[Running With Wolves]
Despite Steve's promise of a safe place to stay, he was having trouble coming up with said place for them to lay low. He knew that going back to the States wasn't possible and most of Europe was out of the question.
They needed to come up with a place soon; the jet was going to run out of fuel sooner rather than later.
Steve could feel Sam's eyes on him, but the gaze wasn't accusing; Sam just wanted to know what their next move was. He felt a pang of regret for getting Sam mixed up in this mess, but he knew that Sam wouldn't have it any other way and for that he was grateful. It was a comfort to know that someone unfailingly had his back.
Steve looked up and over to his friend, meeting Sam's brown eyes.
"So?" Sam asked. "What's the plan?"
Steve heaved a sigh. "I don't know. It seems like anywhere we turn is going to lead them right to us."
"We're gonna need to land this bird somewhere, and soon," Sam said. "Not to rush you or anything." He cracked a smile.
Steve halfheartedly returned the expression. "I know. I'm working on it."
"I think I know where we can go."
Both Sam and Steve startled at the sound of Bucky's voice at their elbows. They spun in their seats to see Bucky standing behind them, hunching a little so that his head wouldn't graze the ceiling.
"Where?" Steve asked cautiously.
"There's this small town in Germany—,"
"Nah, man," Sam said, cutting him off. "Germany is a no go. The CIA have a base in Berlin. The place will be crawling with agents, all looking for us."
Bucky trained his hard blue eyes on Sam.
Sam swallowed a little at the coldness that glimmered in them, but he didn't drop his gaze.
"Hey," Steve said, cutting into their impromptu staring contest. "Sam's right. Germany might not be a good place for us to go." None of them mentioned the events that had transpired last time they were there.
Bucky broke eye contact with Sam, turning to Steve. "I know that. There's a small town, nowhere near Berlin or any big city," he paused and his voice dropped. "It's a safe place." He frowned a little as he finished his sentence. His mouth worked, as if the words hadn't been his own.
Steve reached a hand out, touching Bucky's remaining arm as the silence stretched.
Bucky flinched at the contact, but seemed to come back to himself. He cleared his throat. "It's small, out of the way, they wouldn't think to look for us there."
Sam half raised his hand, drawing the other two's attention to him. "Um, can we get back to how you know it's a safe place?" He didn't mention that what he really wanted to know was why Bucky had reacted the way he had, but both Steve and Bucky knew that's what he meant.
Bucky took a step forward, somehow making the movement look threatening in the enclosed space. He leaned his upper body towards the other man, glaring into Sam's face. It looked like he was about to say something, but Steve beat him to it.
"Whoa, easy," Steve warned, pulling on Bucky's arm. He eased Bucky back, out of Sam's space. "If Bucky thinks it's a good place to go, then I say we go. I trust Bucky's judgment and it's not like we have any other ideas."
Sam shot Steve a look; it wasn't hard to read Sam's feelings on Bucky's judgement.
"Sam," Steve said, holding the other man's gaze. "It's worth a shot."
Sam shook his head, turning his back on Bucky and leaning into his seat. He didn't say anything, but Steve knew that this meant he had won and that Sam wouldn't say a word about it again.
"Good," Steve said, eyeing the controls of the jet. "Let's set the coordinates and get a move on." He reached for the controls.
"I've got it," Sam said, lightly slapping away Steve's hands and taking control of the jet again.
Steve waited a beat as Sam shifted their course, but when Sam resolutely ignored both of them, he got to his feet, motioning for Bucky to follow him.
Bucky did so without complaint, silently shadowing his friend to the back of the jet.
Steve sat heavily on the bench that he had only vacated a short while earlier. He gestured for Bucky to sit next to him again.
Bucky hesitantly did so, eyes lighting up suspiciously. He ran his hand through his hair, pulling the long strands back and out of his face.
Steve tracked the movement, feeling a familiar ache in his chest as he remembered Bucky doing that exact same motion, only his hair had been short then and his eyes weren't full of pain and regret.
"What?" Bucky finally asked, dropping his hand to his lap. His hair fell back around his face, the previous motion of pulling the hair back rendered useless.
"Nothing," Steve said, clearing his throat. He didn't want to remind Bucky of all that he had lost by constantly bringing up the past. The good memories were okay, the bad memories were necessary, but the memories of the little things, of who Bucky had been when no one was watching—those were off limits. For now, anyway.
Bucky didn't believe him, but he also didn't call Steve out on it. Instead, he waited for Steve to make the first move.
Steve got to his feet, crossing to the opposite side of the jet. He crouched down, hands grasping the handle of the black case that he had wedged down there when they had boarded the jet.
He pulled it out and retreated back to Bucky's side.
Bucky eyed the case on Steve's lap with distrust. He didn't ask what it was, knowing that Steve would tell him in his own time.
Steve's fingers curled over the edge of the case, suddenly deciding to address another concern before moving onto what was inside the case.
"Why do you have such a problem with Sam?" Steve said, the question abrupt.
Bucky's eyes flickered up from the case to Steve's face. He frowned at the suddenness of the topic, but ignored the case for the moment.
"Because he has a problem with me."
Steve gave a half shrug; he should have expected that. "You know you can't threaten everyone who has a problem with you." His mouth quirked slightly.
Bucky's teeth flashed into a quick smile. "Yeah, because then I'd be threatening everyone."
"Not me," Steve said.
"You'd be the only one."
"You can trust Sam," Steve said, the conversation turning serious again. "I trust him with my life."
Bucky nodded. "I know."
"Then why can't you?"
Bucky frowned, his eyebrows pulling low over his eyes. "Because. Trust isn't something that was programmed—it doesn't come easy. Not anymore."
Steve swallowed. There it was. The damned programming that Hydra had done to his friend was coming back to haunt them again and again. Trust wasn't something that the Bucky from Steve's past had been good at either, but he had been more willing and open to it than this new Bucky. Steve knew that it wasn't Bucky's fault, but it hurt to be reminded (again) of everything that was gone, erased, from Bucky's life.
"I'm sorry," Bucky offered when Steve didn't say anything.
Steve immediately straightened, frowning. "Don't say that. It isn't your fault."
Bucky snorted, causing Steve's frown to deepen. At the questioning look from Steve Bucky said, "You keep telling me that as if I don't know, but what am I supposed to say? Nothing? I know I had no control over what they did to me, I know that, but it doesn't change the reality of what happened. What else can I do but apologize? It's some semblance of control that I can show over the past," he paused. "It's all I've got, Steve."
Steve gave a slow nod; he understood, it was just hard for him to not jump to his friend's defense, to make him understand that everything that had happened was out of Bucky's control. But that was just the problem: Bucky never had control. From the moment he dropped from the freight car over the mountains, he had lost his ability to make his own choices; he had lost his free will, the one thing that all human beings possessed. Hydra took away his free will, trying to make him less than human and they had almost succeeded.
"Then I guess, asking you and Sam to be friends is out of the question?" Steve finally said, attempting to lighten the dark cloud that hung over them.
Bucky cracked a faint smile. "I think that's stretching it, punk."
Steve returned the smile, and for a moment the two of them were the same friends that they had always been. Then Bucky's eyes dropped to the case still clasped in Steve's hands.
"Right," Steve said. "This." He shook the case gently. "You're wondering what this is, right?"
Bucky nodded.
"T'Challa and I talked a lot about what would happen if they ever came for you. In fact, we prepared for it. We hoped it wouldn't come to it, but we also knew it wasn't realistic to think that they wouldn't eventually find you. T'Challa had a jet ready for us, or just you, in case I didn't get to Wakanda in time. He gave us some money and fake papers, so that we'd be ready to leave as soon as possible," Steve said.
"But?" Bucky prompted after a few beats of silence.
"But," Steve agreed, "that wouldn't be enough if the people after us were determined. And, when it comes to you, they will be. Every government wants their hands on you, whether it's to bring you to some form of justice for what Hydra made you do or to possess you for your skillset, and they're willing to go far to get what they want."
Bucky hesitantly nodded; they knew all this already.
"We couldn't leave you defenseless, Buck," Steve said, finally undoing the locks on the case and slowly prying it open. Inside a metal arm gleamed, snuggly sitting among black padding. The arm was silver, like it had been before, but this arm was different somehow. It looked stronger, more powerful.
"What the hell is that?" Bucky whispered, his eyes glaring at the arm. "Why would you bring that?"
"You need to be able to protect yourself," Steve said. "You can't do that if you're missing an arm." He had expected resistance from Bucky on this front, and he wasn't disappointed.
"I can protect myself fine as I am," Bucky said, but they both knew that argument was weak.
Steve opened his mouth to start listing the countless arguments that he had prepared for this moment, but Bucky cut him off.
"I don't want it, Steve."
The words halted in Steve's mouth, useless. The one thing that Bucky could have said to make Steve listen was those words and Bucky knew it. He knew that Steve hated that Bucky had never had the ability to make his own choices, and he was using it against Steve.
Bucky didn't wait for Steve to say anything before he got to his feet and moved back to the front of the jet. He sat in Steve's recently emptied seat. Steve could see Sam giving Bucky a surprised glance, but he didn't say anything. Both men were silent in their mutual dislike of each other, but both had the understanding that while Steve was their best friend they were both annoyed with him at the moment. So for now, they were hesitant allies.
Steve frowned at the backs of their seats, snapping the case closed. It hadn't gone how he had hoped, but he had been strangely optimistic that Bucky would go along with it. Clearly he was wrong.
Despite wanting to respect Bucky's decisions, Steve wasn't ready to give up on this. He would try again to convince his friend, but for now he would let it be.
Tony was having a hard time finding the information he needed. The information that Ross was hiding from him was strangely elusive and didn't seem to be hiding anywhere.
That could mean a few things. One: Tony wasn't as good as he thought he was, but Tony highly doubted this was the reason. Two: They had upgraded their protection and Tony just hadn't been able to crack through it yet. Three: All the information was through word of mouth or paper format.
Tony refused to believe the first, the second seemed doubtful seeing as Tony had been attempting to find the information for a few hours now, but that left the third which seemed almost the most ridiculous in this technology infused world.
He rubbed a thumb over his eye, massaging the growing headache. He and Ross had gotten back to their home base in Africa, but Tony had insisted that he wouldn't be able to find Steve and Barnes again unless he had his proper equipment, not the shit that they had on base. Ross had grudgingly allowed Tony to get back on his jet and leave for Berlin early. Berlin because they were cooperating with the CIA base there; Tony hadn't thought much about it seeing as that's where they had brought Barnes the first time they managed to catch him.
Ross had wanted to make sure that Steve and Barnes weren't hiding somewhere close by before leaving himself, but even he knew that Steve hadn't stuck around and would probably be following Tony back soon.
That gave Tony some time to find out what he needed, but at this rate he was getting nowhere.
With a disgusted sigh, Tony sat back against the plush cushions of the chair. He pushed the tablet he had been working on away from him on the desk that the CIA had supplied for him. The desk was also holding a large computer that Tony was supposed to be using to track down Steve again, but he wasn't having any luck on that end either.
Glancing around the room that he had been shoved into, Tony spotted what he was looking for. Getting to his feet he crossed the small space to retrieve a tumbler and a bottle of Kentucky bourbon that he had specifically asked for. He uncorked the top of the bottle, pouring a generous amount into his glass. Tony ignored the ice, preferring the drink neat.
He took a long swallow of the liquid, trying not to think about what a waste the trip to Wakanda had turned out to be.
There was a brisk knock at the door of the office, and without waiting for a confirming word from Tony the door opened.
Everett Ross was a short man with graying blonde hair. He wore a crisp grey suit and his eyebrows were drawn down into a frown as he looked at Tony.
"Mr. Stark," he started. "Any news on the Barnes front?"
Tony quirked an eyebrow at him. "I've been back for two hours."
"Ross told me you were a genius," Everett said. There was a challenge in his voice.
Tony straightened in his chair, taking another swallow of his drink. "I am a genius." That was something that wasn't to be disputed. "But it took me months to figure out that King T'Challa was housing Barnes and you expect me to have found him again in two hours? I may be smart, but I'm not a god."
"Don't you know a god?" Everett said, coming farther into the room. He gave Tony's liquor a look, but didn't say anything about it.
"Yes," Tony said, nodding. "Thor. He's a good guy, but I doubt he can help us. He's got issues of his own to deal with."
Everett crossed his arms over his chest, leaning his hip against Tony's desk.
"Shouldn't it be easier to track Barnes down now that we've pushed them out of hiding?"
Tony shrugged. "It could be, but I highly doubt that Steve is going to go through the normal public channels to get out of Africa, so we won't get any hits looking at trains or airports. So our best chance right now is to hope they slip up when they finally come up for air, or to try and guess where they might go."
"Any ideas yet?"
"Again, it's been two hours," Tony said. "I'm working on it. When I know something so will you." Probably.
Everett gave Tony a lingering look as if he knew that Tony was perfectly capable and willing to not share the information.
Hell, Tony wouldn't trust himself either if he was in Everett's shoes.
He cleared his throat. "What about on your end? You've got your three special agents working on something right?"
Everett's eyes shuttered, causing Tony's to narrow.
"Yeah, they've got a different angle that I assigned them. Don't worry about them, Stark, worry about your job."
Evasion. Great. Everett and Ross were both keeping things from him. In fact, they were probably keeping information from Tony together. Those Ross bastards probably were on the exact same page and weren't gonna share with the rest of the class.
"Do you and Thaddeus get confused when people ask for Ross?" Tony said, changing the topic abruptly. He gave Everett a shit eating grin. "I admit I was surprised when the two of you decided to do a team up sort of thing. I know if it was me, I wouldn't want to share my name." He jabbed a finger at Everett. "Do you go by Ross one and Thaddeus by Ross Two?"
Everett snorted, turning on his heel. "Keep working, Stark." He left the room, shutting the door behind him.
Tony slumped back down into his chair. He glared at the drink clutched in his hand. It seemed like everyone was in on what was going on except him. Even those three agents probably knew more than he did.
Tony's eyes sparked. He knew that Ross and Everett wouldn't talk; they were too damn tight and they knew him too well to let anything slip. But those other three, they might mess up if he got them talking. And if there was one thing he was good at it was getting people to talk.
With an objective in mind, Tony turned back to the task of actually finding Steve and Barnes. He would find them again and when he did, he would know what the Rosses were planning.
Agents Locke, Branson, and Hardy had known when Everett had given them this assignment that it was an assignment of a lifetime. They would get to be the agents that helped apprehend the Winter Soldier. All of the agents on base had been foaming at the mouths to be part of Everett's highly classified mission.
Even though it was classified, everyone knew that it involved Secretory of State Ross and Tony Stark. And with those men involved, everyone knew that the mission had something to do with James Buchanan Barnes—aka the Winter Soldier.
Even with the information that Tony Stark brought forward about the real culprit of the bombings and when they actually had the man, Zemo, in their custody, no one had stopped looking for the Winter Soldier.
Everyone on base had seen the damage that the Winter Soldier had caused in only a few hours; it didn't matter if he hadn't been the bomber, he was still a dangerous assassin.
Everyone was eager to be the one to bring him in. Not just the U.S. but other countries too. Everett was determined to be the first.
Branson had told the others that their new angle wasn't a what, but a who.
Now the three of them were driving in a nondescript car to the location that Branson had pulled up on his phone.
"His name is Anton Grekov," Branson said, turning his head to include Hardy, who sat in the back, in the conversation. "He was a young man when he worked on the project. We're not sure how involved he was in the project or if he even knows anything, but it's our job to apprehend him and bring him in for questioning."
Hardy, looking slightly green in the backseat, held up a hand. "Let me get this straight. This man, Grekov, worked with General Vasily Karpov and was involved with keeping the Winter Soldier healthy and ready? At what capacity was he involved? Is he even going to be any help?"
"It doesn't matter how little or much he was involved," Locke put in. "He's a new lead that Everett wants us to check out. Besides, he might be more talkative than Zemo; we might get more information out of him about Barnes. He was there during the later half of the red book's notes. He has to have info about Barnes."
"But what?" Hardy persisted. "How much is he going to be able to tell us?"
"It may not be much," Branson conceded. "But we have to do our job and see what we can find. Who knows, he might be able to tell us where Barnes might go."
"Go?" Hardy muttered, leaning back. "He's with Rodgers. Where they go is anyone's guess."
"It's Stark's guess," Locke said. "But we need to help if we can."
"Of course," Hardy was quick to agree. "I'm not saying that we shouldn't."
"Then what are you saying?" Branson asked from the driver seat. He glanced at Hardy through the mirror.
"I'm just wondering if this is the best use of our time," Hardy said.
"I'd say so," Locke put in. "Whether this man is useful to us or not, he worked closely with the Winter Soldier and probably committed many crimes by association against the U.S. He should be brought to justice."
Hardy quieted at that, but the other two could still feel his unease from where they sat.
The rest of the car ride was silent. When they arrived at Grekov's home, they all moved from the car as one. Their movements mirrored each other's, hinting at why they had been chosen by Everett as his team on this mission.
At the door of Grekov's house, Locke raised her hand, rapping her knuckles against the wooden door.
They waited a few beats, listening to the shuffling from inside, before the door opened to reveal a friendly looking man with greying hair. "Yes?" He asked, his Russian accent barely audible.
"Mr. Grekov?" Locke asked, taking point. She held her badge up.
His face fell a fraction at the sound of his name. Presumably it hadn't been the one he had been using since leaving the Winter Soldier project.
"So you've finally come," he said, pushing the door open more. "I knew it would happen someday."
Locke ignored this. "Sir, if you could come with us, we have some questions for you."
Grekov's hand disappeared from view, making all three agents tense, but it only reappeared with a jacket. He pulled it on, stepping outside. "What are you here about?" The question seemed pointless to all parties involved.
"I think you know why, sir," Locke said, lightly taking Grekov's arm and leading him to the car.
"The Soldat," Grekov said, some of his accent bleeding through. "You've come about him."
Locke helped Grekov into the car before getting into the passenger seat up front. Hardy and Branson followed her example, their doors shutting them in the silence of the vehicle.
Locke swiveled in her seat to eye Grekov. She nodded at Hardy, who sat beside the Russian. He gave her a quick nod, taking out a pair of silver handcuffs.
"Sorry, sir," he said, taking Grekov's willing wrists and locking the cuffs around them.
"I saw the news about him, the Soldat," Grekov continued as if the pause in their conversation hadn't occurred. "I knew that he was missing after the initial fall of Hydra, but it wasn't until he blew up the UN building did I see him again."
Locke exchanged a look with Branson.
"I'm sorry, sir, but if we could wait until we get back to our base, this conversation will be a lot easier," Branson said as he started the car.
"Of course," Grekov said, settling back against the seat.
Locke turned back in her seat to face the front. She couldn't believe that bringing Grekov in was this easy. Not only was he willing to cooperate, but he was also willing to talk about the Winter Soldier. Perhaps this trip wasn't a waste like Hardy seemed to think.
The jet settled into the thick grass the covered the countryside of the small town that Bucky had told Sam and Steve about.
Sam grudgingly admitted (to himself) that Bucky wasn't wrong about the area; it was out of the way and would be the last place that Tony and Ross would think to look, especially being in Germany, close to the CIA base.
He tried to ignore the tension in the air that was being emitted between Steve and Bucky. He hadn't been listening to what they had been talking about in the back of the jet and it wasn't until Bucky voluntarily moved to sit up front with Sam, did he realize that the two of them were arguing about something.
They hadn't said a word to each other that whole time and a thick silence reigned over the jet, making Sam's shoulders stiffen and tense.
Now that they were actually at Bucky's "safe place" they would have to break the silence.
Sam stretched out his arms, trying to loosen the tension. He eyed Bucky to his right, who had spent the whole trip staring straight ahead.
Sam cleared his throat. "So, what now?" His voice was loud in the quiet of jet.
Bucky seemed to shake himself slightly before looking over to Sam. His face was blank, but he stood up, motioning for Sam to follow. As he passed Steve, he paused and waited for Steve to get to his feet as well.
Steve and Sam followed Bucky out into the darkening area. Sam had landed the jet on the very outskirts of the town, close to the thick woods that surrounded the area. He figured that it would be easier to hide the jet that way.
Sam squinted into the distance, catching sight of the glow of the town. It was a couple of miles off, but it wouldn't be a difficult hike from where they were now.
He glanced back around to the others. Steve was eyeing Bucky uncertainly, while Bucky stared straight ahead.
Sam suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. He rubbed a hand across his close cut hair, stepping closer to the others.
"Look," he said, breaking into the awkwardness. "I don't know what's going on, but save it for later. Right now we gotta cover the jet, get our supplies and trek into town without attracting too much attention. And who knows what's going to happen after we manage all that."
Steve was already nodding by the time Sam had finished. "He's right, Buck," Steve said, shifting closer to his friend. "We can discuss our issue later—."
"I don't want to discuss it later," Bucky all but snapped, his eyes narrowing at Steve. His body leaned forward aggressively.
Sam's hand jumped down to his waist, where he had holstered his Beretta. His fingers brushed the butt of the pistol, but he didn't draw it.
Bucky's eyes flickered to Sam's hands and he gave Sam a sneer, almost as if he was daring Sam to give it his best shot.
Steve reached out, putting a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Take it easy, both of you." His head swiveled, giving both men firm looks. "I know you don't want to talk about it, Bucky, but we will. We have to. But for now, it doesn't matter. It's more important to get into the town."
Bucky held Sam's eyes around Steve's form, promising retribution if Sam made a move on him. But then the moment ended and Bucky appeared to shake himself, mentally and physically. He dropped his eyes, heaving a breath.
"There's a house, on the edge of town. No one lives there, and it's left alone by the townspeople," Bucky said carefully.
Sam's eyes narrowed. "Wait a minute." He held up a hand. "What is this place? Have you been there before?"
Bucky gave a slow nod. "Affirmative...Yes." His hand clenched by his side.
"When?" Sam demanded, frowning at Bucky's words.
Steve shot him a look that warned Sam to take it easy, but he turned his head back around to Bucky; as curious as Sam about the answer.
Bucky chewed on his lip for a beat before saying, "September 24th, 1956."
Sam heard Steve's harsh intake of air beside him, but he kept his focus on Bucky. "So you've taken us to a place that you used when you were still working for Hydra."
"I wasn't working for Hydra," Bucky snapped.
"Oh, excuse me," Sam said, raising both hands, "when Hydra brainwashed you and used you. You gotta stop using that excuse for your actions now, man."
"It's not an excuse," Bucky snapped. "I know what I did, but if you think that I voluntarily worked for them then you've got less brains than I give you credit for." Bucky's mouth snapped shut and his eyes widened as if he couldn't believe the words that had come from his mouth.
Beside him, Steve looked just as surprised. Sam swore he saw a flash of recognition in Steve's eyes, but it was gone just as quickly.
"I'm sorry," Bucky said after a tense beat.
Sam shrugged. He had expected an outburst sooner rather than later. "It doesn't change the fact that you've brought us to a place that Hydra used. It's a Hydra safe house, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"Shit," Sam said, leaning back on his heels. "So you've led us to an enemy base. Doesn't this seem a little fucked to either of you?"
"It's not in operation anymore," Bucky said. "They stopped using it almost fifteen years ago. I don't know why."
"No offense, man, but you're not the most reliable when it comes to remembering things," Sam said. He turned to Steve. "He could've led us into a trap without even realizing it. We can't stay here."
"It's not a trap," Bucky said, frustrated. "I have control."
"You didn't in Berlin," Sam said.
"That was different," Bucky growled.
"Yeah, because some lunatic had those fucking words and used them to take your control," Sam said.
Bucky took a threatening step forward, only to be stopped by Steve's hand on his chest.
"Okay, stop. Both of you," Steve cut in. "Sam, back off."
Sam raised his hands and took a couple of steps back.
Steve turned to Bucky. "He's just worried and wants to make sure that we're not walking into this blind."
Bucky's breath was coming harshly out of his nose as he glared at Sam over Steve's shoulder.
"I believe you, Bucky," Steve said, causing Bucky's blue eyes to focus on him. "I know that you wouldn't knowingly walk us into a trap."
Bucky's expression went from hopeful back to closed off at the word 'knowingly.'
"But," Steve continued, "I trust you. I believe that you have control right now. Hydra doesn't have your mind without the words and no one has spoken them to you."
Bucky's face slowly began to clear again.
"Honestly, if this is a Hydra safe house, I doubt Tony would ever think to look for us here. This might be the best place we could stay," Steve said. He gave Sam a pointed look. "We aren't going in unprepared, Sam. We'll be okay."
Sam's mouth twisted slightly, but he gave Steve a slow nod. "Fine."
It was the best that Steve was going to get from Sam, and he accept it with a returned nod.
"Let's get the jet covered and get a move on," Steve said. He began to walk back towards the ramp on the jet, not checking to see if the other two were following him.
Sam and Bucky carefully didn't look at each as they set off after Steve.
The tension between the two of them had skyrocketed, but the fuse had eased for the moment.
Sam couldn't help but wonder how long it would take for the bomb to go off between them. At the rate they were going it wouldn't be long now.
A/N: Okay, so I just wanted to clarify a couple of things. The three agents (Branson, Hardy, and Locke) and Anton Grekov are all my characters. I just need them to help move the story along. Hopefully they don't annoy anyone too much (I know that OCs can kinda be annoying sometimes).
Also, I know that Sam is pretty aggressive towards Bucky and that might be a little out of character for him, but I thought it would be interesting to explore their relationship a little more.
Thanks for all the follows/favorites/reviews! They really do encourage me to write more/better.
Lastly, my goal with this story is to get a chapter out once a week, but I'm a pretty slow writer so we'll see if that actually happens. I also want to try and get it done by the end of the summer (again we'll see if it happens). In other words I can use all the encouragement I can get!