Hey guys! This is my new Avengers story. These events take place a year after Civil War!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything Marvel related!
Wakanda, Present Day
"It's only been a year. Are you sure this is okay?" The assistant hurried after her king, clutching a clipboard to her chest tightly. Her long heels clicked a steady tempo down the hallway, her eyes wide. T'challa didn't answer, only came to a swift stop at the cryofreeze chamber. Steve was already waiting, leaning against the railing with his arms crossed over his chest. His bright blue eyes stared at the frozen face of his best friend, an unreadable expression passing over his face. T'challa suddenly felt like he was intruding on a very personal moment.
"Are you sure about this?" He asked, pulling Steve from his thoughts. The super soldier stood to his full height and nodded.
"I need his help." Was his only response. T'challa gave him a brief nod before glancing over at the doctor and gesturing with his head. The doctor pressed a button, causing the door of the unit to open smoothly.
"We have been thawing him since you called four days ago. It is only a matter of time now." He assured the super soldier, a soft smile curling up his lips. Steve hummed in response.
"Vitals are reading normal." The doctor called out. Steve didn't take his eyes off of Bucky, catching the almost imperceptible movement of his eyes moving behind his closed eyelids. He leaned back against the railing, staring at the strong face in front of him and wondering when their lives had become so entirely screwed up. Bucky looked the same age as he had when he'd fallen from the train on the surface, but Steve could see the deep sadness and regret in him. He missed a time when life had been easier, when the only thing he'd had to worry about was the next fist fight that Bucky was inevitably going to have to pull him from.
Bucky groaned, pulling him from his thoughts, and his eyes slid open slowly. Steve stepped forward into his friend's field of view, a soft smile on his face.
"Steve?" The soft Brooklyn accent, while hoarse and gruff, was undoubtedly that of his best friend. Steve relished in the familiar sound and reached forward to help Bucky out of the chamber. "What's going on? What year is it?" He asked, feeling like he was wearing lead weights. He leaned heavily against Steve and wiggled his toes inside his boots. Steve frowned deeply, causing Bucky's heart to beat quicker. Something was wrong. "Steve, what's wrong?" He demanded, doing his best to stand up straight despite the hand he still kept clasped on Steve's shoulder for support.
"I'm really sorry to do this, Buck." Steve apologized, dipping his head so that Bucky couldn't see his face. The dark haired man tried to suppress his panic. Something was seriously wrong with Steve. "I just...it's only been a year, but I need your help." He admitted, glancing up. "This is...it's bigger than me. I can't fight alone." He explained vaguely.
"Steve..." Bucky trailed off, squeezing his best friend's shoulder tightly. Steve looked up at the familiar gesture, the same gesture Bucky had done when Steve had gotten into his first fist fight and Bucky had ended up taking a swift kick to the abdomen for him. A gesture that said he didn't mind, that he was always going to be there for his best friend. He reveled in the comfort, a smile growing on his face. "Anyway...I'm starved."