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“Eh, Lady and Gents, this looks like as good as we’re gonna get,” Dugan said, frowning.
They’d finally lost their pursuers on the retreat. It hadn’t been easy. Ivchenko was dead weight. That man made Sousa look like an olympic sprinter. It was already dark and the cold, Jesus, Jack had never felt anything like the bitter wind. It was the kind of cold that could kill you quick. They couldn’t risk being out in the open in this weather.
Jack looked around the interior of the old barn. It didn’t look like it had been used in years. It was falling apart. But there was a small room half filled with old hay. The space was small. They would all just be able to squeeze inside. Due to the confined space, hay and bodies, it was likely no one would freeze to death. That was something, at least.
“We missed the rendezvous point,” Jack said, jaw tight. He’d seized up back there. Had to be rescued by fucking Carter of all people. What the hell was wrong with him? He couldn’t let it happen again. He needed to get on top of the situation.
“Yeah,” Dugan said, clearly irritated, but seemingly unsurprised. “They’ll circle back when we don’t show. They’ll find us.”
Jack frowned. “Two guys?” he asked. “You call that backup?”
Dugan laughed, giving him a condescending smile. “In this case, I do, yes.” He clapped his hands and rubbed them together against the cold. “We should dig in,” he said. “I’ll take first watch. We need to be out of here at sun up.”
Jack did a quick count. “If your guys show, there’s not going to be space.” It was already going to be a tight fit.
Dugan quickly glanced at Carter and then away. He shrugged nonchalantly. “We’ll make do.”
Jack looked at Carter. She was busy, talking to Sawyer about something. Jack knew she was pretending to be busier than she was. What was Dugan’s look about? He and Carter were obviously friendly. Maybe they were more than friends. Maybe that’s how she was able to call in this favor.
It seemed to be getting colder by the minute, so it wasn’t long before they all piled into the small room. It was a close fit and it didn’t smell real great, but they’d signed up for this. Everyone found a seat. It was close, even with several of the fellas sitting up, leaning back against the wall. They could squeeze one more guy in, maybe, but not two. No way.
Jack felt like he sat there for hours, freezing, but he must have finally dozed off. He woke to the sound of the door being cracked open. Fuck, he was cold. His nose was completely numb.
He made out Dugan’s outline, in the doorway. He was there with two other guys. Dugan swung out and kicked Pinkerton in the leg. “You’re up,” he said.
Pinkerton groaned, but rose to his feet and stumbled out into the dark. Dugan took his space, smacking Sawyer in the shoulder. “Scoot your skinny ass over,” he said. Jack could hear Sawyer moving. Then Dugan scooted over and one of the newcomers squeezed in, right next to the door. The other guy was still standing there. He pushed the door closed and carefully stepped to the other side of the room.
Jack could barely make him out, leaning over someone. He was pretty damn sure the someone he was leaning over was Carter. The guy touched her, whispering something and Jack heard a soft, questioning sound. He didn’t know Carter could make noises like that.
The guy knelt down and there was a bunch of re-arranging. Jack didn’t know how. There wasn’t room for another person in that space. He expected to hear more noises from Carter, but there weren’t any. Before long, everything was quiet.
Jack couldn’t get back to sleep. He sat there for hours, waiting for the light. Finally, the sun started to creep in through the slats in the loft. He looked across the confined space at Carter. She was laying on top of that guy. His coat was unbuttoned and she was mostly inside it, against his chest, her face buried in the juncture of his neck and shoulder. His arm was thrown across her waist, holding her close. His face was turned away, all Jack could see was his jaw. He looked like a big guy. So for all her sassy wit and feelings, apparently Carter liked ‘em gooney. Figured.
As Jack watched, Carter started to wake up, stretching and then curling tighter against that guy. Dugan’s backup. Jack didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all. This was why broads on missions were a terrible idea. Who the hell could get their job done with Carter over there practically going to town on some guy.
Jack heard footsteps and then the door was pushed open. Pinkerton stuck his head in. “Cap?”
Jack frowned. Cap?
Carter lifted her head, one eye squeezed tight against the light, a grimace on her face. She looked at Pinkerton and then poked her fella in the cheek. He grunted. “Pinky needs you,” she said quietly.
He lifted his head and looked at Pinkerton, scowling. All Jack could do was blink. Carter’s human pillow was Captain fucking America. Steve Rogers was supposed to be dead. What the fuck was going on?
Carefully, Rogers scooted out from under Carter, who made a very displeased noise. As soon as he stood, he shrugged out of his coat and wrapped it around Carter, who promptly cocooned herself in it and lay back down. The guy didn’t even have the decency to look cold. He just carefully stepped across people and went outside to talk to Pinkerton.
Soon, everybody began to rouse. Jack watched as Carter sat up. She looked ridiculous in that coat. It looked like a goddamn blanket.
Next to Jack, Ramirez looked at her. “Nice coat, Carter,” he said. Clearly, he’d slept through everything and had no idea what was going on.
Carter glared at Ramirez, but said nothing.
One by one, everyone started filing out into the bitter cold, gathering around the truck. There were a couple of motorcycles parked next to it now. Ramirez leaned in close to Jack and said, “Is that Captain America?”
“As far as I can tell, yeah,” Jack said.
“I thought he was dead,” Ramirez said, frowning.
Jack just shrugged. No one else seemed shocked by the fact that a supposedly dead guy was part of the 107th, or that Carter used him as a pillow. Jack didn’t want to make a fuss and look like a schmuck.
They all piled into the truck. Rogers took a seat next to Carter, still in his shirt sleeves. Sawyer rode Rogers’ bike, the other guy, Denier, took the other bike.
Ramirez elbowed Jack and said under his breath, “Carter and Captain America?”
Jack just stared at him. “It’s on the fuckin’ radio program, Rick. Everyone knows about Carter and him.”
Ramirez shook his head. “Yeah, but I didn’t know that they were … you know … actually together.”
Jack just shrugged, frowning. He supposed Ramirez has a point. Before today, the idea of Carter being with Captain America was kind of like Carter being with Mickey Mouse. You could joke about it, but nobody could really picture it.
Jack had spent a lot of time trying not to picture it. And now here he was, forced to look right at it. And it clearly wasn’t some joke, some punch line. They were together. Everyone in the truck knew it.
They finally got to the airstrip and Dugan played mother hen, shooing them all out of the truck, so Carter and Rogers could be alone. They weren’t in there for long, but Jack knew sometimes it didn’t take long. When they finally climbed out, Rogers had his coat back and Carter’s cheeks were awful rosy. They didn’t do anything obvious. No touching. No kiss. Not even a handshake as they parted company.
On the plane, Carter was quiet, looking out the window. Jack smirked at her.
“What?” she asked darkly, frowning.
“I was wrong, Carter,” he said. “I never shoulda said you served under a Captain.” He paused. “It’s pretty obvious you like to be on top.”
She just blinked at him. “I hate you.”