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The metal of the corridor vibrated under his footsteps.
The metal arm moved before Steve could even react: a sharp, surgical blow that caught his shield and sent him back a half step.
Not enough to fall.
Steve advanced again.
His shield had been thrown away, as if he weren't fighting the most dangerous assassin of all time.
The Asset welcomed him without hesitation.
The first impact was a silent explosion: metal against skin, strength against weakness, two bodies designed to never stop.
Then the Asset changed pace.
Too fast.
A blow to the side, one to the knee, a rotation that would have broken anyone not built like Steve.
A wall shattered behind them.
Chunks of concrete and steel fell like industrial snow.
Steve dodged the falling pieces, moving Assett out of their way, getting too close.
The Asset smiled faintly, empty.
And he lunged again.
Blow after blow.
Closer.
More personal.
The metal of his arm gripped the other's helmet, pulling, stripping it.
Dragging the supersoldier's body forward.
"You are my mission." the asset gritted his teeth. "And I finish my missions."
One last blow.
The clear blue eyes turned gray.
***
"Buck! It was just a nightmare, don't worry, you're safe, we're safe."
Bucky was breathing heavily, leaning forward, his head tucked between his knees.
The smell of paper and ink, of vanilla and coffee, the smell Bucky associated with home, was calming him.
"I killed you." Bucky swallowed. "You're dead."
A gentle hand stroked Bucky's hair.
"Buck, I'm here." With slow, gentle movements, Steve moved Bucky so that he was lying on top of Steve, Bucky's head resting on Steve's chest.
Bucky remembered spending every night lying like that, listening to Steve's heartbeat, calming himself with the knowledge that Steve was alive.
That he would live a new day.
“You didn't kill me,” Steve murmured. “You recognized me. You stopped, you protected me.”
“I was the reason you almost died,” Bucky replied, tears falling from his eyes.
“HYDRA almost killed me,” Steve whispered. “You're the one who saved me.”
Bucky swallowed.
“When I'm with you, I'm safe, Bucky,” Steve said. “It's not your fault, love.”
Bucky sniffed.
“Are you staying with me?”
“Until the end of the line,” Steve promised. “And, you know? Even beyond.”
Bucky smiled slightly.
Only Steve could sleep with his near-murderer, holding him like a sweet teddy bear.
Bucky loved that little punk.