knows what would've happened. Tony might've finally found out if I wear boxers or briefs.”
Bucky purses his lips. “This isn't a joke, Steve. I need to leave. For good.”
“No, you don't. You can hide perfectly fine from here.”
“Obviously not,” Bucky huffs. “You're not good at this, Steve. You show too much on your face.”
“I haven't shown anything!” Steve argues, though it is true that if one of them's slipping up the chances of it being Bucky are almost none. “Stark's mad because I won't agree to looking for you and bringing you in.”
“Maybe you should. Throw him off.” Bucky starts pacing.
“I'm not letting anyone think, even for a second, that I'd turn you in,” Steve throws back.
“It's too dangerous, Steve, I should go, I—”
“Where you go, I go!” Steve explodes. “Can't you see that by now? The most dangerous thing for me is you leaving.”
Bucky's stopped from saying anything else by footsteps down the exterior hallway. He's halfway out the window before Steve realizes and makes a desperate face.
I'll be back, Bucky mouths, exasperated, heading for the roof. Steve dumps the second coffee cup into the sink and looks at the abandoned muffin. He holds it out the open window and Bucky's flesh arm snakes down to grab it, thumb brushing against Steve's briefly in thanks. Steve resolutely does not look out the window, because he knows he'll see Bucky hanging precariously from the side of the building by his metal arm and the sight will just set Steve to hyperventilating in worry.
Steve can tell by the knock that his visitor is Natasha, but that won't be enough to get Bucky back inside. He knows Nat's an ally, kind of, but he won't let Steve tell anyone but Sam he's there. Steve lets her in with no word but a raised eyebrow.
“The more you argue with him, the more suspicious he gets,” Natasha says by way of greeting.
“I don't care,” Steve retorts stubbornly. “I'm not letting anyone hunt Bucky down like an animal.”
“We both know Stark will never find him.” Natasha dances around the fact that she, too, suspects Bucky is there with Steve, more for plausible deniability than anything else.
“It's the principle of the thing.”
Natasha smirks. “You and your principles.”
“If you don't have your principles, what do you have?” Steve philosophizes.
“Your life, a lot of times,” Natasha deadpans. “Look. You know I'm on your side. I'll take Stark down as many times as you need me to. I'm just saying...a lot of people are going to agree with him, say there should be some accountability. And he's not going to let this go. He saw the file, Steve. His parents—”
“I know.” Steve has to cut her off, mindful of Bucky up on the roof with enhanced hearing and a bottomless pit of guilt already. “But I'm not going to change my mind.”
Natasha looks at him for a long minute. “Okay,” She finally sighs. “Fine.”
“How's Clint dealing with all this?” Steve asks before she can turn to leave. Clint never chimes in at meetings about whether Bucky's guilty of his crimes, but Steve knows it has to be eating at him to hear Tony rail against the idea of Bucky being brainwashed, saying it's just an excuse to get out of paying his dues. Natasha purses her lips and her nostrils flare.
“He's on our side,” She says simply, and that tells Steve a lot. He dredges up a sad smile.
“You know I never blamed him, either.”
Natasha nods. “He knows,” she assures him. “And for that he'll follow you in this.”
She leaves, but Bucky doesn't come back right away. Steve sticks his head out the window and looks up, but of course he can't see anything.
“Fine, you big jerk,” he mutters. “But you better bring my plate back this time.”
Steve's in the shower when the bathroom door opens. He doesn't jump; he knows it's Bucky. It took months to convince Bucky to shower with him. Bucky always wanted to keep watch, just in case someone tried to attack Steve while he was vulnerable.
“Stop leaving the window open,” Bucky gripes, stripping off his shirt. “I can get it open from the outside and it's dangerous to leave it open.”
“If you can get it open from the outside, other people probably can, too,” Steve points out, moving over so Bucky can get in with him. “So what does it matter?”
“Can we at least keep the low-level criminals out?” Bucky complains, reaching around Steve for the shampoo. He lathers up Steve's hair, scratching his nails against Steve's scalp, and Steve makes an embarrassing little noise. “They're not worth ruining your carpet.”
“You remember my plate?” Steve asks without opening his eyes.
“Yes, Ma, I remembered,” Bucky snips even as he keeps massaging Steve's scalp.
“Well, you didn't last week,” Steve reminds him as they switch places and Steve works through the tangles in Bucky's long hair. “Now I'm down a plate in my set.”
“I'll steal you another,” Bucky promises carelessly, chin dropping to his chest as Steve kneads at the muscles in his neck.
“We could go to that pottery class at the community center and make a new one,” Steve suggests. Bucky starts laughing.
“Sure, Steve. I'm a wanted assassin with an incredibly recognizable cybernetic arm and you're a well-known celebrity. Let's go take a pottery class.”
Steve sniffs imperiously. “Fine. When this all blows over, you'll owe me a pottery class.”
He can't see Bucky's face, but he knows he's smiling sadly from the tone of his voice. “Sure, Stevie,” he says softly. “When this all blows over.”
Steve rests his forehead against the back of Bucky's shoulder, hands on Bucky's hips. “I don't want you to leave.”
Bucky sighs. “I don't want to ruin your whole life here by staying.”
Steve gently turns Bucky around to face him. Really, if Bucky didn't want to, he wouldn't move, but he goes with it. “I'd leave everything here for you.”
“And I'd break your heart to keep you safe,” Bucky tells him, eyes dark.
“I'd just follow you,” Steve repeats the earlier argument. “You can try all you want, but I'm not letting you run because you think you're dangerous for me. If I thought you actually didn't want to be here, I'd let you go.”
“That's not fair,” Bucky says softly. “You know the only place I want to be is here.”
Steve kisses him, long but soft and chaste. “That's why I'd follow you.”
Bucky doesn't say anything else, but Steve can tell he's at least thinking about it. Steve doesn't comment on the bruises on Bucky's side or the scratches on his flesh arm—it looks like he fell on it. He knows Bucky goes out and tracks down HYDRA agents, keeps a lookout for anyone coming after Steve. He kisses the bruises, slides a gentle hand across the scraping, then turns off the water and wraps a thick towel around Bucky's waist.
“Let's go to bed,” he suggests.
“It's seven o'clock.” Bucky points out even as his voice goes scratchy with exhaustion.
“You haven't slept in two days. Or did you sleep while you were out and about?” Steve raises an eyebrow because he knows he's right. Bucky can operate a long time without sleep; so can Steve, but just because they can doesn't mean they should.
They get dressed and Bucky does a last check of the apartment, making sure all the windows are closed and doors are locked. They settle into bed and it takes a few minutes for his muscles to lose their rigidity, to lose his vigilance and relax into Steve. It's his natural state these days, so he has to actively think about loosening up with Steve.
When he finally settles and nuzzles his face into Steve's neck, Steve smiles and turns his head to drop a kiss to Bucky's temple.
“Night, Buck,” he murmurs.
“Night, Steve.”
Steve can't tell if Bucky is awake or asleep when he wakes up the next morning. Bucky is completely still, a strange sight compared to the restless boy Steve fell in love with, and the only sign he's even still alive is the tiny puff of breath against Steve's neck. It doesn't really matter if Bucky's awake or not; if he's content to stay there, so is Steve.
But eventually, Bucky can't stand to just lie there, so he wriggles away from Steve and sweeps each room of the apartment. They're not allowed to talk until Bucky's made sure no one crept into the house and planted listening devices while they slept. Steve's not entirely sure how Bucky thinks that might've happened, considering they're both Army-trained light sleepers and Bucky hardly sleeps more than an hour at a time anyway, but he doesn't criticize Bucky's coping mechanisms.
“Clear,” Bucky finally calls from the kitchen, meaning Steve's allowed to get out of bed. When Steve gets out there, Bucky's pulling eggs from the fridge. “Omelet?”
“Sure, thanks, Buck.”
Steve's phone buzzes with a text from Sam. Sleeping better? To anyone checking Steve's phone records, it would sound like he's asking about Steve. Bucky had been hesitant, but when Steve pointed out that Sam was prone to dropping by unexpectedly, Bucky agreed to Steve telling him.
Five or six hours last night, I think. Steve replies. He knows Bucky got up and wandered around for a while, but he slept more than Steve's seen in the almost four months he's been there.
That's enough for a super soldier?
Close enough. Steve wishes Bucky would sleep more, but he knows that's a bit of a tall order. Five or six hours is almost astronomical.
How are you feeling? It's a question Sam never forgets to add.
Stark wants to go after Bucky.
That's not a feeling, Sam shoots back.
Frustrated. Steve acquiesces. Angry that he thinks Bucky should be a prisoner again.
I know, man, but all this is really complicated. Sam sends another text quickly after the first one. You know I'm still on your side.
You always are. Not sure I deserve you.
Bucky slides Steve's plate over to him. “Stop frowning,” he orders. “I made you breakfast—that doesn't get a smile?”
Steve gives him a huge, exaggerated grin that makes Bucky huff out a laugh and elbow him. “What are you doing today?” Steve asks.
Bucky shrugs. “Stay in, maybe, if you don't mind.” He doesn't quite meet Steve's eyes while he says it.
Steve's smile this time isn't fake. “Course I don't mind. We can catch up on some more movies.”
“Are we out of the seventies yet?” Bucky whines.
“You liked Rocky,” Steve points out. “It's a whole series. We can finish it.”
They're not even halfway through the Rocky 2 when Bucky sits up straight, a finger pressed to his lips, tipping his head toward the door. Steve holds his breath and listens, finally hearing a distant sound of footsteps from multiple pairs of feet in heavy boots. Bucky disappears into the bedroom and comes out with Steve's shield and his rifle. He leans the shield against the table, in easy reach from the door, and goes back to the bedroom to duck behind the wall, ready to provide backup if necessary or slip out the bedroom window if there's no threat.
Steve works on keeping his face neutral. Could just be some of his teammates dropping by to check up on him. There's a long pause between the footsteps stopping and the light knock. Steve hesitates an extra second before opening the door so it doesn't seem like he was waiting.
It's not his teammates.
“Captain Rogers, you need to come with us,” the man says calmly. There's five of them in the hallway, dressed like a STRIKE team.
“Come where?” Steve replies just as calmly. “Who are you?”
“I'm Major Samson. The Army requires your presence at a court-martial.”
Steve has to admit, he wasn't expecting that. “I'm not a member of the Army anymore,” he reminds Samson. “I can't be required for anything. Or court-martialed.”
Samson shifts slightly and Steve catches the black glint of a rifle on one of the men in the back. “Look, Captain. It will all be much easier if you come quietly.”
“Easier for you,” Steve agrees. Before Samson can move, Steve whips the shield at him and knocks him out. The men behind him start shouting and coming at Steve, but all of them suddenly drop back, mouths open in horror, and Steve glances over his shoulder to see Bucky standing at his side. Bucky grabs Samson's unconscious body.
“Who are you working for?” He asks the remaining soldiers. They turn and flee. Bucky snorts and drops Samson, heading after them. He's only gone for fifteen minutes before he comes back through the window, panting. He looks over the knots Steve used to tie up Samson, who's watching them with wide eyes and his mouth covered.
“Alive?” Steve checks.
“Yes, I left them alive. Even though they're working for HYDRA.”
“How can you tell?” Steve asks. “You recognize them?”
“None of them were ever high up enough to see me,” Bucky says in an odd mix of disgust and pride. “Real soldiers wouldn't leave their CO behind like that.”
“But how do you know they're HYDRA and not from Tony?”
“I assume Stark knows you well enough to know you're not just going to fall in just because the Army comes calling.” Bucky smirks at him. “Since he's known you for longer than ten minutes.”
Steve rolls his eyes. “Well. Now what do we do with them?”
Bucky frowns. “I've just been leaving Stark's guys on his doorstep,” he admits. Steve snorts at the internal picture. He kicks at Samson's chair.
“What about you?” He says darkly. “Any ideas?”
He can't answer, obviously, but he looks like he's about to soil his pants, and that gives Steve a sick little satisfaction.
“I guess we could still take 'em to Tony,” Steve says with a shrug. “He's sort of the new SHIELD.”
“They'll talk.” Bucky shakes his head. “They'll fold in a second and tell him we were both here.”
Steve didn't consider that. He scowls at Samson. “Guess we might have to kill them after we get our information.”
Samson's eyes bug out. Everyone seems to have some idea that Steve's never killed anyone, despite the fact that he was in a war. He doesn't like it, necessarily, but he'll kill anyone he has to if it means keeping Bucky safe.
“We won't,” Bucky corrects. “You're not doing it.”
“Buck.” Steve rolls his eyes.
“I'm serious, Steve. We're going to keep your hands clean as possible.” Bucky steps away, toward Samson.
“You think my hands are even remotely clean?” Steve argues. “I know you got your memories of the war back. And even if you didn't, you were there in Austria when Sam and I found that base.”
“I found that base.” Bucky smirks a little as he goads Steve and Steve can't decide if he wants to revel in Bucky teasing or explode because Bucky's being so casual about the fact that he's going to kill five men on his own and not let Steve help.
“Buck,” he says sharply.
Bucky goes rigid. “More people coming.” He darts to the door and peeks around it, then hurries to the window. “Stark.”
Bucky's gone before Tony gets to the door, so he finds Steve's door wide open and Samson bound to a chair with Steve standing off to the side.
“Whoa,” Tony says. “What's this?”
“HYDRA.” Steve shakes his head. “Not sure where he was going to take me, but he said he was Army and I needed to go with him.”
“HYDRA's getting sloppy if they're only sending one guy after you,” Tony sneers at Samson.
“Yeah.” Steve knows Bucky will take care of the other four. He doesn't even know where Bucky stashed them. “I guess they thought I would kowtow to authority.”
Tony snorts. “That's what they teach us in school. What are you going to do with him?”
“I was gonna kill him,” Steve says honestly. Tony looks a little taken aback but recovers quickly.
“Shouldn't we question him first? See who's pulling the strings?”
Steve and Bucky would've done that together if Tony hadn't interrupted them. And Bucky would've gotten the information in under an hour. Now Steve's in the awkward position of trying to talk his way out of this.
“I can handle it,” he tries.
Tony gives him a weird look. “Right here in your living room?”
Steve shrugs. “Thinking of tearing up the carpet and getting hardwood floors anyway.”
“I'll take him back to the Tower, let some of the old SHIELD guys take a crack at him.” Tony pulls out his phone.
“No,” Steve says quickly. “I want to do it. It's personal.”
Tony raises an eyebrow. “Personal, huh.”
“He came after me,” Steve points out.
Tony just stares at Steve for a minute, rolling his lips thoughtfully. “Where is he, Cap?”
“He's right in front of you.”
“Don't play dumb with me. Where's the Winter Soldier?” Tony looks angry now, but Steve's not worried in the slightest. Even if Tony calls out a suit, Steve can hide from him if he needs to.
“If I knew that, would I be here?” He counters.
“If he's here you would be.”
“Did you come over because you needed something, or did you hear about the HYDRA agent in my living room?” Steve tries to switch gears, but Tony's not taking it.
“Steve.” He takes a step closer. “You're not being objective about this.”
“And you are?” Steve finally blows up. “The only reason you care about bringing him in is because of your parents.”
“Forty. Forty casualties combined from when he went after Fury, the bridge, and the hellicarrier, Rogers. Forty casualties plus his credited thirty-six assassinations over the decades. That's why I want to bring him in.”
“He's not responsible for any of that!”
“How can you possibly know that?” Tony shoots back.
“Because I know him! Imagine if it was Rhodey, or Pepper, or Bruce; you would be doing exactly what I'm—”
“How fucking dare you,” Tony spits. “You think you're above the law?”
“He didn't do anything against the law. Unless a torture victim is somehow guilty now.”
They stand there, breathing heavily, jaws clenched, until Steve takes a deep breath. “Take Samson or don't. I don't care. But get the hell out of my house.”
Tony stalks to the door. “Someone will come to collect him,” he says without turning around.
“Better hurry,” Steve warns. “I'm not as patient as the history books say, either.”
Steve waits until Tony's been gone for fifteen minutes before closing the door and rounding on Samson. “You'll be taken into custody, but don't think I won't break in and kill you if you so much as blink at a picture of the Winter Soldier,” he threatens. He breaks two of Samson's fingers to convince him he's serious.
Steve doesn't talk to any of the recovery team who come for Samson. He only knows them in passing, anyway. Bucky doesn't come back until well into the night, after Steve's given up and gone to bed. He wakes up to the sound of the window sliding open and sits up just in case it isn't Bucky.
Bucky motions at him to lie back down and checks the apartment over. He doesn't come back for a while and Steve gets up to check on him. He's in the bathroom wiping blood from his bare feet. Looks like Steve'll have to get that hardwood floor after all.
“Yours?” Steve asks. Bucky grimaces.
“Some of it. Ran out without my shoes.”
Steve pulls out some bandages and drops to his knees by the tub, where Bucky's perched. They work quietly, a well-known rhythm of cleaning and bandaging from a lifetime of patching each other up.
“Stark take Samson?” Bucky asks once they're done and throwing away the bloodied rags.
“Yeah. I think I convinced him to keep his mouth shut.”
Bucky frowns. “I didn't want you to have to do that.”
“Buck, it's not the first time I've had to do something like that, and I'm sure it's not the last,” Steve says.
“Doesn't mean I like it,” Bucky murmurs. “You're better than all this. I could kill Erskine and the rest of them for turning you into this.”
“Saved you,” Steve points out, then cringes because of the time he hadn't been able to save Bucky and what had happened after. Bucky tweaks Steve's nose.
“Quit,” he orders. “Let's go to bed. We'll plan in the morning.”