Title: Gold Rush

Pairing: CaptainAmerica-WinterSoldier-FemaleOC (poly)

First language isn't English, so please point out spelling or grammer mistakes. Be specific when pointing them out so I can correct them.

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Chapter 9 is going to be long! I find it easier to finish chapters that aren't to long, so I keep cutting chapter 9 into multiple parts to keep myself motivated to finish more chapters and upload them.


Chapter 9 part 4

The last time I rode a motorcycle was when I was at university. Michael was driving, but the man has serious road rage and I swore to never let him drive me anywhere ever again. The Captain was nothing like Michael and drove us calmly downtown. Apparently the Sergeant drove here on it last night. I felt perfectly safe behind him, with my arms around his waist. Frankly I wouldn't have mind driving around for hours like this. When we stopped at traffic lights or past somewhere he had been before with the Sergeant or Sam, he would tell me about it. Apparently there lived a woman in this town that Sam had always had a huge crush on. The Captain met her when they went to the docks and Sam got all flustered. He was not amused when the Sergeant turned his charm on and made the woman blush.

"Well can you blame her? He can be rather charming…when he's not being a jerk," I yelled hoping he could hear me threw his helmet. The man laughed at my use of the man's nickname: "Yeah, I guess he can be charming when he wants to be."

The town wasn't big and most life seemed to happen outdoors. There were street vendors on every corner and there was a fish market at the docks. Sarah asked us to do some shopping there for tonight before we head back to the house for lunch. Sarah was Sam's younger sister, but they were close in age. She had a no-nonsense attitude and wasn't all that impressed by the people staying at her house, not even Wanda impressed her. She would run after the woman with a dishtowel whenever she used her powers indoors. And apparently that happened quite a lot because her sons liked pulling pranks on their uncle with her.

"How old are your boy's?" I asked the woman while the Captain was getting his motorcycle out of the garage. From what I gathered from the others, Sarah's life wasn't easy and she worked hard to maintain the family business, raise her sons as a single parent and try to renovate her house.

"Cass is 11 and AJ will be 10 next month," she told me and signaled me to help her carry an old table to the back: "I'm going to try and fix it up. Sam say's I'm wasting my time with it, but it belonged to our parents, so I think it's worth saving."

"I hear you, most of my furniture is handy downs from my parents or friends that we fixed up. Even my bed is my mother's old twin bed from when she went to college," I said and remembered the first time she suggested I take the twin bed with me. It was very old fashioned and not really my style. I figured I would use it till I bought a new bed, but here we are, seven years later and I'm still sleeping in it.

"I like buying old furniture in the thrift shop downtown. Sam thinks that the table in the den is new but it's actually one I fixed up during the blip," Sarah told me and I looked at the table she mentioned. It was old fashioned with many detailed ornaments, so it couldn't have been easy to fix that up and must have taken her hours. The woman seemed to be rather talented at fixing things up.

The Captain parked the motorcycle when we reached the docks and I got of the machine. I pulled the helmet from my head and my fingers combed away any helmet hair I might have gotten from it. Natasha had offered me her leather jacket for the ride, with a knowing look in her eyes: "Don't get it wrinkled."

"So Captain, where to? Because I am rather famished at the moment," I said and he directed us to the end of the docks. Sarah told him there would be a dinner with a very good breakfast menu. As we walked towards it, I noticed the man didn't offer me his arm or took hold of my hand. In fact, he kept his distance a little bit.

The restaurant was bursting with energy. Everyone seemed to know each other and there was so much noise from all the talking and occasional shouting towards the bar for a refill. There was a jukebox standing in the middle of the room and someone had chosen a jazz song that I didn't recognize. The barman recognized the Captain and waved us over: "Hey Sarah called us earlier, asked to keep you a table free in the back."

The man thanked the man politely and ordered us drinks. I was flattered he remembered that I preferred hot chocolate over coffee.

"Here's the menu and I'll be with you guys in a few minutes to take the rest of your order," the man said with a big smile. I felt the Captains hand in my back as he gently ushered me to the table the man was talking about. It was all the way in the back and had a reserved sign on it. Most people were sitting up front and near the bar, so it was quitter in the back.

"Have you been here before?" I asked the man as I took of Natasha's jacket and hung it over my chair. I had almost expected him to pull out my chair for me, but I was pleased he didn't. I didn't mind chivalry but to much is to much if you ask me. The man rolled up his sleeves as he sat down: "Bucky does actually, whenever he stays with Sam."

"Does he stay here often?" I asked and let my eyes go over the menu. Damn, they have lot. Sarah wasn't kidding when she recommended this place. My stomach started making noises while I tried to figure out what I wanted to eat.

"Whenever the city gets too loud. He goes to Wakanda a lot too to get away from the concrete jungle," the Captain told me and I could understand that. I preferred my place with Kai and Yuri over my current apartment. The location wasn't really convenient, because the house was surrounded by a lake, forest and fields, but it was private: "I hear that. It get's rather noisy in New York."

"Do you like living in the city?" the Captain asked and I felt his leg touch mine as he tried to get comfortable on his chair, but I doubt his seize would allow it. I saw the barman coming our way with our drinks, so I made room for him on the table.

"I do, for now," I said and thanked the barman as he placed my hot chocolate in front of me.

"Have you picked something to start your breakfast with?" the man asked and wrote down as we ordered. When the Captain was done, the barman asked the Captain if he would like his portions to be like the Sergeants. We both looked confused at him and he just shrugged: "It wouldn't be the first time I would have to sent someone out to buy food because he ate everything."

I held up my hand to laugh behind while the Captain looked flabbergasted and then shamefully admitted he was really hungry: "Yeah, you might want to bring me extra's with every dish."

"You eat that much?" I asked surprised while the barman left us. He explained that the serum made his metabolism worked much faster than a normal person, so he eats huge portions and is quicker hungry again.

"Stop complaining because all I hear is you basically don't even need to work out to stay in shape because your metabolism will take care of it," I rolled my eyes and made him laugh: "Not quite, but I'm always stuck with extra energy I need to get rid of."

"Is that why you hit the gym so much?"

"Yeah, I need to hit the gym at least once a day to get rid of the extra energy when I'm off duty," he explained and I couldn't imagine having to work out that much. I would like to work out more, not to lose weight, but just to be healthier. But my work doesn't leave much energy at the end of the day to do much. The only thing I do is go running every now and then: "Is it true you can't get drunk then?"

"Nope, one of the side effects of the serum. Alcohol burns to quickly in my system," the Captain said as I sipped my drink. Damn I can't imagine not being able to get drunk. I got threw the worst nights of my life with that stuff and can't really imagine having done that without alcohol to be honest.

"But I hardly remember what it's like to be drunk, so I don't really know what I'm missing out on," he said and added sugar and milk to his coffee, before drinking from it.

"Well, it's probably for the best. Who would want to end up with a drunk Captain America in a bar fight? Seems hardly fair," I joked and he chuckled and brought the conversation back to what we were talking about earlier: "You said you like living in New York for now. Does that mean you don't plan on staying in the city?"

"Oh no, I don't see myself settling down there. But for now, it's good. What about you? I can't really picture you living in an apartment for the rest of your life," I asked and leaned closer over the table, with my elbows resting on the table.

"I thought I wanted to stay in the city because it's home, but it has changed so much over the years. I guess I stay there because I'm fooling myself," he confessed: "Maybe I'll find a nice house somewhere else one day. I just wouldn't know where to go now."

"I get that. I don't want to live in my apartment for the rest of my life either. But I'm not sure that moving to the suburbs would be enough. I think I would prefer to move to the country more. But it all depends on work and who you live with," I admitted and he noted: "Exactly, I'm sure Bucky would prefer to live somewhere more private, but it just makes more sense to stay nearby for now."

"So maybe someday you'll have the house with the white picket fence," I joked and he chuckled asking why everyone always makes it sounds like that is a bad thing.

"I don't know, it's probably because it's considered old fashioned. Don't tell me you also want a dog?" I asked and he grinned at me: "Of course and a whole army of mini soldiers running around creating chaos."

I was glad two waiters arrived, saving me from responding to what he said. They placed one plate in front of me with an eggs and bacon and a few buns and butter, while the Captain got pancakes. I eyed his stack thinking there is no way he could actually eat all of that. He didn't even seem fazed by the amount they brought him. I wasn't sure I wanted children after everything that happened. Even marrying again seemed daunting. I couldn't imagine it ever measuring up to my first family.

"Can I ask you something that's maybe a private matter?" the Captain asked me as we started eating. I was pleased he changed the subject: "Shoot."

"Bucky mentioned you grew up in foster care. Can I ask what happened?" his tone was very careful as he asked me that question. I looked baffled at him and blinked a few times. He took my response as a sign that he shouldn't have asked and wanted to apologize, but I stopped him before he could: "No, you don't have to apologize. It's just no one ever asks me about that. You took me by surprise, that's all."

"You sure you don't mind me asking?" the Captain asked unsure and I could tell he really felt bad for asking. I do feel uncomfortable talking about it, but for some reason I didn't want him thinking that he couldn't ask me about it. I guess I didn't mind if it was him asking.

"I've learned the subject makes others more uncomfortable than me to be honest, so no one ever really asks. Whenever it comes up, they avoid it or start talking about their own family in an attempt to offer me an escape or something," I admitted and was surprised by my confession. It did bug me sometimes that people tip toed around the subject, because it has made me so used to not talking about my brother and what happened: "I can't talk much about it, I was too young to remember and the foster care system is notorious for its crappy record holding."

"What do you mean?" he asked and slowly started eating again, which I was pleased to see: "I went into foster care not that long after the accident that killed my brother. I guess my father couldn't coup or something. Maybe he even died or committed suicide. I really don't know what happened."

"Your mother wasn't in the picture, right?"

"I'm not really sure, I don't remember there ever being a woman. My memories are very fractured of that time," I said and noticed the man's confused look, so I took a deep breath and continued explaining: "I don't remember things in a chronical order per say. It's very weird, but I saw a shrink at the time and he explained to me that I probably blocked out memories because of the trauma and as they started returning to me, I accepted them as they came in and never questioned if I remembered them in the right order."

"That sounds very complicated."

"It is actually, it's also very annoying because it makes me doubt my memories when they do come to me. Something might trigger a memory but I'll always be asking myself 'am I remembering this correctly'," I admitted and smeared some butter on one of my buns.

"Did you ever try and find out what happened?" he asked me and I picked up on the fact he was still being careful with asking his questions: "I never put much effort into it to be honest. The records were lost and I kind of took that as a warning to not go down that rabbit hole."

"Did you stay in foster care for the rest of your childhood?" he asked and started eating his fifth pancake. How is he eating this fast? I feel full just from seeing him eat. I drank from my hot chocolate before answer: "I found a good family when I was ten and they eventually adopted me when I was sixteen."

"Do they also live in New York?" he asked and I hesitated for a second before telling him they passed away three years ago. My parents didn't have siblings and I never met their parents, so it was a very small ceremony. I did but in effort to track down all the kids they took in and helped. Five of them came to the funeral. We never spoke again after that.

The Captain moved uncomfortably in his seat and avoided my eyes, feeling stupid for bringing up another sour subject. I grabbed his hand and gently squeezed it: "Relax Captain, not everyone has a great story to tell. Doesn't mean you should feel bad for asking about it."

He smiled at me weakly, but noted none the less. As I pulled back, I changed the subject by asking about his time in the war and he was grateful for the change. He talked amicably about the friends he made and some of they're adventures. He seemed to be most proud of the time he saved the Sergeant by himself and ended up saving a few hundred prisoners. While he told me his stories his face lite up and I could tell he had a preference to that time. After we ordered again, I decided to point that out to him. He adverted his eyes for a second before explaining: "I honestly do, because my purpose was clear. I knew what to do and what was expected form me. These day's I constantly have to play by all these rules. Back in the day it was just easier."

"You mean like the Accords?" I asked, knowing he and my boss didn't see eye to eye on the matter. In fact, mister Stark gets a lot of shit thrown at him because he can't convince the Captain to sign, which is really unfair. He confessed that to me during one of his rages after another failed meeting. He ended damaging Dummy, which he felt extremely guilty over. He likes talking down to his robot's, but when he threw a hammer at the thing and it toppled over, he was so concerned over it. It made him forget about his rage though.

"Exactly, but let's not talk about that," he said in a polite tone. I can imagine he feels conflicted about the Accords. We continued talking about his time during the war. His life kind of sounds amazing and I wonder if any of the Howling Commando's are still alive? If they are still alive, they must be over a hundred years old. How can this man sitting across from me be that old and have such a story to tell? I practically hung at his lips as he told me about the Sergeant being the greatest snipper and about them ziplining over a ravine to land on top of a riding train to catch some bad guy.

"I don't know about you, but this chair is so uncomfortable, I could really use a walk," the Captain confessed after adjusting himself in his chair for the tenth time since we sat down. He was right, they weren't the greatest chairs. He paid for breakfast and the barman told us to come by whenever we were in town. As we walked along the docks, I let my hand slide into his and gently squeezed it. He stopped and looked surprised at our hands, so I waited for his reaction. His eyes met mine and the corners of his mouth turned up, making me smile automatically and squeeze his hands again.

"Look, they have a fair. Let's go check it out," I said and pulled the man with me, picking up our pace. There were a few arcades and we played some games. The Captain wasn't really good at them and he almost broke the punching machine. It started beeping after he punched it, so I grabbed his arm and made a run for it. I laughed as I pulled him into an alley to hide from curious eyes and to catch my breath.

"I told you it was a bad idea for me to punch that bag," the Captain told me with a know-it-all tone as I tried to stop myself from laughing. When the machine started beeping, he looked like a deer caught in headlights, absolutely no idea how to react.

"You could have punched it while holding back a little," I said chuckling because he was sending me a glare for getting him into trouble. I leaned my back against the wall of the alley, trying to catch my breath.

"What man holds back when punching something like that?" the Captain said and stepped closer to me. The alley wasn't very wide, but there was still no reason for him to be standing this close to me. I didn't mind though. I preferred it when he was this close to me. I'm guessing it was the crowds earlier that made him keep a distance.

"My friends actually always say they hold back, but it's to hide the fact they're punches aren't all that strong probably," I said and he leans his hands next to my head, looking down at me. His look was slightly intimidating, but I didn't mind it one bit.

"A real man doesn't have to come up with excuses," the Captain said smugly and I decided to not let him get away with it: "No he just uses a serum."

His smug look disappeared quickly, making me chuckle. He wanted to pull back, but I snuck my arms around his waist and he let one arm fall around my shoulders, pulling me into his side. His other hand ruffled my hair and I tried to pull back, but he didn't let me go: "You are a little bit of a jerk, you know that."

"And you are a little bit of a punk, so deal with it," I shot back at him and sent him a knowing smirk, making him blush in the process. I liked seeing the red tint on his cheeks and hearing his vice chuckle whenever I said something that made him blush.

"You are quite something else, aren't you?" he told me and gently placed his lips against my temple. My heart skipped a beat and I suddenly felt a happiness I hadn't felt in a very long time. I couldn't stop smiling as he pulled back and had to advert my eyes as his gaze was becoming too strong. I laid my other hand around his waist, taking hold of my other hand and tried to sound confident: "It's part of my charm."

He chuckled at my words and we walked back out of the alley. I wanted to pull back because we would be among the crowd again, but he didn't let me and kept me close to his side. Even when we had to let go to play a game, he would pull me back to him afterwards, making me blush every time. Something he noticed and I could tell it boasted his confidence.

We lost track of time and around noon we found ourselves watching a street performer playing guitar in a small amphitheater. It was built by the locals to give streets performers a stage and give the local theater group a place to perform their plays. The song the young man was playing was a cover, but I couldn't recognize the song. We were sitting on the steps, the Captain in front of me so I could lay my arms around his neck as he leaned into me, when his phone went off.

"Sarah is wondering what's taking so long?" I could hear the Sergeants voice coming through the phone. We could also hear other voices in the background: "Wanda also wants me to tell you that you have no excuses to bail on paintball this afternoon."

"Paintball?" the Captain asked confused and looked at me, while I rolled my eyes.

"Tell her to send me the address and what time do we have to be there?" I asked and tightened my arms around the Captains neck, knowing this would end soon. His eyes widening slightly as I laid my head on his shoulder and breathed in his scent. God, I love how innocent and decent this man is.

"We are heading out in twenty minutes. What's taking you guys so long anyway? I thought you said you were just going out for breakfast?" the Sergeant asked and the noises in the background disappeared. He must have left the room they were all in. Before the Captain could say anything, I answered: "There was a damsel in distress that needed saving."

"And is she alright now?" the Sergeant asked and I felt the Captain take hold of one of my hands, our fingers intertwining.

"The Captain's taking good care of her," I teased the Sergeant and could hear him chuckle on the other end of the line. I wonder what it would have been like if he had tagged along. Not that I mind this lovely moment of utter innocent intimacy, but I wonder what they would do if they were both here.

"Are you trying to make me jealous ma'am?" the Sergeant asked and the Captain handed me his phone: "Is it working Sergeant?"

"Extremely," the Sergeant said in a slow manner: "I'll have to get back at you when you get back at the house."

"Should have behaved better this morning. You could have been here with us," I teased him back and gasped as the Captain pulled me into his lap. He whispered in my ear and he could feel me shiver in his arms, what made him grin at me: "Maybe you should hang up?"

"Are you sure? He's your friend?" I asked him and could hear the Sergeant asking what the Captain had said. I tried to keep my voice even as I responded, but the lips gently kissing my neck were making that near impossible. The Sergeant seemed to catch on what the other man was doing: "Is he kissing your neck? Make sure he doesn't get to that stop right behind your ear that makes you shiver."

The Captain heard what his friend said and immediately found the spot he was talking about. He grinned at me as I shivered and asked how the Sergeant knew about that spot. What delicious game is this?

"Because you are both absolute scoundrels," I chuckled as the Captain found the sensitive spot again. We heard the voice of Wanda on the background shouting something to the Sergeant, but couldn't understand what it was.

"Ma'am do me a favor," the Sergeant asked me and I shivered as the Captain's lip kiss my jawline, slowly moving up, making my heart skip a beat every time he kissed me. Is this really happening? I could barely get my voice to ask what favor the Sergeant wanted, my stomach doing summersaults from all the gently touches that were turning me on.

"Don't let him kiss you," the Sergeant had a sort of authority in his voice that made me feel warm all over my body. Maybe seeing army men wasn't that bad?

"Is that an order Sergeant?" I asked but the Captain was quick to point out the man was in no position to give orders. He pulled his arms back and cupped my face, leaning in to kiss me, but with some last strength I managed to dodge his kiss and chuckled: "I'll do my best Sergeant, but he's being very persistent."

"I'll have to keep an eye on the punk then from now on," the Sergeant said and I could just picture him grinning as he said that. The Captain took his phone back and ended the call. A very playful grin was hanging on his lips and I'm not sure how I managed to not kiss him then and there as he spoke: "Do you always follow orders that well?"

"Not really, only when it suits me," I admitted with a seductive grin and he shook his head: "You are a real piece of work lady."

"Admit it Captain, you're liking the chase," I whispered in the man's ear, this time making him shiver: "Besides, so far I'd say your winning."

"I better be," the man told me with the same authority in his tone as the Sergeant had and kissed the top of my head. When he pulled back, he looked into my eyes and I knew I was not going to be able to keep this chase up much longer. He pulled back and turned around, eyeing his back. I grinned and slid my arms around his neck, glad for the physical contact to continue a little while longer. We made our way back to his motorcycle, his arms keeping me secure on his back without much trouble.