Well, two updates in one day, consider this my way of apologising for such a long gap between updates.

As always, any places, persons or things Avengers related belongs to the Marvel Cinematic Universe. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

Chatper Seven- Burning Off Excess Energy (Bucky)

Bucky changed out of his suit and threw the garments into the laundry with more force than was necessary. He was angry. Annoyed. Furious. In fact, he was downright pissed off, and he had every reason to be. What in god's name had they been thinking? He should never have gone with them.

He had hoped for longer, for more time, before HYDRA would come looking for him. But they had seen the lot of them together, and it showed that Stark was fighting alongside them. So now, the Tower wasn't much of a hiding place, and he was putting them all in danger just by being there.

Steve had tried to console him, but Bucky had shrugged him off, muttering that he didn't want to be coddled. What he wanted was to punch the living shit out of something. A smile crossed his face. He recalled Clint saying that the gym on the lower levels was huge, and had everything he would need should the need to decimate something come to mind. Though, decimate seemed like too polite a word, more annihilate.

With that in mind, Bucky pulled on some sweats, grabbed a towel and went down the elevator to the gym. Steve had a massive stash of punching bags, he remembered the super soldier saying so. It was exactly what he needed, to work his way through a few of those and calm down.

What he didn't need was to find Stark there, hitting at a bag all wrong. He winced in sympathy when a fist landed wrong, hearing the crack of bone from where he stood. On autopilot, Bucky went over and gently took the injured hand into his metal one, examining it for any breaks.

The hand was wrenched from his grasp, a cry of pain reaching his ears. Bucky wanted nothing more than to roll his eyes, and call Stark out on his childish behaviour. It was getting out of hand now, how many times did he have to apologise for something he'd had no control over?

FRIDAY? Oh, yes, the AI that often advised him on where the others were if he was looking for one of them, or avoiding one in particular. He should have asked to AI if Stark was here before coming down.

"Back off, Barnes. Go work out elsewhere," Stark muttered.

Bucky did roll his eyes then. Not like the gym wasn't big enough for the both of them, Christ is stretched the entire base of the Tower. But Bucky relented a little and let Stark have what he wanted. He moved to the other side of the gym and started out with some running. He set the treadmill at a furious pace, with an alternating incline/decline to put him through his paces.

He could see Stark on a weights machine, the genius quite clearly watching him while trying to not make it obvious. Bucky had to hide a smirk, lord knew that would be enough to make Stark froth at the mouth and accuse him of all sorts of fiendish things.

Stark claimed to hate him, and yet, his eyes always seemed to follow Bucky wherever he went. Stark no doubt even told himself that it was because he couldn't trust the soldier, tried to justify his actions. But the truth was, he was awed by the arm and he didn't want to admit it, and somewhere, deep in that big brain, Stark knew that Bucky wasn't to blame for the events of December sixteenth, nineteen ninety-one.

As soon as Stark made to move towards the treadmills, Bucky took off for the punching bag and really laid into it. The smack, smack, smack of his flesh fist against were soothing. Sure, he punched with his metal one, but purely for rhythm, no actual hitting was needed.

Hard, loud music poured from the speakers, adding to his rhythm as his fists swung. He wasn't normally one for such a high decibel of music, but at the moment, it fit what he needed and he kept on swinging, his flesh hand giving a satisfying smack against the material of the punching bag.

So he swung, and swung, and swung, taking all his anger and frustration out on the bag, each punch bringing another image to the forefront of his mind, making his anger course more violently, his ire at being treated like a killer burning through his veins.

He dimly registered the thundering of feet, his eyes glancing at Stark to see him trying to match the pace that he, Bucky, had been on. Bucky knew it would be impossible, he had serum coursing through him, he was trained to move quickly, silently, it all lead to him being able to kill efficiently.

Bucky shut down that line of thought immediately and his attention returned to Stark. Funnily, Stark was actually keeping pace…for a bit. Then his feet got confused, somewhere, and he tripped, his ankle twisting in a way it was not designed to.

Swearing loudly, the music shut off and FRIDAY came over the speakers. "Boss, I detect a sprain in your ankle. An ice pack would be advisable to reduce the chance of swelling."

Bucky heard the AI speak, and he stopped punching, going over to Stark and making sure he wasn't too badly injured. His offer to fetch an ice pack was rebuffed, rudely, he might add.

"Is this how it's always going to be?" Barnes demanded. "You constantly taking shots at me, snarking at me, and bullying Steve because he chose me over you? You're acting like a jealous lover, Stark. Is that the problem? Are you so up Steve's ass that you think you're in love with him?"

Bucky did not anticipate such a quick and violent reaction from the billionaire. He was aware that the injury to Stark's ankle was not a simple sprain, and yet, he spun around so quickly on it, it might of well of been perfectly fine.

But it was the spin around that gave Bucky the split second to prepare himself as Stark launched at him, the smaller body colliding with his own. Smaller, but with some serious muscle, he absently noticed.

He threw Stark away from him, his metal arm shifting the man as if he weighed nothing. The genius scrambled to his feet, went at him again. Bucky threw a punch that Stark managed to dodge, ducking under it with ease.

Bucky punched with his flesh arm, the knuckles connecting with Stark's face, just on his cheekbone, and it seemed to floor the mechanic, his eyes unfocused and unseeing for a moment. Bucky threw a second punch with the intention of knocking Stark out, but he dodged it, staggering away.

Their blows went back and forth, and Bucky found himself grudgingly respecting Stark a little. He was holding his own against a highly trained assassin, even if that wasn't really him anymore. But the moves were still there, the skills, the sixth sense when it came to blocking a blow.

It was that thought of Stark's ability to keep going that caused his lapse in judgement, and he was thrown on his back, legs kicked out from under him. A body straddled his, blows connecting with his face. Something flickered in Bucky's mind and he threw a punch…with his metal arm.

Bucky made to punch him again as Stark rolled off him, but he regained…control. It was in that moment of shock that he realised the Winter Soldier had been there, taking control of him. The blow he'd been about to deliver would have killed Stark in an instant.

"Murderer."

The word reached him and his pain at it was unreal. The surging guilt and horror at coming to the conclusion that everything HYDRA had put in him was still there. He was still the assassin as much as he was Bucky.

Tony coughed and spat blood, wriggled out from under Barnes and shakily climbed to his feet. "There my point is proven. The Winter Soldier is still inside you. The murderer is still there," he rasped. Bucky didn't even try to deny it- he knew it was true. A part of him latched onto the words, ones that didn't say he was the murderer, just that the killer was inside him.

It was inappropriate to be thinking of their feud, especially when he'd been about to put an end to Stark for good, but it was something to cling on to, something that was there to keep him anchored. He watched Stark hobble away, still filled with misery at the events of the evening.

It was some time before he moved from the gym, before he actually tried to seek Steve out to tell him what had happened. He needed to seriously rethink his place in the Tower, if the Winter Soldier was indeed still inside him, then he was a danger to everyone.

The fact that it hadn't taken the selected phrases to bring the Soldier out terrified him, it meant that he could appear at any moment. Had it been the anger in him? Or maybe just the fact Stark had a knack for pissing him off? What the hell could have triggered such a violent reaction in him?

When he did find Steve, the super soldier was pale, angry, and his face was like stone. Uh oh. That did not bode well.

"You wanna tell my why we found Tony unconscious in his bedroom?" Steve asked coldly. "And near death."

So there you have it! Two updates in one day! Aren't I just amazing? ;) hopefully I'm back on track with this and we can see more updates soon. But as always, I will ask for patience if there isn't. I write when I can, and sometimes that means I have to go several days before I can even get the chance to.