Steve came to with a cold wet cloth moving soothingly over his face and with the eyes still closed wondered if this would finally be the waking up in his own time. Maybe he had been found with a heat stroke on the beach and was now in hospital. The very idea tasted acrid. Steve hated hospitals.
A low rumbling chuckle brought his attention back to whoever was tending to his wounds. Steve snapped his eyes open and immediately squeezed them shut again, as much from the searing pain when the cloth moved over the gash on his temple as from pure disbelief. Men that gorgeous couldn't possibly exist in real life. So, yeah, back to the dream. What an endless dream, Steve mused, cracking one eye open carefully. What the hell was in that bourbon to make him dream like that?
Squinting at the sight in front of him, Steve decided he didn't care. If he needed to drink a whole bottle of hard spirit to see a man like this he was swearing off the sobriety forever. The marvellous vision was tall and broad-shouldered. There had been an obvious attempt to haphazardly tie back long dark curls which didn't impede them from gently framing the most beautiful face Steve had ever seen. Smiling silvery-blue eyes drew him in and made him open the other eye to make sure he was seeing them right. He slid his gaze along the straight nose of the stranger down to his plump pale pink lips and felt the blood rushing through his body to all his… extremities.
The stranger smiled at Steve kindly and the rush of blood turned into torrential rainfall inside his veins.
"You are one tough bastard," the stranger offered, picking up Steve's right hand and starting on the caked blood on the knuckles with the wet cloth. Steve tried to keep manfully silent but had to suck air through his teeth sharply to keep himself from whimpering. The stranger chuckled again, and the rough dark sound moved across Steve's nerves like a blade wrapped in velvet. "That idiot you almost scalped with the broken bottle was from Rumlow's crew. We only partnered with them for this one job, the Winter alone wouldn't carry that much cargo. None of my own men would ever try to do something like that to a girl who doesn't want them to. No, sir, Nat's establishment is more than enough for them. It's all about discipline, you see. "
He sighed, moved to dip the cloth in a basin of water next to the bed. Steve wondered how exactly he got into this tiny room with empty walls, one narrow window with the shutters down and a huge and pretty comfortable bed. Did the handsome stranger carry him here in his arms?
"Wow, you sure can blush," the stranger laughed, "hope that moron didn't damage something permanently." He lifted a thick eyebrow inquiringly, "Like your ability to speak? Say something, pal. What's your name?"
Steve opened his mouth and croaked. Right, he had been thirsty for all eternity before he even got into a fight. Thankfully, the stranger got the idea pretty quickly. He pulled a small leather flask off his belt, unstopped it and lifted to Steve's lips. Making slow steady sips Steve took a chance to get a better look at the rest of the stranger. He was dressed in simple black linen breeches and white shirt with laces that were open almost all the way, providing an incredible view of elegantly curved clavicles and a muscular chest covered with sparse dark hair. Steve's eyes caught on one flat nipple almost visible in the folds of the cloth and he inhaled the water he was attempting to swallow.
"Don't hurt yourself even more," the man took the flask away quickly and helped Steve to sit up, his strong large hands propping him up on the bed easily, rubbing lightly across his heaving chest as if helping him to calm his breaths. Steve couldn't help but imagine the slender fingers sliding lower, onto his own flat belly and down, down… No, no, stop, this man was most probably straight as an arrow, what was he even thinking.
It took him another embarrassing moment to gather his wits enough to scoot back, away from the gentle hands. The stranger moved back to his chair as well, respectful of the distance. Steve took some calming breaths and eventually felt ready to try speaking again.
"It's Steve," he mumbled bashfully, "my name is Steve. I am… erm…" think think think, "kind of lost."
"Thought it was something like that," the stranger nodded, "I am James Barnes, the Winter's Captain, but my friends call me Bucky." Steve smiled widely at that and the stranger, no, Captain, no, Bucky looked as if he didn't expect himself to divulge that interesting piece of information about himself at all but it somehow slipped out. He shook his head, curling his lips self-deprecatingly, and stood up. "Rest for as long as you need, Steve, then come join us downstairs. Today it's just my crew down there, Rumlow and his idiots are back on their Hydra."
Bucky walked to the door, his long legs carrying him in wide easy strides. With his hand on the door handle he paused and looked back at Steve. "Oh and your clothes are all covered in blood – weird clothes by the way, not that I care – so I brought up some of Morita's spare ones, he seems to be about the same height as you. There's more water in that jug next to the basin too, if you feel like freshening up." Bucky winked and disappeared behind the door before Steve could stop spluttering.
Relatively clean and dressed in slightly baggy trousers and a shirt of undyed cotton, Steve spent several minutes in front of the closed door, nervously attempting to straighten his hair. Finally the wish to see Bucky again won over his insecurity and he pushed the door open resolutely.
Downstairs was a giant hall with heavy-set wooden tables and benches, full of men, drinking, talking and laughing. Scantily clad women were flitting around with trays, smiling generously. A breathtakingly beautiful red-head was tending the bar but Steve caught one extremely watchful steely glance from her and felt she had to be more than just a barmaid. Bucky was sitting at a table in the corner closer to the open doors where the air was sweeter. Navigating his way over to his table Steve thanked anyone above who was listening for his asthma not bothering him anymore, otherwise it would have definitely flared up in the hall where the air was more pure smoke than anything else and the very walls were darkened from it.
Bucky wasn't alone at his table but his companions looked at Steve without any open hostility, they seemed curious and friendly. A burly man with an exuberant ginger moustache and a ridiculous bowler hat even went as far as to stand up, slap him on the back and roar, "Well done, you! Hey, guys, that's the kid who gave good old Rollins a piece of his mind." The others cheered enthusiastically and raised their mugs. The bowler hat owner dragged another chair to the table for Steve, dropped him onto it and returned to his own seat. Bucky pushed a spare mug with ale into Steve's hands and looked at him askance, both brows raised, clearly inviting him to drink with them. The hangover that was biding its time in a tiny corner of Steve's head reared up happily. "Hair of the dog," Steve muttered and took a tiny sip. The ale was surprisingly tasty and not too strong.
"Natasha brews it herself," Bucky's voice sounded so close to Steve's ear that he almost felt the lips on his skin. Goosebumps flooded his upper arms and his hair made a valiant attempt to literally stand on end. He met Bucky's eyes, the Captain was looking at him but pointing at the red-head behind the bar. "We keep asking her to move the establishment to Tortuga but she is in love with the fucking Maracaybo."
"Well and the fact that the local governor is under her heel doesn't hurt," a refined gentleman with a pencil moustache added from Bucky's other side. Captain chuckled, "That too." He gestured at the left side of the table where the pencil-moustache, the ginger and another tall man with a wide sincere smile were sitting, "That's Monty, Dum-Dum and Gabe, my officers." His hand moved to the right side of the table, "And that's Morita, our medic, and Dernier, our gunner."
"It's not just cannons, mind, it's anything that goes 'boom'," Gabe smacked Dernier, who was raising his eyes to the sky and for all intents and purposes looked like a God's own angel, on the shoulder and grinned even wider. Morita snickered and immediately asked if he could check the gash on Steve's temple.
Steve felt incredibly warm and comfortable, sitting there and listening to the guys bickering on. Bucky kept murmuring funny and wicked comments directly into his ear and with the tipsiness spreading inadvertently through his very bones, no matter how slowly he sipped his ale, Steve felt absolutely, thoroughly happy. This was the best dream ever. He wished he would never wake up ever again.
"Hey fellas," the most charming bartender in the world brought them the next round herself. Steve suddenly worried if she would like him, as if that was some sort of final acceptance test. But she looked him in the eye and obviously found something that satisfied her enough to put one mug in front of him as well. "Drink up," she smiled, "a knight in shining armour like you needs to replenish his strength."
Steve watched her go dumbly while the guys chortled and sniggered. Bucky threw an arm over his shoulders easily, "That's just how Natasha is, but hey, she likes you!"
There was a strange forced note in Bucky's chuckle after that and Steve looked up at him with clear worry. The Captain only shook his head. "Don't mind me. Just thinking about this slight pickle we're in, see."
The guys groaned. Morita said quietly, "We still have time, Cap, we will think of something."
Bucky pressed his lips into a sombre line, "Yeah, we have time till Rumlow does something stupid."
A skinny teenager ran into the tavern at that and skidded to a halt, looking for someone desperately. He noticed Bucky and shouted, "Captain, it's Rumlow! He's at the town square with his men!"
Bucky dropped his face into his hands, "Jinxed it, didn't I?"
Steve watched with fascination as relaxed, slightly drunk men transformed into disciplined well-armed soldiers who got up readily and followed their Captain outside. And even though Bucky whispered at him to stay with Natasha, Steve was not going to stay behind when something serious was about to happen. It was his dream, after all. He could do as he damn well pleased.
The fact that Natasha followed him and eventually directed him to the town square herself just proved Steve right. She also tugged him up onto the steps of the church with her; if not for that Steve might have been lost in the sea of men with no clear view of what was happening. Waves of testosterone were clashing in the air. There were a couple of hundred men on both sides with Bucky and Rumlow with their respective officers in the middle of the square, standing toe to toe.
Steve couldn't help but enjoy the view. Rough and bristling Rumlow, with the face that looked as if it was cut from stone but almost foaming at the mouth with anger was a perfect counterpoint for deadly calm, perfectly composed Bucky. At some point when Steve wasn't looking Captain Barnes threw an elegant waistcoat over his shirt and buttoned it all the way up, essentially wrapping his broad chest in expensive thick black fabric, while his slim hips were hugged by a leather belt with a sinister-looking rapier hanging from it. He looked bored. Steve expected him to start polishing his nails at any moment now.
"You led us into a trap," Rumlow shouted, "you made us wait till your friend the governor was gathering the ransom! We could have gutted the town and be long gone with the spoils!"
"Do I have to remind you," Bucky countered lazily, "that it was you who ran your ship, the Shield, aground on the shoal in the middle of the lake? You wouldn't take any help with the navigation, no, you're the smartest of them all. Results? We spent three days getting your men and gear off the ship in canoes. We would have had plenty of time to leave the lake before the Spanish ships arrived and closed off the bottle-neck if we didn't have to save your stupid asses."
Rumlow tried to growl but it sounded more like a wheeze. His crew looked suddenly as if they weren't really with him, rather on an unrelated walk to take the fresh air. He wouldn't give up so quickly though, "You know those Spaniards are here primarily because of you. Admiral Pierce hates your guts ever since you killed his younger brother."
Steve gasped quietly. Natasha bent her neck gracefully to speak to him in a low whisper without having to take her eyes off the scene in front of them, "Bucky was sold into slavery to Pierce's brother. He escaped and took his officers, who used to be his fellow slaves, with him. Months later they captured Pierce Junior's ship but then were surrounded by the Spaniards. Bucky told Dernier to tie Pierce's brother to a cannon and used that as leverage to make their way out of the trap. He fully intended to let the man go, as he had promised, later but he couldn't."
Natasha turned suddenly to look at Steve, grim satisfaction in her eyes, "Pierce Junior literally died of fear hanging on the ropes off a cannon. If you ever see Bucky's scars you will understand how I can't quite manage to be sad about it." Steve gulped, not sure what to say, and she turned away from him again.
Bucky nodded at Rumlow, "Admiral Pierce agreed to let out to sea anyone who surrenders their part of the bounty we have taken here. If you are so scared you are welcome to take nothing but your sorry ass and get the hell out. We will provide a sloop for you and anyone else who might wish to join you. "
Rumlow might have been a coward but his greed was even stronger than his fear. He looked at his officers, saw they were thinking along the same lines and snarled, "Fine, we are staying. But you better come up with a good plan and soon, you know there are already three ships outside the bay, and two more are on their way. If they arrive there is definitely no way for us to fight through."
Bucky smiled coldly, "How fortunate for us to indeed have a plan. I will work out the tasks for each crew and we shall reconvene in the 'Red Room' tavern at the sunset to discuss."
Steve looked at the sky and realized it was about noon. He must have been unconscious almost the whole night then, since when he came down to the tavern it was light outside already. He never even noticed. But that was natural in dreams, not to notice the passage of time, right?
Natasha led Steve back to the tavern in time for them to see Bucky and his officers around a huge table in what Natasha claimed to be her office but looked like just another tiny room upstairs. The door was open and they lingered at the threshold.
"It is a desperate plan," Monty shook his head slowly, looking at the map on the table where between two long narrow islands lay the only passage out to sea from the bottle-neck of the lake. A huge fort on the eastern part of one of the islands was guarding the only part of the passage that was deep enough for ships. It had been abandoned when they entered the lake. Only the Spanish ships were standing in the way, anchored across the passage.
"Indeed it is," Bucky said, "but I've done things even more desperate." He looked grim but determined. Steve wanted to hug him and never let go. He watched the man dreamily and listened to his plan with barely half a mind. Then something jolted him to full attention. This was the wrong plan.
Bucky wanted to build an improvised fire-ship out of the larger sloop of the two they had. It would be stripped down to its bare shell and packed with explosives, then a small crew of reckless daredevils with Dernier at the helm would lead it to the passage. The Winter, Bucky's flagship, and the Hydra will follow, and the smaller sloop with most of the bounty will go last. They will go at dawn, Dernier and his men will light up the fire-ship and jump off it into the water where a longboat from the Winter will pick them up. The explosions and fire will take at least one ship and then it will be a more or less equal fight, two on two. Or it would be if not for the fact that the Spanish ships had more men and more cannons than the Winter and the Hydra put together. And also a tiny little fact that the fort wasn't abandoned anymore.
"No, God, please, no!" Steve heard himself cry out. There was a moment of unbearable embarrassment when everyone looked at him with similar expressions of what-the-hell-is-the-kid-doing-here and Bucky was already opening his mouth to – probably – definitely – tell him off for intruding but he still kept going, "please, I know, you barely know me, you don't have to trust me, but I just know this plan isn't going to work." Now Bucky looked betrayed and oh boy, did it hurt. Still he barrelled on, "Just let me explain, please, literally five minutes, I will explain, there is a better plan, I swear."
Bucky's face was frozen over, his officers looked exasperated and Steve felt like he was drowning, they wouldn't listen, they would go and get a lot of their crewmates killed and the ships damaged, and then later Bucky would have a better idea himself but so many people would have died already, and if only they would let him tell them what he had read in his favourite book time and time again, year after year, it would be so easy to avoid all this mess.
A light hand landed on his shoulder, red curls swayed smoothly. "James," she said, "give Steve a chance to explain." The layer of ice on Bucky's face seemed to only deepen at that and Steve sank his head into his shoulders in despair. Then something cracked wide open in Bucky's eyes and he inclined his head. "I am listening."
