Bucky squeezed himself halfway through the back window, "Damn it. It won't go forward if you strip the gears!"

Alex ignored him, maybe not so purposely since his flailing arm was able to snag the collar of her jacket. But the scream of the old GMC's engine, zipping gunfire and the terrifying image of SUV headlights inches from their tail at 60 miles an hour were testing her field skills.

"This is not escaping. You've never done this before, have you?"

She shook her head "No" enthusiastically and took a sharp left. The turn did nothing for the almost healed stab wound or his kidney as he was thrown nearly over the bed wall; his foot caught the duffle bag just before it bounced into the street.

A sudden flash of blue lights just ahead put a whole new twist on their adventure. He grabbed at the opening again, "Go straight, go through them!"

"Do what!"

"Drive right for them! Do it!"

She floored the gas, scrunched her shoulders up and closed her eyes.

"Do not close your eyes!" He lunged through the window and grabbed for the steering wheel.

"Soldier, you're going to get shot in the ass this way. What happened to all those Winter Soldier skills?"

"Open them!" He screamed in her ear; mostly on purpose.

Her eyes popped open.

"Right down the middle!"

Alex threaded between the two police cars so close the truck would need a new paint job.

"This truck's gonna need a lot more than a paint job after tonight. Wilson's gonna be pissed. This is the second time you've wrecked the truck, and you know how much he hates you even when you're sleeping imagine what he's gonna have to say about..."

"Stop! Just fucking stop it!"

Alex hit the brakes hard.

Only Bucky wasn't talking to her.

"You ok Soldier? Who knew a man your size could actually fit through a window that small."

Bucky would have been really angry if he wasn't wrapped around the stick shift, his head jammed against the dashboard, one foot out the window; wondering if this was all just payback for being an asshole in general.

"Dodger? You ok? You said to stop. You ok?"

He was able to give her a thumbs up while he croaked out "Drive!"

The three Hydra SUVs fell away in the rearview mirror; blocked by the police, one of which pursued them but not with much enthusiasm.

"OK. Regroup up ahead there's a carwash. Go past it, then sharp right. Double back."

"How do you know that?"

"I was back there," he gestured with a flourish towards the tiny window he had just come through "Enjoying the scenery for the third fuc...third time."

"Third time?"

"Yes. Three times. You drove past the same spot three times. This is an escape. Not crop circles!"

"You know about crop circles?"

"Yes, I know about crop circles."

"Soldier. What are crop circles?"

He kept any further conversations with the Voice, private.

Bucky stood in the shadows near the overhead door at the carwash; an Uzi slung over his right shoulder, one pistol in the back of his pants, another one tucked in the front.

Alex sat on the tailgate nearby.

She took a breath preparing to speak.

A metal finger shot to within a millimeter of her lips.

It had been twenty-eight minutes. Twenty-nine minutes since they had sheltered there courtesy of Bucky's strength and skill at hiding. Although hiding wasn't his usual modus operandi.

"I think we're ok." He whispered when he instinctively knew it had been exactly thirty minutes.

"Great, now what."

"We sit. Quietly."

Bucky needed time to think. Not so much about what the next move was but to replay the last day that he could recall clearly. He wanted to understand why Steve left him alone sleeping naked, with the pink-haired junior spy sitting next to him. He was not happy.

"You're never happy. What's new about this?"

He again refrained from engaging verbally with the Voice in front of company.

"Where's Steve?"

"He went to the compound to talk to Sharon."

"Did he say anything before he left me sleeping, naked, cold, unprotected, vulnerable..."

"He said you'd say that."

"What else did he say."

"To tell you not to worry."

"That sounds like him. What else."

"That I should take you to Fury's compound."

"Really?"

"Yes. You'll be safe there with him."

"What else did he say?"

"Nothing else."

"Where's Romanova?"

"She went with him. Don't you want to know about Sam?"

"Sam who?"

"Sam Wilson."

Bucky shrugged. "Go get some rest. I gotta think."

"I'm not tired. I"ll keep watch with you."

"I work alone."

"I've got a job to do."

"Yup. You need to get in the truck and stay there."

He grabbed her by the collar and pushed her towards the cab. "I'll call you when and if I need you."

The text from Sharon was nowhere near as cryptic as their reconnection a few months earlier.

"You want to talk to me? You told my boss I'm Hydra and then run off with that piece of shit. Let's do this."

"Steve, this is not a good idea." Natasha actually hissed at him.

"What part of it? Meeting her? Leaving him behind? Lying to him? Going alone?"

"All of it."

"No matter what Fury has to say it all adds up. She has to be the one. Who else had access to the Widow, the mission plans."

"I don't disagree, but meeting on her turf?"

Sam chimed in "Actually it's Fury's turf at the compound unless you're thinking he's part of it."

Steve shook his head, "Every chance he gets he wants him at the compound to 'keep him safe.' I don't trust anyone at this point."

Natasha peeked in the bedroom, Bucky was on his belly, sprawl sleeping across the bed, he almost looked peaceful except for the faint twitch in the metal arm hanging off the edge.

She worked an eyebrow at how the sheet was strategically wrapped around his ass, just enough to technically be covered but leaving a clear invitation for Steve to come back to bed; to finish what they'd started.

The upstairs apartment at the clinic was small with thin walls; it had been an interesting night of keeping watch and listening to whatever it was they were doing to one another. She thought it would've been easier to listen to outright fucking, rough and loud than to overhear the soft moans, secretive words, and muffled gasps, it was all so provocative. Their embrace was clear in her mind's eye.

She pulled the door shut.

"He'll be wild when he wakes up and finds you gone; when he finds out you walked in there alone; left him behind. As far as the lying part; hard to lie to him if you don't say anything at all."

Steve let his anxiety show with pacing; window to door, door to stairs. He ran his hand through his hair, glanced at the bedroom door, once, then again. He didn't want to leave him behind but nothing in the past twenty-four hours led him to believe the compound was a safe place for Bucky.

Fury wasn't relieving Sharon of her duties; there was no clear answer about how the Widow had escaped and Fury had doubled down about the "He's compromised" bullshit once he found out they'd let her go.

But even Steve couldn't explain why the laser tracker that Bucky had clearly planted wasn't working; although he blamed Sharon. Fury insisted she had no access to block it.

Leaving his skeptical eye on Bucky alone.

He stood outside the bedroom, hand on the doorknob, replaying the argument from the day before.

"You saw me tag her. You were standing right there. You think I'm lying to you?"

"It's not registering. You, we, let her go. Fury's skeptical, more than skeptical. He wants you to come in."

"Come in? So he can throw me in a cell? Turn me over to who, the CIA, the Raft, Hydra?"

Steve tried to console him; rein him in from yet another panicked episode full of fear, blown pupils, and anxious pacing. "That's what he wants but that's not what we're doing."

But Bucky kept falling into fits of anxious raging followed by exhausted sleep; Steve always within reach, riding the waves of his emotions.

"Steve. Let him sleep. I'll stay here. You two go meet Sharon." Sam appeared just over his shoulder.

Steve reluctantly agreed "Tell him, tell him, we went there. Tell him not to follow me if I don't come back."

Bucky nestled himself under the air vents on the roof. He chased down his racing thoughts and surveyed the landscape with the night vision scope he'd found in the duffle.

His mind was roiling with anger, fear, panic; any and all of the above.

"What the fuck, Steve, you left me there, asleep, alone."

"You went to meet her without me. You picked Romanova, not me."

"Why? Why not tell me, wake me up. We could run together. Fuck them all."

"Soldier, he didn't want you with him."

Shoulders shifted to refocus his thoughts.

"Maybe we shouldn't trust the little girl."

A sigh, a deeper sigh, the quiet night air of fall cooled his heated reactions. The scope told him there was nothing moving of concern; no men anyway. He spotted a dog scrounging in the trash; two cats facing off in someone's backyard. He let his thoughts drift backward, floating back to a few hours earlier lying in bed with Steve.

,

"Buck, you asleep?" Steve whispered against the soft pulse of his neck, his face buried deep in the tangle of his hair. Bucky didn't answer; he wanted that moment to stay put; talking, even a murmur might break the connection. He just kept breathing, long, deep, slow sleep-like breaths not wanting anything to steal Steve away, even his own words.

He hadn't felt this kind of warmth in a lifetime, the press of Steve's body against his back; his fingers spread across his chest, the pad of one nearly brushed against his nipple, he willed it closer but didn't dare move to make it happen, afraid it would disappear like some pleasant hallucination.

He'd had this kind of dream before, only to wake surrounded by the frigid cold, alone.

Steve didn't seem to believe he was sleeping; he spooned in closer, thigh pressed to thigh. Bucky tried to not focus on their hips; the warm closeness of Steve hard against his buttocks; his own cock was half erect just from melting into Steve's body...only to get harder when the press of Steve's growing erection teased at his ass. He worked hard to ignore it all and let the moment just exist.

Steve had made another rule. "No sex." Bucky was perplexed. He whined, knowing completely what that would do to him but Steve was unmoved. Something about being equals, taking care of one another, going slow, blah, blah, blah.

"Slow? The cow is outta the barn, Steve, what was that in the elevator?"

"It was sex. Yes, it was great. It was. I want more."

"Great, let's do it."

"Not that kind of more. More of us."

Bucky had frowned, then whined one more time then "So cuddle? Is that it? Cuddle, seriously?"

"Well, I guess you'd call it that. I'll try to think of a better word but for now yes cuddle."

"We can at least be naked, right?"

"Yes, naked."

"Great." Bucky knew Steve had nerves of steel; laser focus and the willpower of a granite monument, but when it came to this; to himself, he felt certain he'd convince him the "no sex" rule was stupid.

So he rocked his hips back, softly brushing skin to skin; not demanding but gentle reminders of his nearness, asking for more with the slow-paced but insistent contact of his ass pressed into Steve. Heat spread up his spine, across his belly when Steve met his insistent touch with his own pushing response. Bucky breathed a gasp when he tugged him closer, harder, that finger finally connecting with his nipple; he slipped his foot between his legs, trying to make more flesh contact.

He was starting to understand what the "no sex" rule was about. This contact, slow, sensual, warm washed over him, filled his body with heat like he'd forgotten even existed. He imagined Steve was growing into his skin; becoming part of him, filling him in a way that sex had never done. This was what Steve meant, more, more of this.

Steve sat on the bike outside of Fury's compound. He'd asked Natasha to give him a few minutes alone. He needed to think. Think about Bucky. He hated himself for leaving but had no choice. Hated that he'd left Sam with wrangling Barnes again. But it was the only way to keep him safe. The whole thing was so damn fluid it was hard to know what the next right move would be.

But now, he wanted a few minutes to himself to think about Bucky; about what they had just a few hours earlier.

It was clear the "no sex" rule was going to be a bust. He couldn't resist him; at least it bought them a few hours of foreplay that was actually amazing. The way Bucky had slowly rocked back into Steve told him he wanted something greater than the flesh to flesh contact they'd been reveling in.

He'd listened to the steady deep cycle of his breathing, that sounded like sleep but not quite. Maybe near to that edge of drifting off; he knew Bucky wasn't asleep; the growing pull of his leg between his own, the way he rolled his back against his chest a counterpoint to their hips connecting. Steve wanted nothing more than to stay like this forever; wrapped around him, tangled legs and arms.

Steve breathed it all in. Deep, steady breaths that filled him with memories of art class and Brooklyn, aftershave and starched white shirts on Sunday. He was that skinny kid again, hugging the bigger boy in the dark pretending to sleep as he listened to Bucky touch himself, bringing himself to come. Steve so wanted to reach around him then, take hold of his hand, thread his fingers into his, help him, satisfy him. But the younger Steve never dared to take what he wanted; different times; he never dared to tell him how much he wanted to be the one undoing him.

Now he laid behind Bucky an arm wrapped tightly around his waist, a hand spread on his chest, bringing as much of their skin into contact as if they would melt into one another by the sheer heat of their body's touch. Every inch of him tucked in behind; breathing in his soul, his scent, clean, strong and as familiar as his own; more so. Steve rocked gently forward meeting his hips; letting the point of contact linger long enough to pull the faintest of moans from Bucky. He tucked his knees up closer, tugged his leg tighter so each measured thrust would lock him into the embrace; he wanted Bucky to feel this contact; feel how Steve would engulf him, become part of him, hold onto him forever. No doubts, no uncertainty.

He raked the stubble of his newly growing beard rough across Bucky's skin drawing a faint hiss that sent a twinge of blood to his cock.

"New look, Rogers?"

"Yeah, giving it a try."

"Not changing your look cuz of anything I told you, right?"

"Nah, just something different."

Bucky caught on right away. Steve couldn't shake the story of the handler that looked like him, the one that had used him.

"I don't want to remind you of him." Steve rasped against his throat as he pulled him closer, so Bucky could barely breath or move, driving out any hint of tension.

"Steve, you don't. Stop it, you're nothing like them." His metal hand reached back to pull at his hip, stroke his thigh, asking for more.

But Steve wanted to make this last. Wanted to wipe away all prior memories for him. He didn't miss his word choice "them" nearly confirming what he had started to suspect, it wasn't just one. He wouldn't ask any more questions; he would try to make this moment count to wipe away all the bad memories and fill him with good ones.

He nuzzled along the scars, careful, uncertain, he dared to let his lips brush the raised white and tortured skin, wishing his touch could erase all the angry marks, and the pain like the tide erases a word written in the sand. He used his tongue and hands to will the shoulder to heal and transform to flesh again leaving the tragedy lost in the past. Bucky's back tensed against his lips, nearly pulling away until Steve's hand rode up his chest, embraced his throat and pulled him in tighter, closer than even Steve thought was possible. Possessing him, holding him so all the brokenness could be forged back together with Steve as the bond.

"Does it hurt when I touch you here?" His hand rested firmly on the metal shoulder; he'd never touched his arm like this; softly, with care.

"No. Yes. I don't know." Bucky's breath caught.

"I don't want to hurt you but I want to touch you. Everywhere, every inch of you." Steve had pulled himself up to rest his chin on his head, to try and meet his eyes.

"Not pain, not like that. It's ugly, it's a weapon."

"It's part of you. Not who you are. I want to touch it, all of it, all of you."

Steve tugged at his head to bring him in; the faint light from the street lamp outside the window let him see his face; connect with those eyes telling him about all that guilt. He wanted to take that away, make him forget about the shame. He kissed him. Deep, languid, filling his mouth with his tongue, filling his emptiness.

He wanted to show Bucky he wasn't afraid of the scars; wasn't put off by them, that the arm, the scars outside and in, were part of both of them now.

"Will you do it?" Bucky's voice was hesitant, barely a whisper when he pulled from the kiss; his hips rocked back against Steve more insistently, the press of his ass, sent blood rushing between Steve's legs.

"Do what?" Steve's hand was hot against Bucky's abdomen, a finger barely brushed into the thick dark hair.

"This. Do this." Bucky led Steve's hand to his ass, even as they kept up the gentle rolling that had them both in that dream-like state that soft pleasure could produce.

"No, not now. Let's just stay like this."

"Put your finger there." Bucky's intense whisper nearly broke Steve's resolve. His mind was floating with the rhythmic closeness, the scent of his skin, the rough flesh pressed against his, he wanted to stay true to his promise to himself; to Bucky. No sex. He had been disturbed by Bucky's insistence on taking care of him, he wanted the next time to be different.

But the little gasps and moans that came from Bucky with every rolling movement between them were melting his determination. His hand followed his insistent fingers.

"Do it. Push inside me." The breathy whisper drew a moan from Steve as well.

"No. I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't hurt me if you do it right." His staggered breath sent waves of indecision through Steve's willpower. "I'll show you how."

Steve's cock was throbbing now, his resolve was melting away; he let Bucky lead his fingers to his rectum, his metal finger pressed against his flesh one, gently pushing it inside of him. Bucky's gasp of air shook Steve's core.

He'd fingered his hole in the elevator encounter but this was so much more intimate with Bucky helping him; showing him how to satisfy him.

"We need lube. I"ll hurt you." But he kept going, a single finger slipped past the tight muscle, withdrew then slipped in again. Bucky's fingers never letting his hand stray too far away.

"Lube?" He rasped between quiet moans drawn out by each excursion.

"Yeah, to make it easier for you." He hesitated, not wanting to follow the thought that Bucky didn't know about lube, that whatever they did to him didn't even include basic comfort.

Steve rolled away.

"Hey, come back here."

"Yeah, if we're doing this, then we're doing it right." Steve knew he'd never be able to hold to the "no sex" rule. He had the lube ready just in case.

"Buck, I need to ask you something."

"Why are we talking right now?"

"It's important. I need your permission."

"Yes."

"You don't know what I"m talking about."

"Yes I do and the answer is yes."

Bucky was warm despite the cold night air. He sat curled against the vents. His thoughts engulfed by the memory of Steve's touch; he closed his eyes and let the sensations take him.

He'd helped Steve's hand find it's way to his rectum, showed him how to delve deep inside of him, finding the right spot, how to put pressure there, to draw out the moans that made him bite at the back of his neck; grasping his hand over their heads.

"Two now. Steve, two fingers." His voice shook.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. It's OK. Have to stretch." He reached back again to squeeze two of his fingers together; press them to his ass; he lunged towards his mouth in a hungry kiss, as Steve's fingers found their way inside of him.

Their breathing deepened, ragged and gasping; Bucky pushed back hard against the stretch of his fingers; anxious to feel the pulse of Steve's cock inside of him.

"Deeper, three now, use three, push deeper." Bucky grabbed the mattress and drove his hips back onto Steve's fingers; his cock was wet with precum, he could feel Steve's wetness on his back, they were close; he was close, the ache of wanting Steve inside of him was hard to control.

"Steve, do it, fuck me, do it."

"I can't, I can't."

"Yes. You can. I want you inside of me." He pushed Steve backward; rolled towards him to straddle his hips. He settled down on him, writhing slowly, matching his breathing to Steve's, to the slow rhythmic movement of their cocks pressed together.

Bucky poured lube on his hand. "So this helps?"

"Yeah, Buck."

He wrapped his lube soaked hand around Steve's cock and stroked slowly, watching him. He wanted to see Steve's pulse flutter in his neck with each pull against his shaft; he squeezed tight then released bringing soft gasps of breath from his throat; he studied the line of his jaw, his cheekbones, memorizing this look right now, not the boy from years ago, not the Avenger, but Steve in the throes of Bucky's owning him, bringing him to orgasm.

This was everything he'd ever dreamed of but never dared believe would happen and he wanted this memory burned deep into his soul.

Bucky smirked as he drew a gasp with his fingers pressing hard against the tip of his cock; he squeezed again to pull an arched back; he stroked hard again and gasped himself when Steve sat up to catch his hair and tug him into a consuming kiss that dragged a soft moan from both of them.

"Stop playing with me, Barnes."

"Not playing, this is serious business, Rogers."

He rose up on his knees to bring the tip of Steve's cock to his ass.

They hovered there for a moment. The soft pressure of Steve pushing up gently sending shivers through his body. He closed his eyes.

"Look at me," Steve whispered.

Bucky shook his head but opened his eyes.

"Look at me. I want to watch you."

Bucky suddenly felt more vulnerable than he could ever remember.

Steve's hands brushed his hair back from his face; he dragged his thumbs across his cheeks, toyed with his lips, dropped to carefully wrap around his throat. "I want to watch you when we do this. See your eyes when I fill you when I make you come."

He panted through the panic at this kind of intimacy. It was Steve, he was safe, he wanted this. But to let him watch him, keep his eyes open, let Steve not just take him physically but own him.

Bucky hesitated.

"Buck? You ok?" Steve's hips pushed up, teasing his hole, each gentle thrust going a bit deeper. His mind was drifting away with the warmth; the pressure.

"Yeah, you own me, no matter what Rogers." He relaxed his hips, locked their eyes and helped Steve's cock slide into him.

It wasn't hard to watch those blue eyes, they led him through it all; captured his mind and soul.

Steve groaned "God, Buck." His hips pressed forward until skin met skin.

Bucky shivered but never broke the gaze; his breath deepened, sweat covered his back and hips.

"Fuck me." His voice broken and intense, it was a comment and a command. His fingers gripped Steve's shoulders to brace against the push of Steve's hips.

Steve did what he was told, driving deeper, watching Bucky's eyes, black pupils, his body shaking under the strain of Steve's cock going deeper until he brushed the spot that made Bucky gasp; his back arched and strained with each drive inward; his head fell back, breaking their gaze, Steve tugged at his hair and pulled his eyes back to his.

He pushed Bucky's knees wider, tugged at his hips and thrust in again, finding his prostate, drawing out a moan that sent a shudder through his body. He worked to find it again, thriving on making him come undone. The breathy sounds his efforts drew from him went straight to Steve's cock; throbbing his cum into Bucky; barely able to control the spasms chasing up his belly.

Bucky's vision went white when Steve found his prostate again and again. He'd felt this before, but now, with Steve. It was consuming. His hand met Steve's on his cock, but Steve pushed his hand away. "I want this."

He watched his hand stroke gently, caress him, pull the gasps and come, bringing him to orgasm without the pain, without the rudeness of the angry need he'd known before.

Bucky fell forward onto Steve's chest, mouths pressed together, hips slowly moving through the spasms; he wrapped his arms around his shoulders, tugged close, knees tight against his skin, he wanted to climb into his body. He belonged to Steve.

A car moving slowly past the building roused Bucky from his thoughts; he wiped at his eyes. Not crying; it was cold, making his eyes water. He'd tried calling Steve a dozen times but his phone was turned off. He remembered one of the last things the Voice had said

"Maybe we shouldn't trust that little girl."

"You think so, pal?"

He looked out at the night sky and asked one more question.

"Where are you Steve?"

Steve started walking towards the compound. A commlink in his ear. Natasha to his right, they had a semblance of a plan. Kick Sharon's ass was top of the list. Find the Widow second. Get out alive third. Steve had a very uneasy feeling about all of it. The clinic phone line was down, Sam wasn't answering and the girl with the pink hair was a Natasha wanna-be assigned by Fury to protect Bucky.

"What could go wrong?" Natasha shrugged.

"Everything."

He took one last look at the night sky.

"Where are you, Buck?"