Steve,
I have another late shift, so I'll probably be home at 4am. Sorry if I wake you.
- B
/
Bucky,
Don't worry about it. If you get a chance, get more milk?
- Steve
/
Bucky liked to think he was a pretty well adjusted superhero, especially after years of being, well, not that, to say the least. It was what he was good at, and he was doing something in the world, even if that meant lurking on rooftops and listening to the police scanners for most of the night, which was what he was doing now.
"…And there's another 10-51 going on down at Flatbush. I'll pick 'em up. Over."
Bucky rolled his eyes. That was the fifteenth drunk tonight. There was literally nothing going on, which was probably a good thing for the city, but terrible for him. In the wake of the giant reptile attacks, the city was pretty much a wasteland of criminal activity. Though very little seemed to faze the average New Yorker, giant reptiles had certainly put a damper on things. The clean up was still going on in most areas, though thankfully the worst of it had been cleared out.
Bucky had tried to help out a little, but ultimately it wasn't like he could do much. He wasn't like Captain America, who often could be seen helping construction workers wade through the worst of it, or even someone like Iron Man who threw millions back into reconstruction (though he had thrown down fifty bucks he was going to spend on a new coat to a donation drive). He was just Bucky, and there wasn't much he could offer. He didn't know anything about construction work, or had freaky super strength.
"You really think there's anything to do tonight?" a familiar voice called. Bucky smiled a little.
"Whatever, Nat. Justice never sleeps," he replied.
"You're pathetic," Natasha Romanov, alias Black Widow, said. "There's nothing out here tonight. Go and sleep."
"And how would you know?"
"SHEILD knows," she replied cryptically.
"I'm still not being a spy," he replied.
"It'd be better for you. I get health insurance."
"Still not going to. I work on my own terms."
"So I do," Natasha replied. This was an old conversation, one they'd had at least once a month since Bucky had been deemed human enough to go back out in the world. Natasha had been the one to bring him in (and she'd gotten a few bullets for her trouble, which she never let him forget. But then again, he was) and she'd stuck around ever since. Bucky liked to think it sort of made them friends.
S.H.I.E.L.D, or the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division, had been trying to recruit Bucky for years now. They'd first found him in Russia, about to carry out another assassination on some world leader at the ripe old age of twenty-one. He'd been something else then – nothing more than a hollow machine and treated as such. He was pretty sure none of his 'handlers' ever thought he was human.
Being an assassin wasn't exactly a career he'd picked by choice. Originally, he was just a solider, just another young bright-eyed eighteen-year-old with delusions about military glory. He'd only just completed his training when he'd been sent out to the Middle East for his first tour when he'd been hit with an IED that'd taken his left arm with it. But instead of that being the end of the line it should've been, a group he'd later come to know as Hydra (some terrorist faction with roots in Nazi Germany and World War II) had found him and given him the metal arm and god knows what else to turn him into the most efficient killing machine of the century.
He'd been with them for three years, though they were long, bloody and fucked him up beyond words. Bucky didn't exactly remember much of it, on account of whatever fucked up things they'd done to his brain, but he'd seen enough reports to know it was certainly not sunshine and roses. Nobody knew exactly how many people he'd killed, though there were at least ten high-profile killings he'd been attributed to. This was mostly due to the fact that nobody in the intelligence community believed he existed. To them, he was just a ghost story, until of course the Black Widow herself had caught him in the act and delivered him to S.H.I.E.L.D.
It'd been its own kind of hell to become even anything like human again, but he'd done it with the help of a hospital's worth of doctors (thankfully on S.H.I.E.L.D's dime. Bucky didn't even think all the health insurance in the world could cover the therapy he'd needed). Now, he was pretty much human again, trying to atone for his mistakes.
Sure, S.H.I.E.L.D had done their best to try and sell him the life of a government-sanctioned assassin, but there was no way in hell Bucky was going back to that. However, he'd still felt compelled to do something. No matter what his therapists said, he couldn't just sit down and be complacent in a civilian life. Even back before all this shit went down, he'd known that hadn't been for him.
In the end, the decision had been thanks to Captain America. One day back in his Recovery Years, Bucky had seen the hero on the news and after a few days of obsessive research, he'd decided to take the same path. After all, with his metal arm and whatever the fuck else Hydra had done to him, he was more than enough of a superhero already.
Of course, this only served to make S.H.I.E.L.D more attentive, with Natasha showing up every now and then to throw him the pitch. She was a decent enough person, and perhaps the only person in the world that could even relate to Bucky's experiences, being an ex-assassin herself. Though her story was a lot longer than Bucky's.
Unlike him, Natasha Romanov (real name unknown) had been raised to be the perfect killer by some kind of fucked up Russian group. For years, she'd killed people without so much as a thought to what she was doing. But then one day a S.H.I.E.L.D agent had found her and made the choice to bring her in instead of killing her like they should've. Bucky still remembered the first time she told him the story, back when he was still barely human and prone to violent outburst. That was when they'd started to become friends (or at least he liked to think so), bonding over the fact they'd done a lot of fucked up shit to people while under the influence of someone else.
"You ever thought about recruiting Captain America?" Bucky asked.
"He's on a list," Natasha replied. "You in if he is? Because that could be arranged."
"No," Bucky replied. "He seems like the type you'd want. All patriotic and shit."
"He's a good solider, yes, but you're a spy."
"Assassin, and that wasn't me."
"It was, James. Just accept it,"
"Well, it's not anymore," he snapped.
Natasha just shrugged. "Suit yourself. Same time next week?"
Bucky snorted. "Whatever. Like I have a choice."
"I do enjoy our chats, you know," Natasha said in lieu of a goodbye. Without saying another word, she turned around and vanished into the night.
Bucky checked around, making sure he was alone again and sat down to listen to the police scanner and hoped there was something more exciting than yet another drunk roaming around in the city.
/
Steve was still awake when Bucky got home, though not exactly of his own violation. A neighbour's cat had begun yowling at some time after one and he hadn't be able to get back to sleep, so he'd turned on his police scanner for a while (but turned it off after the eighth drunk of the night) and tried to finish off the latest of his graphic design projects. He'd been kind of stuck lately, and with the reptile attacks, he hadn't exactly had much time to sit down and think about it. Not much progress had been made, though he'd at least picked out a few colour schemes and sent them off for the client to decide on.
"You're still awake," Bucky said, surprised. "I thought this was your night off."
"Cats woke me up," Steve replied. "Couldn't get back to sleep."
"Rude," Bucky said and flopped down on the couch. "I'm so fucking tired."
"Then go to bed," Steve replied.
"Can't. Too wired," he said and then suddenly sat up. "Do you want pancakes?"
"What?"
"Pancakes. I want pancakes," he replied. "You in?"
"Sure, if you're making them. Do we have milk?"
"I bought some yesterday after work. I saw your note." Bucky replied and jumped up to investigate. Steve was never short of surprised of Bucky's apparent ability to be able to leap into action even after his night shifts. Steve was really only able to manage because of his super-solider serum, making it easier to go with almost no sleep. Otherwise, he'd probably have been dead several times over.
Soon enough, the apartment was filled with the scent of pancakes. Steve's stomach growled, reminding him of how long it'd been since he'd properly eaten. Though he could go a surprising amount of time without eating, his diet was general pretty large thanks to his metabolism. It pretty much took a mountain of food to keep him fed (though with the state of Steve's finances, it was pretty hard to do so, but he managed).
"God, I can't believe I haven't made these for you before," Bucky said when the pancakes were done. "I used to make them all the time in my last house. Stopped my landlord from being too pissed about by job hours."
"I've never had that problem, or apology pancakes."
"You should try it sometime. They work wonders," Bucky replied.
Unsurprisingly, the pancakes were amazing. It figured that was the moment Steve's superhero phone rang.
"Shit," Steve swore. "I need to take this."
"Go ahead," Bucky said and Steve walked into his room to take the call, annoyed he'd have to give up some of the best pancakes he'd ever eaten for this. Calls like this were never just casual.
"Atlantic Avenue. Crossbones is there," was how Sam greeted him on the phone.
"I thought we put him away?"
"Apparently prisons can't hold this dude," Sam replied. Sam Wilson, though known to the general public as The Falcon, was probably the only person who really knew Steve both as a superhero and a person. They'd been friends for a while now, though Sam hadn't known him before he was Captain America. They'd met while Steve was on one of his Military tours and Sam was one of the Air Force guys that had been shuttled into the show for "morale". From there, Sam had only really gotten involved in the whole superhero thing because of Steve, though that was a sort of accident. Steve had been trying to fight off yet another villain and needed backup, and Sam Wilson had been more than qualified, thanks to his rather unique set of wings that once a part of a top-secret military pararescue team, now hidden somewhere in Sam's apartment (it was a long story, and the government really only tolerated it because as the Falcon, Sam was a real hero).
"Well, then, I'll meet you there."
"I'll—shit, yeah, I'll hold him off until you get here."
"Good luck," Steve said and hung up the phone. He paused for a moment, trying to work out how he was going to be able to sneak out of the apartment while Bucky was right there. The last time this had happened, Bucky hadn't been home so he hadn't had to deal with it.
Now, he was a little stuck. Steve considered his options before suiting up quickly and threw a coat and snow pants over his Captain America suit. It was late march, but it was still cold enough to warrant a few extra layers (though probably not as excessive as this, but it wasn't like he could exactly fit a regular pair of jeans over the suit). Hopefully Bucky wouldn't comment on it.
Taking a deep breath, Steve walked back out. "Sorry, I need to go back into work. Someone hasn't shown up for their shift and I need to fill in."
"Security work sucks," Bucky commented, not looking up from his pancakes, and it took Steve a moment to remember that the security thing was cover for his 'Night' work.
"It really does. I'll be back later," Steve replied. "Not sure when."
Bucky nodded absently. "Sure. Bye, Steve."
"Bye," Steve replied and hurried out the door.
/
Once Steve had left (in snow pants? What the hell was he thinking?), Bucky was bored again. Making the pancakes had been a nice distraction, but now he had literally nothing to do. Not for the first time, he contemplated getting a "real" job, but dismissed the idea pretty quickly. He had enough Army pensions and compensation for now, and it wasn't like regular employers could exactly deal with the whole superhero thing. That was pretty much his entire life, and he wondered how other heroes could do it. He'd met a few that apparently had day jobs (not everyone could be as lucky as him, or as rich as someone like Tony Stark), though they never said where or what.
With nothing else to do, he turned on the TV, flipping channels until he settled on a news station with some kind of breaking news.
"… Heroes Captain America and The Falcon have been sighted fighting against a masked figure. Early reports from the scene claim this Villain to be Crossbones, though he was put away earlier this year. We bring you live to the scene," the reporter said.
Bucky felt his blood run cold. He didn't remember having any direct dealings with Crossbones, though he was sure the man was a Hydra agent. There was something in him that always felt deeply uncomfortably anytime the name was mentioned.
He leaned closer to the TV, scanning the footage on screen. Momentarily, he wondered if he should leap into action and help, but Crossbones was just one man, and Captain America had Falcon to back him up. Besides, there was a certain level of etiquette to these things – you didn't just rush in and fight another superhero's villain, especially if they had things under control. It was rude.
On screen, he saw shaky camera footage of Crossbones shooting at Cap, who used his shield to block the bullets. Falcon was nearby, swooping crossbones on occasion and distracting him. The sound quality in the footage was terrible, marred by the sound of gunfire and civilians screaming.
Bucky was on the edge of his seat as the battle played out. It was hard to see much of it, but the cameraperson, whoever they were, was doing a valiant job of trying to cover the scene. The in-studio reporter tried to narrate what was going on, but the battle was moving too fast for them to keep up with so it was mostly the reporter gasping and crying out in shock when something nearly hit the camera (only missing it because Falcon managed to swoop in at the last second and grab the offending projectile right out of the sky).
It was a tense fight and Bucky didn't now how long he sat there watching it, occasionally flicking through different channels to see if there was better coverage. But eventually Crossbones went down and Bucky felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
/
Steve went back to Sam's place once the fight was all over. It was strange, not being able to go directly home after a fight, but he'd do anything he could to throw off any hints of suspicion. The less Bucky suspected, the better.
"Man, I can't believe Crossbones was out there," Sam commented once the two of them were changed and relaxing on the couch, watching the news playback of the fight. "You'd think they'd know to lock him up better than that."
"I don't get it either," Steve replied and collapsed on Sam's couch. He might not be that physically exhausted after the fight, but mentally he needed to just relax.
"Do you think we should look into it?" Sam asked.
"I don't know," Steve said. "He'll be locked up again, though hopefully this time it won't be so easy to bust him."
"We could ask Stark."
Steve groaned. "As useful as Stark could be, I'm not letting him know who I am. He'll be insufferable."
"Point, but we don't have to tell him."
"He'll want to know. He always does, every time I see him. As if the rest of us don't need a secret identity," Steve complained. Sure, Stark had his good moments, but his constant, though harmless, pestering had gotten on Steve's nerves, especially in recent times. At first he'd been a little flattered Stark had paid him any attention at all, but then it had gotten boring fast after the first few interactions.
"I feel like there should be someone else we should call about this," Sam commented. "Surely there's some sort of procedure."
"I don't know. The SSR were the only people I knew who dealt with anything like this, but they're all gone now," Steve replied. "Besides, I don't exactly trust the government."
Sam laughed. "Imagine that. Captain America distrusting the US Government."
"Like you trust them either," Steve said pointedly.
"You got me there," Sam replied. "Now, you should get back home soon so your roommate doesn't think you're dead."
"Oh, yeah," Steve said and glanced at the clock. How was it already midday? He shook his head. "Thanks, Sam."
"No worries," Sam replied. "Always happy to help. I'll see you around."
Steve walked out of Sam's place and left for home, wondering if Bucky would say anything about the whole Captain America vs. Crossbones fight. It had managed to block up a fair portion of Brooklyn, and had caused major delays on various roads. But that wasn't a big deal for most New Yorkers. They'd learned how to deal with the chaos of superheroes and villains long ago, so this was really only a minor inconvenience. They even had apps these days that helped tell people which routes to avoid if there was a fight in progress.
Bucky seemed pretty relieved to see Steve back at home. "Did you get caught in the traffic?" he asked when Steve walked in.
"Yeah," Steve lied.
"It's kind of scary how often this stuff happens now, isn't it?" Bucky commented. "I mean, was like, completely out of nowhere."
Steve tried to hide his surprise. "Yeah, it's been happening more lately."
"You worried?" Bucky asked.
"It's New York," Steve replied with a shrug. Besides, there was the fact he was a literal superhero, so he figured he could deal with anything.
"I'd be worried," Bucky said.
"You're not?"
"No, I mean, yeah. A little," Buck replied, sounding a little weird. Steve gave him a look, but said nothing.
"Well, I think it's all going to be fine," Steve said. He believed it (well, mostly. He was all too aware of how easy everything could just suddenly go to shit).
"Hey, wanna watch Master Chef?" Bucky asked suddenly. "It's on now."
"Sure," he replied and Bucky switched on the television.
Steve wanted to comment on his roommate's rapid change in subject, but he figured Bucky probably had his reasons. They were close enough, but it had really only been a few weeks since he'd moved in, so Steve figured they weren't really up to that level of closeness. Steve hoped they'd get closer, even if he knew he probably couldn't tell Bucky everything about his life. There was a lot that was either classified, or better kept secret for safety reasons. Bucky wasn't a superhero and there were things only other heroes could understand. It was part of why he liked Sam so much – that shared life experience was certainly a great bonding tool.
Unwittingly, Steve thought about the Winter Solider again. He'd tried to look the guy up, to see what kind of hero work he'd done before, but there was very little to find. As far as he could tell, the Winter Solider was a ghost. Sure, there were the odd reports of a man with a metal arm fighting off muggers and drug dealers, but it was all very scant and didn't go that far back.
Speculation was rife when it came to the Winter Soldier's origins. People thought he must've been some kind of spy or assassin (or even a flat-out villain at one point), but Steve wasn't sure how much stock he should put into any of that. There'd been more than enough rumours about Captain America's origins, as well as various other superheroes that Steve knew weren't true.
Also, Steve wasn't sure how polite it was to dig too deep into a hero's background. Superheroes valued privacy above all else, and Steve didn't want to be one of those kinds of people (there were more than enough people in the world who foolishly believed all superheroes should unmask and be open about who they "really" were). Besides, the Winter Solider had already proved himself when they'd fought the reptiles and unless anything openly shady came up, Steve was fine with the guy. Not everyone was their past, no matter what some people said. Besides, Steve liked to see the best in people.
Steve wondered if they could be friends, but he wasn't sure how to go about it, or even if the Soldier would want a friend in Steve. After all, how did you talk to a guy you'd really only met once and didn't know much else about other than the fact he had a metal arm and a killer shot? Not to mention the fact that unless there was some serious trust happening, they wouldn't even really see each other outside of actual fights, which left little room for socialisation. He shook off the thought. It was a terrible idea to try and befriend someone like that. There was no way it could end well, superhero or not.
A/N: A whole new chapter? So soon? I've surprised myself too. I'm just really excited about this whole AU and clearly I've suddenly found my productive streak. Anyway, there's gonna be a whole lot more of the other Avengers in this fic. I've got a plan for this, though I'm not sure how long it'll translate into being. Maybe 15/20 chapters? I'm not entirely sure just yet but I'll get back to you.
find me on tumblr as bluesargently if you're into that kind of thing.
