I'm overwhelmed by the support for this story. You guys are amazing! I hope you enjoy, as always please let me know what you think of this chapter!

In case you were curious, the reference at the end is to the song Lost Stars (Adam Levine) from the movie Begin Again, which stares our very own Mark Ruffalo. If you haven't seen it yet, I'd HIGHLY recommend it! It's on Netflix, and I watched it twice this weekend because it was that good, and this song gives me LIFE.

She tried to pull the baseball cap down lower over her face as she slid into her seat next to Nat. "Are we really sure he's ready for this?" She asked as she passed Nat her beer.

She scoffed, rolling her eyes and leaning over to smile as Bruce sat gingerly next to Ella. "Come on, lighten up a little bit. He's been working so hard, and on his best behavior. He deserves this."

She sighed, biting her lip. "I know, I know. It just makes me anxious, him and Steve are spending one on one time together alone for the first time."

Bruce chuckled beside her. "I'd hardly call this one on one, considering you bribed the ticket office to get us seats within shouting distance, Ella."

She jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow smiling. "What? Aren't I supposed to be close, just in case something happens? Isn't that the point of the bond in the first place?" She raised her eyebrows innocently, but all three knew it was anything but.

After last night's kiss, which was so unbelievable she still hadn't fully processed it, James had burst into the common room in the morning whistling and smiling like he'd won a damn Olympic medal, proud as could be. She'd ducked her head and blush, trying to scoot out of the room, but his metal arm snaked out, and before she could blink she was flush against his chest as he leaned down to press a lingering kiss on her cheek. "Morning, doll," he'd hummed against her skin, before releasing her with a chuckle as she practically ran from the room before she melted into a puddle.

After therapy with Bruce, as he called it, he'd pronounced loudly during training that he was ready for some extracurricular activity. She'd frozen, stunned, and got a big black eye to show for it as Nat landed a roundhouse kick right on her crimson face. "Not with you, doll, I think you're the one whose not ready for that," he'd smirked and winked at her, so damn proud of herself, while she pressed a frozen bag of peas to her face and wished the floor would swallow him whole.

And then, much to her amazement and Steve's glee, he asked whether they could check another thing off his list, and go to a Mets game. He'd grumbled loudly about that one, about how it was a damn shame the Brooklyn Dodgers moved, about how that neighborhood had history and deserved their own team, about how he'd be struck dead before being caught at a Yankees game. So the Mets it was, and here she found herself creeping a section and a few rows away while watching him drink a beer and laugh with Steve, looking for the first time in a while like an average person just enjoying a night out with his friend at a ball game.

It warmed her heart, watching him enjoy himself, and she saw little glimmers of the man he used to be, in the way he'd flirt with the elderly ladies seated nearby, in the way he'd laugh too loud, in the way he'd say something to make Steve cough and blush.

"Do you want the one on the left, or the right?" Nat asked beside her, chomping away on a box of cracker jacks as she gestured with her beer towards the field.

She drug her gaze away and back towards the field, tilting her head and pretending to purse her lips in thought. "Oh, absolutely the right. Look at the ass on that one," Bruce teased beside her, pitching his voice higher.

She giggled, shaking her head. "Neither, I want the one on the pitcher's mound. Do you see that curve? Yum."

Bruce snorted and rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he took a sip of his beer, while Nat hummed appreciatively and mused about whether hip speed correlated to pitching speed.

"Remind me next time to go to boys night instead of girls night," Bruce drawled, finishing the rest of his beer. "And you say men objectify women," he mocked, nudging Ella's shoulder.

"All's fair in asses and baseball, Brucey," Nat teased, leaning over Ella's lap to pat his thigh with a wink.

"Shut it and stand, crazy widow, this is the National Anthem starting," he shot back, rising to stand as they took their baseball caps off to meet him. Ella leaned her head on Nat's shoulder, smiling as she thought about how strange it was to be at a baseball game with two Avengers, supervising two super soldiers as they saw their first game in 70 plus years.

She heard the rumbling of the jets overhead as three combat planes zipped overhead, early for the pre-game flyover as they momentarily drowned out the singer down by the pitchers mound. And then she felt it, rolling over her in waves. White-hot rage, blistering its way up her spine and over her arms, burning her skin in intensity, before settling into a coolness chillier than ice. "No," she whispered, face white with horror as she scrambled past Bruce and down the row to get to the aisle, searching through the crowd for a glimpse of him.

"What is it?" Nat yelled over the singer, running after her as they sprinted towards the next section, hoping over the barrier as people yelled and the Anthem continued in.

"Where is he? Can you see him?" Ella was shouting, frantic as she ran, pushing people as she tried to get there in time.

"Who, Bucky?" Bruce was yelling now as he ran after them, and his skin was starting to turn a light shade of green as his anxiety kicked up a notch.

"The Soldier," she cried, her heart breaking for him. "Nat- help Bruce! I've got to find him!"

"You go," Nat shouted, turning to rest her hands on Bruce's face as she tried to calm him down. "I've got this!" She called over her shoulder.

And then Ella was running again, sprinting, directed by the horrified cries and shouts as people scattered a few rows over in the distance while the singer sang of the rockets' red glare.

Because there he was, in all his glory. Face cold, eyes hard, metal arm shifting, glinting in the fading sunlight, as he held Steve a foot off the air, his legs dangling as he clawed and tried to pry his fingers free.

The Winter Soldier.

"James," she shrieked, closing the distance and moving so he could see her through the crowd. She could hear Steve pleading, his eyes full of hurt as he tried not to panic, tried to hold back from using force to get away.

When she was the row behind them, Steve met her eyes, his face full of panic and relief. "Help… him," he choked out, thick muscles in his neck flexing as he tried to keep the metal fist from crushing his windpipe.

"James?" She called softly, trying to still her racing heart, trying to calm her nerves.

Nothing. He didn't blink, didn't turn his head, didn't acknowledge her.

She inhaled deep and exhaled through her nose, forcing her body to stop shaking, forcing her heart to slow. "Soldier?" Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, while the crowds cheered as the singer praised the home of the free and the brave.

His metal fingers flexed a bit, body loosening enough for Steve to suck in a breath as his cold stare turned to meet her tearful eyes. "That's enough, Soldier." Her voice shook, try as she might to steady it, but he heard her, and just as suddenly as he was squeezing, his hand was releasing and Steve was settling back on the ground, rubbing his throat as he picked up their jackets.

"We have to get out of here, Ella," Steve yelled, moving to grab her arm.

The Soldier snarled, metal fist clamping like a vice down on the forearm connected to the hand that had brushed her wrist. "No, Soldier," she whispered, trying to blink the tears free as she shook her head firmly. He growled and sneered with disgust as he threw Steve's arm away from him forcefully, before shifting his feet to stand directly in front of her, cold steely eyes glinting into her own.

She leaned towards him, one lonely tear rolling down her cheek, and swallowed down the rest of her sadness, the rest of her fear. "Come back to me now, Soldier," she whispered firmly, eyes boring into his.

She saw it flicker, just a bit. The conflict playing out over the mask of his face. A whisper of emotion, a hint of understanding.

"Come back to me now, James," she whispered again, eyes hopeful as she saw the gray and blue in his shift and meld and fight for dominance.

And with a tentative hand and a heart full of hope, she reached out towards him to lightly stroke his face, fingers ghosting over the five o'clock shadow that never quite went away. He shuddered, his entire body flexing and releasing as his arms came around her, lifting her over the row of seats to press her flush against him as his mouth came down to devour her own, lips sliding, tongue gliding as he held her tight. She kissed him with everything she had, pouring in all she had to give as she pressed her lips to his, teased his tongue with hers, winding her fingers of one had through his hair as the other continued to scratch against his cheek.

And when he pulled back, gasping for breath, there were tears in his eyes as he pressed his forehead tightly against hers.

Nat and Bruce joined Steve as he watched them with a stunned expression on his face at the end of the row. "She just kissed the Winter Soldier out of him, you guys," he mumbled in disbelief, rubbing the stiffness out of his neck.

"Who knew he just needed a little love?" Nat teased, elbowing Bruce with a wink as he blushed furiously.

He grunted, shifting his feet as he put his ball cap back on. "Congratulations, you guys," he said wryly, nodding his head towards them as Steve and Nat turned to him with questioning gazes. "You just saw a lion kiss a deer."

And as the opening pitch was tossed out, Ella kissed away his tears, twining her fingers with his as she held him tight and promised never to let go.