It might have been because Harley was away on his first actually dangerous solo reconaissance, and there was a real possibility that the kid (okay, not really a kid, but he acted like one) might go off mission and do something that would get him into trouble that was nagging at him.
Or it might have been that seeing a kid in an alley looking worse for wear reminded him of another kid that used to happen to, a long, long time ago.
Whatever the reason, from his vantage point on a roof, Bucky stopped to watch the interaction between a grubby looking 12ish year old and two older teenager who looked much more well fed.
They were all being kind of furtive, speaking in low voices except when tempers flared. It seemed like the older kids--a guy and a girl--wanted the younger one to do something that he very much didn’t want to do.
He was unsurprised when the fight broke out, but he WAS surprised when the girl waved a hand and a trash can lifted off the ground all by itself to smash into the wall by the kid, scattering garbage. The other teen lifted a hand to spread fingers that were starting to glow a weird purple.
The Winter Soldier would have just shot them, but Bucky didn’t figure that was a good option, kids and all, even if they were magic or whatever, and picking on a smaller kid. He’d seen stuff like this before from Zed, and Harley wasn’t exactly normal, but this did complicate things.
The part of his mind that didn’t want to draw attention to his fugitive self suggested that he leave, but the part that was a fucking moron propelled him off the roof and onto a fire escape. From there, he jumped to the ground between the teenagers and the kid, his metal arm whirring as he picked up the trash can, flinging it at the attackers hard enough to bowl them over.
While they were picking themselves up, Bucky grabbed the kid and threw him up to the first fire escape level--which wasn’t all that graceful from either of them--then jumped onto a dumpster from which he was able to jump to the fire escape himself.
The kid looked scared and was staring at his arm like a kid who might have seen the highway fight in Washington on the news. “I’m less trouble than the trouble you had down there. I don’t want a damn thing from you, except that those shitheads don’t murder you in my neighborhood. Get moving. Up to the roof.”
Maybe the boy would have done as he’d been told, or maybe he wouldn’t, but a purple energy projectile hit the wall, sending brick chips flying, and giving him motivation to climb the damn ladder.
The boy ran to the exit door, but Bucky shook his head. “Too close. Your pals are too powerful to fuck around with. We need to jump to the next roof.”
“I can’t jump to the next roof!” The kid’s voice was shrill with adrenaline and fear.
Bucky looked at the boy, dark haired and wiry--older than he thought, but small. Fourteen? Fifteen? “What’s your name, kid?”
There was a sullen pause before he answered. “Miguel.”
“You don’t have to jump, Miguel. You just have to hold on while I do. Then we’ll get you away from here and you can go about your business.”
An even longer pause, and averted gaze, then, “They’ll find me. They have before.”
“Then I’ll show you how to hide, if you want, but for now, we gotta go.”
Once Miguel was holding on, Bucky ran the length of the roof, then jumped, his momentum carrying him across an alley to the next building, and from there to next.
He was kinda surprised the kid didn’t pee on him.
