Chapter 34: The Fork in the Road
Natasha was waiting for them in the hangar when they returned to the Avenger's compound. "So, I saw the news. That was quite a speech. You quoted Walter Lippman. You realize almost no one knows who he is anymore, right?"
Steve smirked when he answered. "Now they have a reason to look him up. It's nice of you to greet us, Nat. Missed us, I take it?"
Bucky rolled his eyes. For crying out loud. "He knows."
"Knows what?" she asked innocently, eyes wide.
"About us."
"What about us?" She raised an eyebrow, and her lips twitched upward.
Oh, so she was in the mood to play. "That we're… I don't, what are we?"
"Friends?" she prompted.
He nodded slowly. "Yeah."
"With benefits?"
He scowled. "Okay."
"Going steady?"
"What? Wait…"
"Checking the oil?"
Now he was confused. "Huh?"
"Doing the horizontal mambo? Riding the flagpole? Doing the no pants dance?"
"Okay, okay, I got it." He ears grew hot, and Steve's face turned a shade pinker. Bucky shook his head and took a step closer to her. "So, are we?"
She cocked her head. "What?"
"Going steady?"
"No one says that, anymore."
"You just did. Stop evading the question."
She grinned and wrapped her arms around his waist. "The test drives were pretty nice. Might as well stake my claim before someone else does."
He squeezed her. "Yeah, because the women are knocking down doors for a ninety-eight-year-old former brainwashed assassin with a kill list longer than his metal arm."
"A very versatile metal arm," she said.
At Steve's choking sound, Bucky's face grew hotter, and he pushed away from her. "Stop it."
She trotted after him. "You should do research more often."
"Cut it out." He hurried outside toward the main building.
She ran after him. "Maybe we can ask Stark for additional modifications on that arm?"
He felt her swat at him and dodged her. "You're crass."
"What's that about my ass?" she asked, swatting again at his.
He laughed and broke into a light run as she chased him.
-0- -0- -0-
"Steve, you're with me. Let's go," Bucky said as he strolled into the lounge.
Steve looked up from the morning newspaper. Bucky was dressed in a thick jacket, scarf, and gloves.
Steve set the paper on the table and got to his feet. "Where are we going?"
With a smile, Buck waggled his eyebrows and slung an arm across Steve's shoulders. "To find the Christmas spirit."
Steve was delighted to see the familiar, cocky glint in Bucky's eyes. It'd been too long since he'd seen that look, and it was one he could never refuse.
Bucky drove, two months into his new driver's license. Thirty minutes later, they arrived at a large Christmas tree lot.
As they got out of the car, Steve looked over the hood at his friend. "You do realize Stark hires people to decorate for Christmas?"
"Bah humbug." Bucky grimaced. "I've been looking forward to celebrating Christmas since I got my memories back, and I'll be damned if I let hired help do it for me. It's officially December as of today, so it's Go Time. We're getting a tree, and we're decorating it, and we're going to play sappy sweet music and drink eggnog and fill up on those ridiculously decorated cookies, got it?"
Steve raised his hands and chuckled. "Got it."
Christmas tree shopping involved Steve following Bucky around pointing out perfectly lovely trees, only to have Bucky reject them for seemingly nonsensical reasons—not tall enough, too tall, too pokey, too soft, too full, not full enough, too perfect, doesn't smell right….
Now that the roof of the sedan was loaded with the tree, the backseat was filled with surprisingly expensive Christmas cheer, and their stomachs were full of hot chocolate and marshmallows, they were on their way back to the complex.
-0- -0- -0-
Later that evening, in response to Steve's text invite, the others trickled into the lounge. Bucky was in the kitchen mixing the eggnog and pouring the concoction into individual glasses ready for the taking. He dashed sprinkles on top of each one while 'I'll be home for Christmas' played on the overhead speakers.
Steve leaned on the counter and grabbed a cookie, a smirk on his lips and amusement in his eyes. "You're really taking this seriously."
"Wow." Sam arrived, stopping in the doorway, his eyes rivetted on the undecorated tree near the staircase. "That's, um…interesting."
Bucky shot him a glare that dared him to continue.
"I'd tread carefully there, if I were you, Sam," Steve warned.
Sam shook his head. "Hey, I said interesting. Not…bad."
Bucky eyed the tree. He knew it wasn't the most obvious choice, but with its slightly crooked top and sparse needles about a third of the way up its base, it spoke to him.
"It's not perfect, but something happened right around there," he pointed to the gap in greenery. "It survived and flourished, and I think it deserves a chance to shine."
"It survived and flourished until someone cut it down," Sam retorted.
Damnit. The man has a point. Bucky threw him a glare. "Do you want some goddamned eggnog, or not?"
With a grin, Sam sauntered to the counter and grabbed a cup. "Don't mind if I do." He grabbed a cookie, too.
"Well, that's something." Natasha entered and immediately went for the alcohol as her eyes lingered on the tree.
"What the hell have you done, Barnes?" Tony was next, and Pepper veered away from him to snag a glass and a cookie. "Lemme guess…. You cut that thing down yourself, and it put up a fight?" Tony asked.
Wanda and Vision arrived. Both had the good sense not to comment on the tree.
"I guess we're doing a Charlie Brown Christmas tree, super soldier style," Sam remarked, taking a sip of his drink. "Huge, but a little rough around the edges."
"I don't know what that means," Bucky replied, pointing to the bags and boxes near the tree, "but there are lights and ornaments over there, and that tree isn't going to decorate itself."
Tony waved his hand over the tree and accompaniments. "You bought all this?"
"Yep."
"I usually hire people, and this—" he swept an arm toward the tree, "is why."
"So, I've been told, but I'm not outsourcing the first Christmas I get to celebrate since 1943."
"What about 44?" Sam asked.
"We were planning the mission to capture Zola. It wasn't much of a celebration," Steve said.
"We drank, ate a special meal, and opened presents from home," Bucky added. "It was cold, wet, and miserable. A week later, I fell off the train." His gaze swept the group. "So, we're celebrating right, and we're going to decorate the hell out of that tree, listen to Christmas music, and ingest a shitload of empty calories."
"All right," Steve said, clapping his hands once. "Avengers…decorate!"
That earned groans, but everyone wandered to the bags and boxes near the tree and began rifling through.
Sam unboxed a string of lights, while Natasha and Wanda took the covers off the ornament boxes and got the hooks ready.
"Start from the bottom and work your way up," Sam said.
"I know how to decorate a tree," Steve replied as he grabbed the string of lights and helped Sam wrap it around the seven-foot-tall tree.
An hour later, they finished, and Bucky admired the glowing star at the top. The tree was a kaleidoscope of colors, with big, flashing, colored bulbs and ornaments of various sizes, shapes, and colors.
"So, no theme here?" Tony said, a fourth glass of eggnog in hand and his words slightly slurred as stood back to get a good look at the tree. "Or is chaos the theme?"
Nat chuckled, downing the rest of her drink and leaning against the arm of the couch. "It's a fun tree, much better than some white-silver thing."
Bing Crosby's Winter Wonderland came on.
Natasha pushed off the arm of the couch and veered toward Bucky. "So, Sergeant, you still remember how to dance… right?"
Bucky eyed her. Her pupils were slightly dilated and her cheeks rosy, but she seemed steady on her feet. He assumed she had plenty of practice holding her liquor in her line of work.
He grinned and extended his hand. "I guess we'll find out."
"Oh, you do." She took his hand, "Trust me. Personal experience, remember?"
He pulled her toward him. "So you said."
"Hey, are you two flirting?" Tony asked.
Natasha looked back at Stark. "Oh, we're way past flirting."
"Wait." Tony looked at Pepper. "When did this happen? Did you know about this?"
Bucky spun Natasha around to the gentle rhythm. "So, Natasha, have you been naughty or nice this year?" He raised his eyebrows at her as they swayed to the song.
She winked at him. "A bit of both."
They danced for another minute, until the song ended, then Bucky pulled away and gave her a bow. "Thank you for giving me my first real dance since 1943." He only half counted the dance with Becca—that was mostly swaying with her on his feet.
"Are you serious?" Sam said. "Holy hell, we've got to make a list of things you need to do."
Pepper and Natasha locked eyes briefly, then Pepper whispered something in Tony's ear, and Tony straightened, a combination of surprise and excitement in his eyes. "Ah, gotta go, everyone. Don't wait up!"
He and Pepper made a hasty exit. Bucky saw the wistful look in Steve's eyes and knew he was thinking of Peggy.
"Hey, buddy." Bucky gave him a slap on the shoulder. "Did you ever learn to dance?"
"Unfortunately…no," Steve admitted, looking uncomfortable. "Not really, anyway."
"Well, that ends now." Bucky gave him another slap, this time on the back. "Consider it my early Christmas present."
Steve eyed the others uncomfortably. "Uh, that's okay, Buck."
"Loosen up, Steve. Besides, you have no excuse now. In Brooklyn, you had two left feet and asthma. Not anymore. Remember, we went toe-to-toe, and I got first-hand experience with that quick footwork of yours." Bucky glanced up at the ceiling. "FRIDAY, play Chattanooga Choo Choo."
As the music started to play, Bucky faced Steve. "Now, I've showed you this about ten times before…"
"I know, I know." Steve threw his hands up. "Rock back, step, bounce, step, bounce."
"Well, then…" Bucky demonstrated. "Let's see you do it."
Steve sighed and went through the footwork as the song played.
Bucky clapped. "See?"
"It's dancing with a partner that screws me up," Steve said.
"Okay, so, we can do this. I'll lead…"
"But I'm going to be leading if I'm dancing."
"Says who, Rogers?" Natasha asked. "Besides, hardly anyone knows swing, anymore. You should both consider updating your dance moves."
Bucky shook his head. He'd seen what passed for dancing these days. "I've watched TV and whenever there's a scene of people dancing at a club, it just looks like everyone's having seizures. I don't get it. Anyone can fling their bodies around indiscriminately."
Sam chuckled. "We need to get you two educated. FRIDAY play Watch Me by Silentó."
"Oh God, really?" Natasha rolled her eyes.
The song began playing and Sam immediately went into the whip/nae nae moves.
Bucky watched, dismayed. "What the hell are you doing?"
'Ooh! Watch me! Watch me!" Sam sang along while Natasha dropped on the couch and covered her face. "Do the stanky leg! Do the stanky leg!"
Bucky shook his head. "You look like you just peed down your leg, and you're trying to shake it off."
Wanda burst out laughing.
"FRIDAY, stop!" Bucky commanded, and the room went quiet. "How are you supposed to dance with a partner using those moves?" He turned to Steve. "Don't listen to this guy. The classics never go out of style."
"I'd like to learn how to swing dance," Wanda said.
"Okay!" Bucky nodded approvingly. "See? She's the youngest, and she knows what's hip."
"Hip, huh?" Sam crossed his arms skeptically.
"Okay, Nat," he waved her over. "You know how to swing?"
"Of course. I have a broad range of skills," she said, walking up to him.
"Wanda, you wanna take Mr. Left Foot over there? Go easy on him." He took Natasha's hands. "FRIDAY, resume Chattanooga Choo Choo. Okay, Steve, if you're gonna lead…"
"Why does he get to lead?" Wanda said with a tilt of her head.
"Because I'm the Captain," Steve replied, cocking an eyebrow.
Wanda sighed and walked up to Steve. "Well, guess I can't argue with that."
"Watch me and follow. Rock back." Bucky stepped backward.
"Why do you get to lead?" Natasha asked.
"Which one of us has more practice swing dancing?" He shot back with a grin. "Are we gonna dance here or rehash the sexual revolution?"
"What do you know about the sexual revolution?" Natasha asked.
He scrunched his nose at her. "Shut up and dance with me, Romanoff."
"Someone's been listening to modern music, I see." Sam commented.
The music continued to play, and Bucky looked at Steve. "After tonight, you're gonna know how to dance, got it?"
"Aye, aye, Sarge." Steve gave a salute and took Wanda's hands.
"Lead with your left. Rock back," Bucky began, "then step forward and to the side and give a little bounce. Step to the other side, bounce… No, Wanda, you don't move forward into him. You're his mirror image. When he rocks back on his left, you rock back on your right."
By the end of the song, Steve and Wanda were swing dancing as enthusiastically as the guys and gals of the USO. Wanda even twirled, and their laughter filled the room.
It was nice seeing Steve loosen up around the other Avengers. Living with the people he worked with meant he was on all the time—an unsustainable situation, even for someone with as much gumption as Steve. Back on the front lines, it was the same, even when they were off base for some R&R. Steve was always setting the example. The Captain America mantle was a heavy one. Too heavy sometimes.
"Now I'm going to show you two how to twerk," Wanda said.
"Oh, I'm filming this." Sam pulled his phone from his back pocket.
As far as Bucky was concerned, camera phones were the worst development of the 21st century. "Put that phone away, Sam, or I'll break it."
"Geez, Ebegeezer," Sam muttered, but he pocketed the offending device.
-0- -0- -0-
Lagos, Nigeria.
"Sam, he's in an AFB, heading north," Steve barked, pushing himself to his feet, his ribs and neck aching from the blast and the fall.
Rumlow wasn't going to get away this time. He ran in pursuit. Natasha was already on the motorcycle.
"I've got four," Sam said. "They're splitting up."
"Going after the two on the left," Natasha said.
Steve spotted the discarded vest in the market. "They ditched their gear. It's a shell game now. One of them has the payload."
The crowds complicated the situation. He felt something hit his shield, saw a device attach to the metal—blinking, beeping—and tossed the shield in the air a second before the bomb exploded.
"Steve?" A concerned voice in his ear.
He didn't have time to answer before something slammed into him from behind, propelling him forward. Wood splintered as he crashed to the ground behind one of the tents.
"There you are, you son of a bitch. I've been waiting for this!"
Steve barely got to his feet before another punch sent him reeling backward.
"Drop it! Or I'll drop this," Steve heard in his ear.
The payload.
He heard a gunshot in the comm, the squishy thump of flesh, then a deep, familiar voice. "Payload secure. Steve, you okay?"
Steve was too busy blocking and giving punches to answer.
"Come on!" Rumlow yelled, delivering a punch with his mechanical arm that sent Steve into a wall.
Steve scrambled to his feet. They traded more blows, then Rumlow hissed, "This is for dropping a building on my face."
A blade popped out of his mechanical arm. Steve tilted, and the blade buried deep into the wall behind him.
They were at it again, until Steve had had enough and spun a roundhouse kick that sent Rumlow spiraling through the air. The man landed hard.
It was time to end this before civilians got hurt.
As Rumlow struggled to his knees and took off his helmet, Steve grabbed him and looked straight into the scarred, twisted flesh of his face.
Dear God.
Rumlow smiled angrily. "I think I look pretty good, all things considered."
Steve overcame his momentary stupor and shook his prisoner. "Who's your buyer?"
Rumlow smirked. "He cried out for you when they were working him over. Your pal, your buddy, your Bucky."
"What did you say?"
The image of Bucky in that chair flashed in his mind, bringing heat to his face. Even though he had his best friend back, every time he thought about the decades of torture Bucky went through, it stopped him cold.
Imagining Bucky remembering and calling out for him….It couldn't be possible…
"He remembered you after they took him out of cryo," Rumlow continued. "Begged for you to rescue him, until they fried his brain. I don't care how well he cleans up, he'll never be the same. I was there…."
The shield sailed through the air and smacked Rumlow sideways. Bucky landed in a crouch a second later, his metal arm lashing out to grab a detonator at the fallen man's side.
"No, you weren't, asshole." With a shake of his head, Bucky looked up at Steve, the detonator in his palm. "Don't let his bullshit get to you, man. He wasn't there the last time they revived me."
Steve's stomach sank as he stared at the device. "I should've clocked that." He let Rumlow distract him. "If he'd set off a bomb here…."
Bucky slapped Steve's arm. "Good thing you have me watching your back, just like old times."
THE END
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Can you believe we've gotten to the end of this massive story? For those of you wondering about Thanos, it was never my intention to dive into the battle. This is a story of Bucky's recovery in an alternate timeline (a "What if?" scenario). However, I've laid out the bones of the Avengers' plans, and I envision them succeeding. I leave the rest to your imagination for now.
As always, I love comments (praise, criticisms, typos, oops, whatever you like). I have a thick skin and delight in hearing your reactions and thoughts, so if you're inclined, drop a comment and let me know you made it to the end!
I may do little "slice of life" bits in this universe-scenes I didn't include due to pacing and length-but that's very iffy. They'll likely be posted on Archive of our Own, if so. (Just search for the title of this story to find my works)
