[A Mask of My Disguise]
Steve woke suddenly, not sure why he had startled awake. Light was streaming through the boards that covered the window in the room. Dust particles hovered in the air, white in the light. The windows were only for show; they couldn't be open or broken, protecting the house from any outside assault.
Steve inhaled, forcing air into his lungs. He sat up, looking over his shoulder to where Sam still slept. Bucky was gone; he had seen that the moment he woke up, but it wasn't really that surprising considering what had happened the night before.
Steve stood up, quietly padding from the room to the kitchen area.
Bucky sat at the table, his AR15 spread out in front of him. His palm was pressing against the top of the table as he glared at the pieces.
"Bucky?" Steve asked, his voice breaking from disuse.
Bucky's head snapped around, and his glare softened. "Morning, Steve."
"Morning?" Steve said cautiously. He walked further into the room, claiming the seat next to Bucky. "What're you up to here?"
Bucky followed Steve's gaze to the gun. He shrugged.
"Couldn't sleep."
"So you took your gun apart?"
"Hmm," Bucky said, his fingers darted forward to pluck up a black metal piece from the table. He rolled it between his thumb and forefinger.
"How many times?" Steve asked.
Bucky looked back to Steve. "A few."
Steve swallowed his sigh; he had hoped that Bucky had managed to get some sleep, but from the looks of it, he hadn't.
"You used to do this before, you know," Steve said softly. He reached forward, his finger lightly touched a piece of the weapon. "When we were both in our time," he added at Bucky's confused frown.
Bucky's face cleared. "You mean, when I was me, and you were Captain America fighting the Nazis."
"Yeah," Steve said. "Before any mission, I'd always find you cleaning your rifle. Usually multiple times. I'd always ask you by the third time if you thought it was clean this time. And you'd always say—,"
"You'll thank me tomorrow," Bucky cut in, his eyes staring over Steve's head into the past.
A smile broke out across Steve's lips. "Yeah. And you were always right. You'd save my ass from some Nazi or Hydra soldier before I'd even see him."
Bucky returned the smile, but his smile wasn't as bright as Steve's. "I remember that."
"Good," Steve said. He hesitantly leaned over, bumping Bucky's shoulders with his own. "Next time, let's try to remember something happier, huh?"
Bucky let out a soft laugh that could have been mistaken for a huff of breath. "Okay, deal."
They both stiffened at a shuffling sound from the hall, relaxing only when they saw Sam stumble in.
"You're normally more chipper in the morning," Steve said as a greeting.
Sam grunted, pulling a chair out from the table and sitting. "Normally, I get up and have a nice run that wakes up me up before I have to interact with people. Then I have some cold orange juice, which by the way, we don't have."
"Right," Steve said. "Food. We need to go into town today."
Silence fell over the three of them; despite the need to lay low, the need for food and supplies was strong.
Steve cleared his throat. "Well, I'll go."
"Not happening," Sam said just as Bucky said, "Not fucking likely."
Sam and Bucky shared a surprised look that they were actually agreeing on something.
Steve from his seat looked just as surprised, but his surprise was more from their vehemence rather than their agreement.
"You can't go, Steve," Sam said. "Look at you. You're a well known American icon. Even here, they're bound to know who you are."
Beside Steve, Bucky was nodding aggressively. "He's right, Steve. All three of us can't go; that'll attract too much attention, but out of all of us, you're the most likely to be recognized."
"What about you," Steve demanded gestured towards Bucky. "You've been on the news for months, granted it's died down a little, but you're not doing much better with the whole inconspicuous thing." He gave Bucky's one arm a pointed look.
Bucky shrugged; Steve wasn't wrong.
"So, that leaves me," Sam interjected, stabbing a thumb at himself. "Out of all of us, I've been on the news the least. I can get the stuff we need and back here in no time."
Bucky nodded. "Agreed."
Sam shot him a look that spoke volumes about what he thought of Bucky's agreement.
Bucky caught Sam's look and shot him a glare of his own.
"Alright," Steve said, his annoyance at being booted from the mission to collect supplies gone as Bucky and Sam's feud rose to take the brunt of his concern. "Sam, you can go. Bucky and I will stay here."
Sam broke the glaring contest to eye Steve. "No offense, Steve, but I was going to go whether you liked it or not. It's our only option."
"Noted," Steve said. "T'Challa left us some money. It's in my duffel in the corner." He pointed vaguely to the corner of the room.
Sam crossed the room, kneeling against the floorboards and rummaging through the pockets of Steve's green duffel.
Steve turned his gaze to Bucky. He leaned closer. "What's that about?" his voice dipped.
Bucky shrugged. "We've been over this, Steve, he doesn't like me and I don't like him. Apparently not even making sure you park your ass here for your safety isn't bringing us together."
"My safety?" Steve sputtered. "I can take care of myself—."
"Meanwhile bringing all of Stark's goons down on us," Bucky broke in. "You know why we can't show our faces. Sam'll be fine."
Steve sighed, eyeing Sam. "Yeah. I just wish one of us had his back. We don't know what's in this town."
"You worry too much," Sam said from his corner, standing with a wad of bills in hand. He strode to stand next to the others. "I know how to take care of myself too, Steve."
Bucky's mouth snapped shut as Sam entered the conversation again. He stood up, standing behind Steve.
"I know that, Sam," Steve said, turning his attention to Sam. "But you know how I feel about you going in without any backup."
"You guys are my backup," Sam insisted. "You'll just have to wait from the house, instead of trailing me." He gave Bucky a sidelong look. "You wouldn't need to worry if we knew more about this place, other than Hydra apparently thought it was important enough to have a safe house here."
Bucky turned sharply. "Again with this?"
Sam faced him. "Yeah, because you know what? I'm sick of tiptoeing around it. Clearly, you, the Bucky Barnes you, didn't decide to bring us here. The Winter Soldier did. This place was safe for the Winter Soldier because he—you—were Hydra."
"Yeah, I was," Bucky snapped. "I'm not anymore. How many times do I need to say it before you believe it?"
"I do believe you," Sam said evenly. "I just don't trust you. You say that you aren't Hydra anymore, but you lost it in Berlin. Those words snapped you back into their puppet. We don't know what else they did to you. Anything could be stored away in your mind and we wouldn't know it until it was too late."
"I know what they did to me," Bucky said, his voice dangerously low. "Do you want to hear about it? Do you want to know what they did each time I woke up? Do you want to hear what they did to me to make me complacent?" Each sentence brought Bucky a step closer to Sam until he was standing chest to chest with the other man. "Just because you're Steve's friend doesn't mean I'm willing to take this shit from you."
Bucky's hand was clenched at his side, it twitched slightly as if he was about to shove it into Sam's chest, but he didn't. He took a step back before turning in his heel and stalking from the room.
Steve watched him go, a ragged breath heaving from his lungs. He rounded on Sam, his eyes flashing.
"What was that?"
Sam turned to Steve. "I'm sorry." He rubbed a hand over his head roughly. "I know he's your friend, Steve, and I know that all this shit he's into isn't his fault. I know that. But I keep thinking that all of this...it's too easy. Maybe not easy," Sam amended, frustrated. "The point is, Steve, that he can't be trusted. He doesn't have control over his own mind yet, if he ever will, and it's going to get someone hurt or killed and I don't want that person to be me or you."
"It's not going to be," Steve insisted. "Bucky is getting better. Hell, he already is better than he was in D.C. He's getting there, Sam. But you hounding him every time he opens his mouth isn't helping."
Sam grudgingly nodded. "Yeah."
"Good," Steve said, satisfied with Sam's answer for the moment.
Sam held up a hand, holding Steve in place. "Can I ask you something before you go find him?" He gave the doorway that Bucky had vanished through a dark look.
Steve paused. "Yeah, of course."
Sam shifted. "What exactly is the plan here? We managed to escape from Wakanda with Bucky and no tails. But now what? Do we stay here for the rest of our lives, or are we constantly going to be moving? What's our end game, Steve?"
Steve sighed, raking a hand through his blonde hair. "I don't know, Sam. I don't know what we're doing. I know this isn't any kind of life, the constant awareness of being followed, the moving from city to city, all of it. I knew what I was doing when I sided with Bucky, but I can't ask you to do the same."
He fixed Sam with serious eyes. "If you want to go home, I will find a way to make that happen."
Sam leaned back on his heels, contemplating it. After a long moment, he shook his head. "I do what you do, remember? I'm not leaving you alone."
"Alone with Bucky?" Steve asked, but waved a hand, dismissing any answer Sam might have given. "Thank you. I mean it, Sam. Thank you." He paused, letting his gratitude sink in. "As for what we're going to do next, I don't know. But we'll figure it out. Together."
Sam could appreciate Bucky's reaction; he'd probably react the same way if some guy that was supposed to be on his side kept questioning his loyalty. He knew that he wasn't really being fair towards the other man, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was going on that they were all missing. That something bad was about to happen and there was nothing any of them could do to stop it.
It wasn't Bucky's fault that he had been brainwashed by Hydra, but that didn't mean that he could be unintentionally leading them exactly where Hydra wanted them.
When Sam had first met Bucky, Bucky had torn the stirring wheel out of his car before proceeding to try and kill all of them. It wasn't an ideal meeting.
The second time, Bucky ripped his way out of the metal and glass container that the CIA had provided for him before almost choking the life out of Sam. Again, not a great way to start any relationship.
So basically, the first few impressions of Bucky that Sam had were when Bucky was under Hydra's control.
Steve had known Bucky before the Hydra shit, but Sam had only ever known the darker side of Bucky. A side that was still inside Bucky, a side that Steve knew but didn't want to face. Or at least, that's what Sam told himself. So he'd face it for Steve. At the very least, he'd be the outsider, trying to watch Bucky for signs of Hydra. And bringing them to a Hydra safe house had sent Sam's alarms blaring.
Something was off about this whole thing and Sam was going to figure it out.
Sam strode down the picturesque sidewalks, trying to make sense of the German language being spoken around him, and ignoring the odd looks that the townspeople sent his way. For a brief moment, Sam wished that Steve had been able to talk him into letting one of them come with him into town, but he brushed those feelings aside.
Sam glanced down at the crumpled list in hand, eyeing Steve's blocky letters. Underneath Steve's words, Bucky had scrawled the items' names in German, so that all Sam would have to do would be to show the list to an employee and they would be able to get Sam the product without the hassle of Sam trying to mime what he needed.
Sam felt a pang of guilt for the way he had gone off at Bucky earlier, but the guilt was over whelmed by his fears about what might be knocking around inside Bucky's head.
He squinted at the list again. The essentials needed was mostly food, but there was some other supplies, like clothes, on the list.
Sam eyed the hanging signs over the stores that lined the street, going into the first one that looked like it might hold the desired supplies.
After a few tries, he managed to talk to one of the workers, who looked over Sam's list. He peered at Bucky's scribbles and understanding lit in his eyes.
He led Sam through the store, finding most of the food items needed.
Sam left the store without incident. He felt like this trip was going well, better than he expected, and that maybe he had been a little harsh on Bucky for leading them to this town.
A few stops later and Sam had crossed off most of the items on the paper. He was feeling pretty good about himself and the trip into town when his pocket began to ring.
Pausing on the edge of a sidewalk, Sam struggled to dig a hand into his pocket, pulling out the burner phone that all of them were equipped with.
With most of the bags in one hand, Sam flipped open the phone, pressing it to his ear.
"Steve?"
"Sam," Steve's voice sounded on the other end. "Bucky's not here."
Sam halted, one foot hovering over the curb. "What?"
"He's not here," Steve repeated, panic licking at the edge of his voice. "After you left, I checked the house; he was laying on his cot, so I left him alone. But I just looked again two minutes ago and he wasn't there."
"Okay, so maybe he went outside," Sam said, starting to cross the road.
"I'm leaving the house," Steve said. "I'm going to look for him."
"No, Steve, don't," Sam said, halfway across the road. "He probably just needed some air. Don't go outside." He didn't tell Steve about the panic that was bubbling in his chest; this was exactly what he thought was going to happen with Bucky. Bucky's Hydra training would take over and he would leave, returning with Hydra men to kill them.
"Sam," Steve started, ready for an argument, but that was all Sam heard.
Something shoved into his back, propelling him forward and out of the way of a careless driver. Sam felt the burn of the car as it skidded past, the driver pushing hard on the breaks.
It missed Sam, barely, but the man who had shoved Sam out of the way wasn't so lucky.
The man rolled up the hood, crashing into the windshield of the car. The windshield splintered under the man's weight and the force of him hitting it.
The car jerked to a halt, causing the man to peel away from the windshield and fall to the ground in front of the car.
"Holy shit," Sam gasped.
He wasn't the only one. People around him were yelling things in German, watching the scene with open mouths.
Sam dropped all of his bags that he had managed to hold onto, running to the fallen man.
The man lay on his stomach, face covered by long hair. He was already beginning to sit up when Sam reached him.
"Hey, take it easy—," Sam broke off, staring at the cold blue eyes that glared back. "Bucky?"
Bucky's eyes flickered around, taking in the gaping people. He ducked his head, letting his hair cover his features.
"I need to leave. Now."
Sam didn't argue. He reached out to help Bucky up, but Bucky brushed off Sam's hands. He got to his feet, seemingly unhurt from the impact with the car.
"You need to get out of here too," Bucky hissed.
Sam nodded.
With his head still down, Bucky shoved his way into the crowd of people. Within seconds, he had disappeared, how, Sam wasn't sure.
Sam got up from his knees, going around to the side of the car. He wrenched open the driver's door, leaning in to check the man's pulse. It was strong under his fingers, despite the blood that was streaming from the man's head.
"Someone call an ambulance," Sam demanded over his shoulder. "This man needs help."
From his wheelchair on the sidewalk, an old man watched Sam. His foggy eyes flicking to where Bucky had disappeared. His wrinkled hands gripped the armrests of his chair as he squinted into the crowd of people, scanning them for Bucky.
He swallowed, licking his lips. He turned his attention to the caregiver at his side, who was watching the scene unfold with wide eyes.
"I want to go," the old man said in German.
The woman jerked, looking down, but nodded. She positioned herself behind the chair, beginning to wheel him away.
The old man eyed Sam once more before saying softly. "He's come back."
Tony's head popped up as his computer beeped, startling him awake. He groggily knuckled his eyes, blinking rapidly at the glowing computer screen.
Clearing his throat, Tony tapped his phone. "What do we got, FRIDAY?"
"An alert, sir," FRIDAY's voice sounded back. "One of the alerts you set up as been pinged."
Tony squinted slightly at the computer screen, his fingers dancing across the keyboard. "Which one?"
"Facial recognition, sir."
Tony's fingers paused. Steve would never have been that stupid to let his picture get taken, unless something had happened.
"Is Steve okay?" Tony demanded.
"I don't know, sir," FRIDAY replied. "It wasn't Captain Rogers' face that was captured."
Tony relaxed a fraction. "Who then?"
"Sam Wilson."
Tony frowned, pulling up the images that had pinged his alert. There were several different pictures, most of them from different angles. The first few showed Sam kneeling in front of a car with a broken windshield, a man dressed in all black was hunched in front of him.
The man in black's head was down, his dark hair covering his face, but Tony would've know him anywhere. His stomach dropped and his hands froze over the keys.
"That's Barnes," Tony murmured.
"The man in black, sir?" FRIDAY asked. "I can't get any confirmation. There aren't any clear pictures of him."
"Doesn't matter," Tony said. "That's him."
He tore his eyes from his parents' murderer, looking Sam over. The other man looked okay, a little worse for wear, but okay given the situation.
Sam's hands were frozen in the picture, reaching out for Barnes' shoulders. Sam's forearm and hands were red with blood, but it didn't look serious.
"What happened?" Tony asked.
"According to the sources, there was a small accident. Mr. Wilson was crossing the street and the driver, a man on his phone, wasn't paying attention." FRIDAY paused.
"And?" Tony prompted.
"And, it's unclear what happened, but Mr. Wilson avoided the car." FRIDAY finished after a moment.
Tony eyed the scene, his mouth curling. The car's windshield was totaled, clearly someone had smashed into it and if that someone wasn't Sam, then it could only be one other person in the picture. Barnes.
Tony wasn't sure how he felt about Barnes saving someone that Tony cared about. It messed with his image of Barnes as the dead eyed assassin from the security video of his parents' death.
He pushed aside the conflicting images and got up, cracking his neck. "Get me everything you've got on where they are. I'm going to see the Rosses."
Tony burst into the office room, not caring that one of the Rosses secretaries was doing a funny half run after him, attempting to stop him from entering the room.
"I've found them," he announced, waving his tablet in the air.
Both Everett and Thaddeus Ross looked up from the table that they sat at, annoyed looks mirrored on their faces. But the annoyance disappeared quickly when they actually processed Tony's words.
"Where?" Ross demanded, getting to his feet.
Everett, still sitting at the table reached forward, closing the thin red book that lay in front of him.
Tony's eyes followed the movement, but didn't ask about it.
"Some small town here in Germany," Tony said, waving a hand as if the details didn't matter. "This picture," he paused, placing his tablet on the table and flicking up the image of Sam crouched in front of Barnes, "was taken a few hours ago. They're here and they're close."
Everett leaned forward on his elbows, peering at the picture. "Is that Sam Wilson? I thought you said you found Rogers and Barnes?"
"I did," Tony said impatiently. He jabbed a finger at Barnes. "That's Barnes."
"Are you sure?" Ross said, excitement bleeding away. "We can't see his face."
"Yes, I'm sure," Tony said. "Out of all the Avengers, Sam Wilson is Steve Rogers' closest ally. He wouldn't leave Steve. Wherever Sam is, Steve isn't far. And we know that wherever Steve is, Barnes is."
Ross was slowly nodding, but Everett didn't look convinced from his spot at the table.
"Look, you don't know Sam and Steve like I do," Tony said, directing this to Everett. "Trust me on this."
Ross turned to Everett. "He knows them better than we ever will. Besides, this is the only lead we have right now."
There was a short pause and then Everett said, "Fine. Take the men you need and go get them. If Barnes isn't there, at least bring Sam in."
Ross bristled at Everett's tone. "I know. Wilson is my man; he's been on the run for months, of course I'm bringing him in."
"Ladies," Tony said, jumping back into the conversation. "You can argue about who's in charge later. Right now, I suggest we move it. Who knows how long Steve and the others will stay there."
"Are you hurt?" Steve demanded as soon as Sam entered the house, broken boxes of food still in the plastic bags that Sam carried.
"I'm fine," Sam said, raising a hand to fend Steve off, but Steve only grabbed Sam's arm to inspect the long gash that trailed up his arm.
"Where's Bucky?" Sam asked, allowing himself to be dragged to the table and sat down. He dropped the bags down at his feet.
Steve glanced over his shoulder and Sam followed his gaze. Bucky was hunched in the corner, his back shoved against the wall. His arm was wrapped protectively around his waist and his mouth a pressed into a tight line.
Sam turned his attention back to Steve who had gotten out the First Aid kit and was busy cleaning and bandaging Sam's arm.
"Is he okay?" Sam asked quietly. "He took the brunt of the car."
"I'm fine," Bucky said from his corner.
Steve's mouth twisted. "You wouldn't have even been in this situation, if you had told me where you were going, or if you hadn't gone in the first place." Steve was doing his best to control his anger, making his words sound clipped.
He knew his anger wasn't directed at Bucky necessarily, but at what had happened to Bucky. He was more scared for what could have happened than angry at his friend.
"If I hadn't been there, it could've been Sam in that car's windshield," Bucky said, pushing off from the wall and dropping his arm from its position around his waist. "And you and I both know, that he wouldn't have been able to walk away from something like that so easily."
"Why were you there?" Sam said, breaking into the conversation. He pulled his freshly bandaged arm away from Steve.
"I needed to get out," Bucky said, directing this over Steve to Sam. "And Steve wanted someone to watch your back."
"So you volunteered?" Sam asked wryly.
Bucky shrugged.
"We're gonna need to move," Steve said, getting up. "There's no way that that incident didn't attract attention." His anger from earlier leaving his words, as he focused on the next step.
Sam stood up too, lightly fingering the white bandage on his arm. He nodded.
"I may have stayed longer than I should have at the crash," he said. "I wanted to make sure the man was okay." Sam directed this to Bucky who was giving him a look.
"Of course," Steve said. "But now our cover is blown—."
"If we ever had it in the first place," Sam interjected.
Bucky rolled his eyes, spinning on his heel to stalk out through the hall. "I'll pack up the other room," he called over his shoulder.
Sam shot Steve a semi-apologetic look before they both started to pack up their few belongings.
It didn't them long; they had only been at the house for a day. Soon their bulging bags were piled near the door. All that was left was to arm themselves and leave.
Sam was in the other room, bringing the last of their bags to the main room. So for the moment, it was just Steve and Bucky.
They stood around the table, weapons littered on the surface.
Bucky's head was down, as he shifted through the guns.
Steve glanced over at Bucky, eyeing the space where his metal arm would go. He wished that he had pressed harder for Bucky to replace it with the one that T'Challa had given them; he had sinking feeling that Bucky was going to need both arms sooner rather than later.
"Here," Bucky said, stepping towards Steve. He held out a heavy black pistol in his hand. "You're gonna to need something."
Steve eyed the gun; he hadn't used one for a long time, really not since he had woken up in the future.
"It's a Glock 19. It's a good gun, reliable, and easy to use," Bucky said, hand still hovering in the air with the weapon.
Steve hesitantly reached forward, taking the weapon. He slid the magazine from the Glock, checking that it was fully loaded. He shoved it back in before loading a bullet into the chamber.
Bucky nodded approvingly, as if he knew that Steve would never forget his training from the war. He picked up a hard, black holster, giving it to Steve.
Steve took it, putting the holster on his hip. He then pushed the Glock into the holster.
"The safety," Bucky said, nodding at the gun on Steve's hip, "is on the trigger. So no little lever to push on the side."
Steve nodded his understanding.
There was a creak behind Bucky; Sam entered the room, with two duffels slung over his shoulder.
"It's all packed up in there—," he started, but stopped when the front and only door clicked.
All three of them froze, staring at the door as it hummed and then creaked open an inch.
Gloved fingers curled around the door's edge and pulled it open the rest of the way.
Bucky sprang into action, leaping forward to shove Steve out of the way as a canister rolled into the room. It exploded, white smoke billowing from it.
To Bucky's left, Sam immediately began hacking.
Steve's lips were pressed tightly together as he held his breath. The Glock that Bucky had given him was out, two hands firmly clasping it.
But he didn't need to use it; no one was coming in. Through the smoke, Bucky could see multiple figures standing outside the room, but they made no move to enter.
Bucky's lungs were starting to burn from lack of air, next to him, Sam was on the floor, choking.
He exchanged a swift look with Steve, both of their eyes red and streaming.
If the men outside weren't coming in, that meant that they wanted Bucky and the others to come out to them. They most likely had more men surrounding the house, leaving no other exit. They were going to wait for Steve and Bucky to leave or succumb to the gas.
Bucky growled, crouching and picking Sam up. He slung Sam's arm over his shoulder, and with Sam leaning heavily against him, they started to exit the room.
Steve was at Bucky's six, his weapon out and pointed at the men outside.
In the clean air, Sam immediately began to hack, but his breathing eased a little. Bucky let go of the other man, pulling out his own pistol.
The men, clad all in black, had their rifles pointed at Steve and the others.
Bucky couldn't see their faces because of the black helmets they wore, but he could tell they were all nervous, which meant that these men weren't just some random men from the town. These men knew who he was, and probably Steve as well.
There was no sign of Iron Man, which also meant that these men weren't American. They were something else.
"Who are you?" Bucky snarled his voice hoarse, training his pistol on one faceless man before moving to the next.
"Forgotten so soon?" a new voice sounded from behind the wall of men.
Bucky felt his spine stiffen, though he wasn't sure why. From his side, Bucky felt Steve do the same.
He didn't look over to his friend, instead he kept his eyes on the men in front of them as they stepped aside for the new voice.
A creaking sound filled the air, and an old man in a wheelchair inched his way forward.
Bucky frowned at the man, his pistol dropping to cover him even though the man didn't look like he could do anything much less attempt to kill Bucky or Steve.
"Who are you?" Steve demanded from Bucky's side. "Are you working for Ross? Or Hydra?"
The old man's eyes flickered from Bucky to Steve. He gave Steve a yellow toothed smile.
"Ah, Captain," he said. "I've read much about you; the man who tried to save the world and failed. And is still failing."
"Hydra," Steve growled, his knuckles whitening as his grip on the Glock tightened.
"Yes," the old man said, his chair coming closer. His eyes glinted, going from Steve to Bucky. "We've come to reclaim our property."
A/N: You guys, I'm pretty impressed with myself. I literally can't believe that I'm keeping up with this story. Normally, it's close to a month for each chapter. For real.
Anyway. Things are starting to happen! Yay! I'm hoping this all makes sense (and yes, I know that Steve and Bucky could probably fight their way out of the room and take on the Hydra men outside, but I wanted this to happen instead, so yeah).
Also, I hope that my explanation for why Sam is still cold towards Bucky makes sense. I wanted to show his side a little more because (as well all know) Sam is a pretty chill and nice guy, so he's isn't just acting like a jerk for the sake of acting like a jerk. Does that make sense?
As always, thanks for the follows/favorites/reviews! You guys will never know how encouraging they are to me! (they're one of the main reasons that I'm getting these chapters out and done)