It was something about sleeping in a house nearly alone that made Sharon’s skin crawl and even though she knew that James would probably return at an ungodly hour to her house because his father’s was ‘too crowded’ she couldn’t stand being alone.
Not anymore.
You could never be too sure who was going to be awake and who was going to be sleeping when your friends were insomniacs and agents and Sharon hated ringing people, risking waking them up. There was one person though that she knew was going to be awake no matter what.
Bucky.
Throwing on a jacket and her shoes Sharon filled up a thermos with coffee and wandered towards the school, smiling when she saw a familiar silouhette. She knew better than to walk up behind him and stayed where she was, whistling sharply between her teeth to catch his attention before she wandered over, smiling up at him.
brothers by all definitions (but blood) || steve & bucky
Steve swung by the Tower to pick up a couple of Asimov’s chew toys as well as drag Bucky with him to see the new house. He had been worried when he hadn’t heard from his best friend all that frequently for the past few weeks, but Bucky could take care of himself -- that much was obvious. So, Steve let him have his space because if anyone could sympathize with a cross-country road trip to cope with having to live in 2016 after only knowing the 1930s, it was him. When his best friend finally surfaced again, back in New York, he couldn’t help but feel relieved. He figured he was a little justified in that -- he couldn’t lose Bucky again, not when he just got him back. But he knew that he couldn’t mother hen him.
He went down to Bucky’s floor, greeting him and Bepa, spending a good two minutes on the floor with her and petting her before getting up. “It’s about a fifteen minute drive from here, twenty if I follow the speed limit,” Steve said. Contrary to popular belief, Steve did not drive “like a grandpa,” despite the fact that he was indeed a grandfather of sorts. He learned how to shake a tail, knew how to weave and navigate traffic, and he was certainly good at not following the speed limit. But he was trying to not break any laws -- he’d already been thrown in jail for being Captain America, he didn’t need to give the police any more fuel for the fire.
Steve asked Bucky about the trip during the ride, though he saved for looking at the photos for when he wasn’t driving. It was best that he kept his eyes on the road. Finally, he pulled into the driveway, smiling brightly. “Well, this is it. New house. Took us about a month and a half and a dozen showings before we decided on this one. Tony’s picky,” he said, well aware that he too was just as picky and was probably the one who vetoed most of the house they saw.
The last month had been completely blissful, what with his marriage to Tony and the following honeymoon. Steve couldn’t say that he got the full Italian experience as they stayed inside the hotel room for half the trip, but he definitely say that he got the full honeymoon experience. It was nice to take a break from the nonsense that came with being a superhero (or a vigilante as others had taken to calling him). But of course, they couldn’t stay away from responsibilities for too long. That didn’t mean that their little honeymoon phase had to end. He picked up his clothes from the edge of the bed and dropped a gentle peck to Tony’s forehead, who was still laying languidly on their bed, before getting dressed and heading down to Nat’s floor.
For the duration of his trip, he had asked Bucky to watch over Asimov for him. Having the pup while he was sick was a great comfort. And having a dog overall was good for human comfort. He was hoping that having Bucky be around a pup would help adjust to staying in New York and being in the Tower. And he knew that Nat was planning something along those lines as a present for Bucky. He was glad that his brother had other people looking out for him as well, especially people like Natasha.
The elevator opened up on Natasha’s floor and Steve walked up to the door, knocking and waiting for a response. He already had JARVIS give Bucky a five minute heads-up before he left. He was anxious to see his pup, but also his best friend to see how he was doing. They hadn’t had a lot of time spent together what with all of his de-seruming and his wedding preparations, but hopefully that would change now. And anyway, he cleared some time in his schedule to just hang out with Bucky now, if he was up to it.
Things We Lost || Tony & Bucky (Alternative Canon AU)
A seventeen-year-old Tony Stark sat slouched in the backseat of his parent’s town car, programming his latest robotics project with an old cell-phone that was half the size of his arm (he was planning to change that--technology in this era was too bulky, to obstructing--and he had bigger plans. Well, smaller bigger plans) and a small circuitboard he’d snuck into the ride by hiding it under his jacket. Howard had said no projects, said the gala they were attending was “the party of the year” and if he embarrassed him tonight, there’d be hell to pay. Smile, sit up straight, get ready. Well, they weren’t there yet, and shitty tech didn’t fix itself, so Tony ran a wire through his teeth and was only electrocuting himself a little when a figure landed on the hood of the car and Maria began to scream.
Later, they world would say they never saw him, they’d say Tony saw a ghost, but for 0.001 seconds, in the span of time it took to drop what he was holding and stare, slack-jawed out the window, he watched a man in all black rip something from the front of the car, and then it was over. The car was toppling. Maria’s screaming grew louder, louder, louder, until it was gone.
Tony never did hear Howard, but when he came to, blinking through the blood that had dripped into his eyes, he could see his father’s limp frame, head cradled against the steering wheel. Beside him, Maria’s body lay twisted in shards of glass, and Jarvis, Jarvis who had sat beside him the whole ride, who didn’t say a word when Tony pulled out his tools, who placed a finger to his lip and shook his head, Jarvis who was the only one in this forsaken family who ever smiled, lay perfectly still in the seat beside him, his eyes still open, though they no longer held any joy.
Tony gasped, coughing up mouthfuls of blood as he scrambled out of his seat, reached for Jarvis and placed two hands to his neck. There was no pulse. “No, no, no, no, Jarvis. No.” Tony looked between his still body and the two in the front seat. The car had toppled, everyone upside down and the glass covered everything, covered so much that Tony couldn’t see the car, the expensive leather his father had obsessed over for years. Now there were only red stained seats and glass--glass everywhere. The car burst into flames. Red and white turned to orange. “No, no, no,” Tony reached for Jarvis’ hand, tugging him, dragging his body through the broken window, but the flames were rising, and Tony knew the signs of approaching explosions; how many times had he caused them already, experiments gone wrong in his parents’ backyard? He rolled out of the car, landing with a thud on his already (probably) broken arm and scooted across the road just in time to watch the car become engulfed.
And there he was. The ghost. The shadow. Standing beyond the car, beyond the road; and for a moment, Tony thought he caught his eye, but with a mask like that, he just couldn’t be sure. “Hey!” he called, scrambling to his feet, hissing under his breath to mask the pain he couldn’t yet feel, too numb, heart racing too hard to know anything else. “Hey! Who are you?”
There was a small shift of weight from Clint, his knee pad scraping gently against the flat top roof of the building he was perched on, sharp eyes looking through the binoculars in his hand as he slid his gaze over pedestrians down below. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for, maybe just a clue in how these people walked, or if they looked over their shoulder one too many times. At this point anything could be a hint, and there was a bloodlust to get his hands on a HYDRA operative, if only to make them beg for mercy after he forced them to spill every ounce of information they had.
It was late, the sun beginning to sink below the towering buildings of the city. Still the streets remained alive, blaring horns, bright lights, and flashing signs. ‘The city that never sleeps’ certainly lived up to its title.
Clint was just about to move his position, perhaps head south into a quieter area when a glint caught his eye. Lifting the binoculars once more, the archer focused in, gritting his teeth when he saw -just for a moment- a flash of metal along an arm that was quickly covered up by a sleeve. A slight movement of the wrist brought his eyes on the face of the so called Winter Soldier...the HYDRA operative that had been responsible for most if not all of the damage done to SHIELD.
There was a flare of rage, Clint commanding his quiver to prep a particular arrow head, one with enough shock power to hopefully paralyze that arm long enough for Clint to launch an attack. He needed him alive, but if it ended in killing the other man, Clint figured it would be one less thing to worry about regardless.
Already he was moving, abandoning his post as he used the cover of darkness to close in on his target. Thankfully the streets along this area were fairly empty, the backroads offering some privacy as Clint rounded a corner and lifted his bow, taking aim at the man before whistling loudly to him.
“Picked the wrong night to go sightseeing asshole.” He grunted, letting the arrow fly before charging towards him.
Fine Line Between Hero and Villain || Steve & Bucky
Steve and Bucky violently get arrested together and Steve tries to calm Bucky down as he’s triggered by the events.
Steve had been waiting at this old Italian restaurant that he and Bucky used to go to before...well, before everything. He had been amazed to find out that it was still here, after all this time. It was not the same cook that they knew, but instead, their granddaughter and her husband. Steve had a quick Avengers' meeting that morning but he and Bucky had lunch plans. He wanted to show him that there were little reminders in this new world that they were living in, so he had texted Bucky the address earlier. "It's a hole in the wall place, Buck. But you can't miss it. There's a huge Italian flag outside," Steve replied with a slight grin as he looked out the window and looking for his friend. The amount of police officers that he had passed on the way there made him feel uneasy. He spent too much time walking around as if there hadn't been a warrant out for his arrest, but generally, the police were willing to turn a blind eye when it came to the Avengers, what with all the villains popping up lately. And now, they were just hanging around the area, as if they were waiting for him to do something slightly illegal. "Where are you at? I'll come find you," he suggested, not feeling quite right being separated from his friend at the moment.
Bucky: "Uhmm..." Bucky looked around, trying to get his bearings. He recognized a few things, a fountain and the name of a passing street, so he must have been in the right place. "You see where there's a bunch of cops having a pow-wow by the fountain? I'm in an alley near there." Bucky leaned against the wall to wait, probably looking like a downright thug. He wore a thin hooded jacket, despite the heat, to hide the shiny metal of his arm. A glove covered the fingers, the opposite arm's sleeve was pushed up to the elbow. Sure, he looked a little strange. But self preservation won out against aesthetics and comfort. "Might wanna hurry, Steve. I think I need an Avenger to not look like I'm gonna mug someone."
Steve: "I know where you are. I'm on my way," Steve replied, standing up and pulling on his baseball cap. He knew it was a flimsy disguise, but it worked before. He left the restaurant, avoiding the cops and looking in all the alleys for Bucky. Finally, he found him not too far off. "Just got a little mixed up there. Wait until I tweet about it," he joked, relaxing a bit now that he had Bucky by his side. The pit of nerves in his stomach didn't go away, however.
Bucky: "Tweet?" Last he checked, eagles didn't tweet. Still, with Steve in sight, most of the soldier's nerves calmed down. Most of them, at least. The stares from the police in the surrounding area were still unnerving him. Had he been a few (70) years younger and less panic and stress disorder-ridden, he would probably march right up to them and ask what they saw that they disliked. He was just like any normal New Yorker. He had rights. Granted he hadn't had the best track record when it came to the law and government, but that was a different time. A different life. He was here now and in a better mindset. Steve was his lifeline to those thoughts. Positivity radiated from the blond in waves, often mistaken for pure freedom. Not that that wasn't flowing through his veins either.
Steve: "Oh! I have got to show you Twitter. It's great," Steve said, patting Bucky's shoulder with a grin. Steve led Bucky back over to the restaurant and just before they entered the establishment, they were surrounded by the police, guns drawn. "Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes, we have warrants out for your arrest," the police chief announced. Steve looked around, seeing that there was no way out of this. And dammit, he didn't even have his shield. "We don't want any trouble here, fellas," Steve said authoritatively. "So let's just put down the guns and stay calm."
Bucky: With all this social media, Bucky felt like his head was about to explode. What was so interesting about being in tuned with every single thing your friends, family, or favorite celebrities did with their lives? There was no such thing as privacy anymore. Speaking of privacy, Bucky's anxieties over the men in blue shot through the roof, his fears realized. The chief's words sent terror through his heart. They knew who he was. If the police knew where he was and took him, there was no doubt that HYDRA would find him again. HYDRA would take him away from the Avengers. From Steve. From Natalia. Steve's words grounded him. Perhaps they would listen. On what charges were they even being arrested for anyway? But as soon as the officers failed to heed his suggestion, guns still pointed at the two supersoldiers, Bucky felt himself slipping. They were in danger. Steve didn't have his shield and Bucky only had three knives and two pistols on him. The force had clearly estimated correctly how many units it would take to bring them in. Bucky couldn't fight like this. So did that mean they should let themselves be taken? No, the Winter Soldier never rolled over in submission. All he had to do was wait for the opportune moment...
Steve: It took Steve a few months to warm up to social media, but since jumping in feet first into that world, he quite enjoyed himself. In a time where people put him on a pedestal, it was nice to show them that he was human, just like them. Honestly, he was just a kid from Brooklyn. He just happened to be in the right place at the right time with the right people looking out for him. Lady Luck wasn't shining so bright on him right now, not with all these officers with guns raised at him. He flashed back to the SHIELD Civil War, but this time around, he had Bucky by his side. He wouldn't be fighting against him. Small mercies, he supposed. His mind raced. They couldn't run. The moment they moved an inch to try to escape, bullets would be raining down on them. They couldn't fight off that many people off, especially when they came prepared. He didn't know why they were being arrested exactly, but he would bet that HYDRA had something to do with it. "We're not resisting," Steve spoke once more, hands raised. "Buck, we gotta go with them," he added softly.
Bucky: Ringing echoes through his head, vision tunneling. Cold, cobalt eyes shifted from officer to officer, analyzing every weakness that made itself known. Some had bad knees, favoring one over the other. A couple were sweating with nerves, knowing exactly what both of these men were capable of. However, only one of them was willing to take that step off the cliff. Because for the Winter Soldier, there was no such thing as fear. It was his eyes and his skills that caused fear in the hearts of normal men. That is, if they even believed in the ghost in the first place. It was the soldier's stance that changed first. From tense and stock-still next to Captain America, he was coiled and ready to spring. As soon as he chose to attack, more than a fourth of them would be dead before the first of them could pull their trigger.
Steve: "Bucky, did you hear me?" Steve asked, a little bit louder but not loud enough for the officers to pick up on what he was saying. "Hands where we can see them!" The chief snapped, guns still firmly raised and pointed at the pair. Steve raised an eyebrow as he looked at his hands, which were already up. "You too, Sergeant Barnes," the chief amended. Two officers slowly headed toward them with handcuffs, the kind of cuffs that were designed to hold supersoldiers. He didn't care if they arrested him -- he trusted his team to get him out -- but right now, he was more worried for his best friend. This was by no means an ideal situation to be in.
Bucky: The sight of the handcuffs set him off. Images of being restrained, pinned down, beaten... none of it pleasant and all of it terrifying. Bucky was gone the moment they threatened him with confinement. This was no longer about grudges or questioning authority. This was about survival. The second an officer entered the Winter Soldier's range, the seemingly one-sided fight began. Throat slashed, the dead weight of the man was used as a shield from the bullets sent by the others. His gun was used on them, taking out officers, one head shot at a time. When that pistol ran out of ammo, he switched to his first pistol. Red Room training took precedence; despite his lust for blood, he had to play it smart. Use distance and cover before going in for hand to hand- or knife to gun. By the time he was halfway through his magazine, a third of the officers were down. The chief was calling in backup as bullets shredded the extra fabric around the metal arm, the material glinting off the sun and blinding some of the assailants. Steve's voice was long gone, a far away murmur that blended into the white noise of the Winter Soldier and the constant shots of firearms. "Последнее пистолет. половина из целей остальные." Last pistol, half of the targets remaining. His voice was dead, flat, regardless of the sheer excitement in this alley. The last half would be simple, as long as he got rid of them and got them out before the reinforcements arrived.
Steve: The moment Bucky started defending himself (because that was what he was doing. He wasn't attacking, never attacking) was when all hell broke loose. "Bucky!" He yelled, pushing officers out of the way, both for their own protection and to get them out of his way from his friend. He knew that Bucky was fast, but he had yet to see just how fast he could wreak havoc. This was bad. These were police officers of the law. Even though they knew what they were to face when they put on their uniform, they didn't deserve this. (But then again, who knew just how many of them were HYDRA? No. He couldn't think like that.) He could hear the Russian he was speaking and he racked his brain for one of the basic words he'd learned from Natasha. Stop. Stop. Stop. "Стоп!" He yelled.
Bucky: Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-three. Twenty-four... Each body fell heavily on the ground, a thud deadened by the concrete below their feet. The soldier continued to kill, rampage seemingly endless. His pistol was tossed to the side, skittering across the heated cement to lay at Steve's foot, his friend pulling out both knives before darting in for close quarters slaughter. He'd only killed a few more before Steve's voice rang out, his entire body going rigid. What..? Then the pain of a bullet going through his leg sent him to a knee. What had he been doing? The answer to his question was in the blood covering his hands. "S-S-Steve?" Wide, cobalt eyes stared past the captain, childlike in his fear. He'd done this. The men all on the ground, dead. He'd killed them. The Winter Soldier had slipped again.
Steve: Without his shield and unwilling to use a body shield, Steve had multiple bullet wounds. Obviously, these officers were told to open fire if met with any resistance. They were painful and while he had supersoldier healing, it didn't make being shot any easier. He grabbed the sewage cover lid and tossed it at the last group of officers still standing, using enough force to knock them down. "Hey, Buck. Come on. It's okay. Just...just drop your weapons. I'll make sure no one else is going to hurt you," Steve said, kneeling down to be at his eye level. "You with me?" He asked, not breaking eye contact.
Bucky: Bucky was shaking, metal fist clenched at his side, human fingers tearing into his hair. The two knives lay discarded on the ground a few feet from him, having fallen with a clatter upon his realization of his actions. His leg was stinging, but it was his head that caused the tears to collect in the corners of his eyes. His brain felt like it was splitting in two, the blood on his hands caking there, in the fabric of his gloves, in his hair. Above all, Bucky was afraid to look his friend in the eye. He knew that, there, he would find the disappointment he felt in himself. He had had too much confidence in his self-control, and that self-confidence got people killed. People who, Bucky didn't know, may or may not have deserved their fates. Lying in a pool of your own blood, surrounded by the screams of your dying squadmates... it took Bucky back to the war. Perhaps that's what this insanity had become. Whatever monster that was pulling the strings of the police clearly wanted total domination. It was people like Steve and the Avengers that would make it a war. Bucky, on the other hand... well, he didn't even know what would happen to him now. Thinking ahead wouldn't do much good if he didn't make it out of this alley. Being cleared for the line of duty was a battle to be fought much later down the road. "S-Steve..." He watched the blond, waiting for some sort of clue as to what to do next.
Steve took a deep breath and pulled his friend close to him. "It's okay, Buck. I got you. Come on. We gotta go and get sorted out. We can't run away. It'll make things worse," he said. Steve would always be the stubborn kid from Brooklyn who didn't know how to give up from a fight, but this fight was one he knew he had compromise with. The government wanted to set an example by arresting him. Well, if they wanted to get an example for the United States, they were sure as hell going to get one. Probably not the one they'll be expecting, an idea already forming in his brain.
Bucky: Feeling himself glued to his best friend's side, he could only nod. This wasn't like the old days when it was the brunet that took charge, apologizing or running or fighting more. It had always been Steve getting dragged away from the fight. Truthfully, he felt helpless. But he knew Steve had the right idea, and the glint in his eye was a formulating plan that would lessen the amount of pain he had to go through. "Following your lead, Cap." He muttered, flashing back to the bar when Steve first formed the Howling Commandos. He had said he wouldn't follow Captain America, just the kid from Brooklyn who couldn't back down from a fight. After years, Bucky realized that there wasn't much difference between the two. Except perhaps a penchant for costumes and masks, but that was really about it.
Steve nodded and stood up, ignoring the pain of the bullets in his body and suppressing a wince. They let the officers take them away in the cuffs. He could already imagine the headlines: Captain America and The Winter Soldier apprehended after attacking law enforcement. But he also knew that there were a large amount of people who would fight for them. He knew that Stark Legal would work on getting them out of there. He knew that very soon, everything would be okay.
Bucky, Zima, The Winter Soldier, whatever you wanted to call him: the man might have one brain now, but for Tony, he was still a mix of ideas, someone--something--he couldn't decide whether to like or to hate, or to just fall somewhere in between. There was, on one hand, the man who had been Steve's best friend, and anyone who loved Steve was someone worth knowing in Tony's book (of course, he also had Peggy's stories to back what a good man Bucky used to be, and the history books agreed). But then there was the Winter Soldier, the ultimate instrument of HYRDA, the man who had murdered Tony's own parents in cold blood and caused so much pain and chaos.
Bucky might be a good man, a man worth saving--and maybe Zima was too--but it was the Winter Soldier Tony was most interested in, if only because it was the one part of the man's personality that Tony could most relate. How did you keep going when you knew you'd done more bad in the world than good? And for Bucky, there had been no choice, no option but to become a villain. In the end, he was innocent, and how the hell did any of that make sense?
Knowing how confused he must be, and not wanting the man to kill him or his A.I., Tony went down to the Avenger's floor of the tower himself rather than send JARVIS to relay the message. "I need to fix that arm," he told Bucky as he leaned in the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest. He nodded at the mangled piece of machinery that had overheated during the operation.
