CHAPTER ONE
S.H.I.E.L.D HEADQUARTERS: FRIDAY, 0800 HOURS
Footsteps were soft and rhythmic as they echoed through empty halls against polished floors. Two pairs of cautious feet clad in combat boots carried their bearers from a nighttime mission that lasted through the early hours of the morning, to a disciplinary meeting scheduled no more than ten minutes earlier. By Captain Rogers' memory, it was with two minutes until landing. However, when the meeting was haphazardly organized didn't matter. Not to Steve, not to the man at his side, and last of all, Nick Fury. The concerns of Captain America and the Winter Soldier were beginning to pile up.
"Do you know what we did wrong?"
Steve perked up just enough to be noticed at the sound of Bucky's voice, pondering it for a moment. "By Fury's standards? Everything."
"That wasn't my question, Steve." Bucky brought his (organic) hand up to rake it through his hair, soon rubbing his eyes once the brunette strands were free of tangles. "Tell me what we did wrong by your standards. We completed the mission successfully."
"Yeah, but we didn't follow orders." Steve was aware of their actions. They took a different route without prior approval, due to the mission's circumstances being different in action than on paper. It was, to be frank, the most recent installment of the Captain's deviations from original orders. "We did what we felt was necessary without seeking permission."
"Hm." The two fell quiet following Bucky's unspoken agreement, taking the elevator to the conference room they'd been directed to. Steve could feel the eyes of the agents on their backs when the doors were opened for them, and shut when they were surrounded by the silence that the room and the director had to offer.
"Sir?" Both stood at ease, though it was forced. If their uncertainty wasn't evident, nothing was.
"Morning, Captain. Sergeant Barnes," Fury acknowledged Bucky with a nod. It wasn't a pleasant greeting. They weren't sure what it was.
"Good morning. We're here for disciplinary action to be taken, sir." Steve kept his head up, though he was conscious of Bucky's gaze faltering out of his peripheral vision. Discipline had a different definition from the perspective of the Winter Soldier. Nick didn't mention it, though.
"Good, you know you can't listen. That should make this easy, now. Then again, y'all know how to make 'easy' the most difficult thing in the world. Tell me what the mission was, Barnes."
"The mission was to successfully apprehend the rogue Russian HYDRA ship that stole vibranium from a Wakandan port, sir." His voice didn't shake, and his eyes remained stoic when he kept them up. That was progress. He was doing better.
"And I gather that the mission was successful? Y'all are in one piece, Russians are in custody?" The director stood, leaning over the glass desk.
"Yes, sir." Steve clasped his hands behind his back, eyes slowly drifting to the ground.
"But you didn't carry out the orders as directed. You can't listen, can you, Captain? You're like a kindergartener."
"Director Fury, the situation didn't require for the orders issued to us to be carried out. We had to act on an alternate plan for the safety of ourselves and of the enemy." There was a briefly exchanged glance between Steve and Bucky, but no further words.
"The safety of the enemy isn't your concern."
"Sir, the thieves didn't appear to be a threat. They were clearly inexperienced. The circumstances they were working under weren't clear. For all we know, they were forced. We didn't use more force than was necessary," Bucky stated, sighing, though the air escaping his lungs was inaudible.
"Your mission was to apprehend the thieves with the intent to intimidate. You aren't working here to be a pacifist." Fury walked around to get closer to the two soldiers, his eye narrowing.
"Understood, sir." Steve met his gaze calmly, though his expression was solemn. "What disciplinary action are you taking?"
"This is very, very far from the first time you've done the exact opposite of what I told you, Captain. Sergeant Barnes, I'm certain that you're still trying to readjust to being on this side of the playing field. I've had you working with Rogers because y'all are the only ones who make any sense to one another. There's an elementary school in Brooklyn. In one of the kindergarten classes, the teacher is out for the rest of the year, and the assistant was fired. You two are going to be their replacements."
This time around, there was no hesitation in the astonished look passed between Steve and Bucky. June was only two months away, but neither one dared to ask why this was happening or how it was even made possible.
"Today's Friday. You start on Monday. You've got ten five-day weeks, except for the Friday before Memorial Day. Show up dressed like that," Fury said, gesturing to their tactical suits and body armor, "and I will kick both of your asses so hard that Wakanda won't have enough vibranium to replace y'all's limbs."
"…Is that all, sir?" Steve asked.
"Details will be emailed. Dismissed."
BROOKLYN, NEW YORK CITY: 1400 Hours
"Do I even own any dress pants at this point? Or khakis, at least?"
Steve shrugged, scrubbing his hair dry with a towel. He looked over Bucky's shoulder as the man sifted through his closet. Presently, Bucky's wardrobe consisted of very little that extended beyond 'casual'. T-shirts, sweats, cargo pants, and several jackets made up the large majority of his clothing. The black tactical suit and weaponry didn't really count, in either of their minds. If it wasn't civilian clothing, it wasn't really clothing at all. "I've got some stuff you can wear, probably. You'll just need to do some adjusting."
"Thanks. I guess that means…" Bucky began, though he trailed off.
"Means what?" No answer. "…Means what, Buck?"
"We have to go shopping." Bucky offered a devious raise of his eyebrows and a grin, looking to his companion.
"Suffer for our sins, you mean?" Steve replied. Shopping, regardless of what the sought out items were, was not an activity that Steve enjoyed. It drew unwanted attention to him, and allowed him no less than the most amount of time possible to be spent at a store. Just two weeks before, he was gone for two hours attempting to buy water and two bags of chips.
"Look, we just need to wear the right clothes and nobody's gonna know. Wear a Yankees hat and some sunglasses, nobody's gonna guess that it's you." Bucky stood from his position of ransacking his closet, massaging the back of his neck with his left hand. "And a generic hoodie."
"You say that like I haven't done it before." Steve walked out to his own bedroom, pulling four occupied hangers from his closet. Sharing clothes wasn't too strenuous, but he had the money on hand to keep it from being an ongoing routine. "Here, is this okay?" He gestured to a red and blue plaid flannel and khakis, eyes expecting an answer.
"I have a vibranium arm, you think I care?" Despite his reply, Bucky nodded, a faint smile crossing his face. "Thank you."
"Sure thing…you feel alright?" Steve received another nod, and no verbal affirmation. "That's good." Initially, when his friend offered such a simple answer to a loaded question, Steve didn't trust it. Following a (not so) subtle breakdown on Bucky's end about how Steve was worrying too much over him, and, in turn, placing more stress on Bucky, he took to accepting the brief affirmations as truth. "If I wasn't okay," Bucky had said, "you would know it."
"Your outfit looks like you're trying too hard."
"It does not," Steve bit back. He glanced at the khakis and gray Oxford, then to Bucky.
"It looks…preppy."
"What, should I wear my Army t-shirt underneath it?" Steve himself wasn't sure if it was a sarcastic question or not. He wasn't going to decide, he knew what answer was coming his way.
"That's a great idea. Where's the shirt that I have that says 'Back-to-Back World War Champions' on it?" Steve offered nothing more than a shrug. With his prosthetic hand, Bucky pulled the flannel from its wire hanger and felt over it. "How many of these shirts do you have?"
"Flannels or patriotic button-downs?" Steve watched the way the silver fingers grazed over the fabric. It was interesting to see that the arm, while a nearly indestructible weapon, was able to be used with extreme care.
"Patriotic flannels." Bucky sat on the edge of the bed, looking through the open blinds. The scene outside of the window was something of a comfort; taxis still wove through the area, and old tenement buildings lined the opposite side of the street. It was the remaining piece of New York that the super soldiers knew.
"Just that one," Steve answered, snapping Bucky back to his question.
"I like it."
"You can keep it. I haven't worn it in a few months." Steve pulled the clothes from their hangers, folding them and setting them on the end of his dresser. From a drawer, he pulled a gray shirt out, setting it on top of the button down he planned to wear. "How do you think Fury managed to get it approved that we work with kindergarteners?"
"Don't know. But, he is the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. He can probably pull more strings than he knows what to do with." Bucky set the mass of soft plaid aside, standing up. He folded his arms over his chest, blowing a wisp of hair from his face. "I don't think you're gonna have a very happy group of parents."
Steve nodded his agreement, an audible sigh slipping from his lungs. "It's going to be a nightmare any way we slice it. I'm more afraid of the kids than their parents, honestly."
"You think you're afraid of them? They'll be scared to death of me, Steve!"
"That's if they even know who you are, Bucky. I don't know that they're old enough to know about the Winter Soldier. Listen, it'll be fine. It's Fury's problem if backlash gets out of control. Right now, though, we either do this, or risk losing our positions."
Bucky nodded, looking at the floor. "Are you sure that this is the lesser of two evils, though?"
