Chapter Thirteen

As hyped as I had been when the movies started, Bucky matched my ferocity by the end of them. As the credits rolled, I peered over at him; he was leaning forward on the couch, his forearms resting on his thighs, his hands steepled beneath his chin, "That… was the most amazing thing I've ever seen in my life."

"I know."

"I mean, the actors were perfect," he looked up at me, his eyes wide and his mouth agape, "Gandalf, Aragorn, Sam. Everybody."

"I told you."

"And all the orcs," his brow pitched upward in astonishment, "that was all makeup?"

"Mostly."

"And they used miniatures?"

"Isn't it great?"

"And Aragorn really broke his toe?"

Okay, I hadn't been able to keep silent through half of the films, but he hadn't minded. I was a wealth of trivia and useless knowledge, and, if it bothered him, he didn't complain. Every time I would pipe up, he had grinned, paused the movie, and allowed me to rant, devouring the entire dish of Jell-O salad, minus a smidge for myself.

"God!" he leaned back, running his hands through his hair and staring at the ceiling in awe, "that was incredible! I didn't know they could make movies like that now."

"That they can," I smirked, standing and stretching my arms high over my head before reaching down and popping my back, "ahh! Perfection."

Righting myself, I turned to Bucky, who diverted his gaze and began gathering candy wrappers, pizza boxes, and the popcorn tub from the coffee table. He stood, making his way to the kitchen and muttering about the trilogy's glory. Gathering up the bedding, I draped them over the couch, arranging the pillow at the end I had noticed he had preferred the night before. Fluffing it slightly, I patted it one last time and announced, "Alright, I'll see you in the morning."

He turned suddenly, masking his surprise a second too late, "Right. Okay."

"Night, Bucky," I grinned. He offered me a wave, "Night Aurelie."

/

I had barely laid down when the screaming began. Leaping from the bed, I dashed into the living room, dropping to the floor beside him. I didn't touch him; it seemed like an absurdly terrible idea after the night before.

"Bucky! Wake up, you have to wake up! You're having a nightmare, Bucky, please!"

When he flung upright, I was prepared, leaping easily over the coffee table and rolling a safe distance away. He was breathing heavily, chest heaving and eyes searching wildly for the threat.

When they landed on me, before I could assure him that I wasn't his enemy, he queried in a small voice, "Aurelie?"

Relief flooded me and I rounded the table, kneeling beside him as he rested his forehead on his knees. Touching a hand to arm, slick with sweat, I held steady as he tensed briefly beneath me before relaxing. I brushed a few damp strands from his face and he turned, pressing his cheek against my palm. His eyes were still screwed shut, his brow furrowed low as he breathed, "There was this convoy. In the Middle East. A terrorist, America's most wanted kinda deal. HYDRA's most wanted, too, for the opposite reason. There were five Humvees; seven, eight guys in each. I didn't have to kill them all, but- they were in my way."

Maneuvering myself behind him, I rested against the arm of the couch, my legs on either side of him. Pulling him to me, I wrapped my arms around him, allowing him to lean against me and resting my head against his back.

"I found the target, brought him in," he continued distractedly, dropping his chin to his chest, "I-they funded him, gave him supplies, and set him loose. He killed hundreds of people. Because I got him out."

Resting my chin on his shoulder, I hugged him to me, my knees gently pressing into his legs. He tucked himself tighter against my chest; dropping his head back against my shoulder. My nightgown rode high, but he didn't seem to notice the apex of my thighs pressed against his clothed waist, something for which I couldn't be more grateful.

"Do you ever really sleep?"

He shook his head and I sighed softly, tilting my head until it rested against his. His breathing eventually calmed, his skin cooling, the sweat dissipating, the tears drying. Leaning fractionally to the side, I saw his eyes closed, his jaw finally unclenched; carefully, I reached for the blanket, tugging it up to cover Bucky.

He was doing a fine job as my own blanket.

Shifting, I attempted to slip out from under him, but his vibranium hand curled around my calf, his head tilting, his chin resting against my temple.

My heart thudded and I sighed softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of his jaw and whispering, "Good night, Bucky."

/

Bucky inhaled deeply, burrowing his face into warm, soft, honey-scented - skin? His eyes snapped open and he stared at the smooth, pale expanse he was currently using as a pillow. Aurelie had yet to wake up, her head turned away from him, her hair tied in a loose bun atop her head. Her mouth was parted slightly in sleep, her cheeks tinged pink, probably from his warmth and weight atop her.

He starkly recalled her crawling behind him, holding him tightly after his nightmare. He must have fallen asleep on her and instead of leaving him to his dreams, she fell asleep behind him. And, during the early morning hours, they must have shifted, twisting so she was no longer propped up against the arm of the couch but stretched across the cushions, him draped across her like a blanket.

His head… resting just above her breasts.

His skin grew hot, his hooded, blue eyes shifting across her sleeping form to where one of the flimsy straps of her nightgown had decided to slip down her shoulder. That little thing was more tempting than it should have been and a thousand things he wanted to do because of it raced through his mind before he could stop it. He reached out a finger, a vibranium one, and hooked it around the thin, red ribbon, tugging it back up into place.

His breath left him in a jagged exhale and Aurelie shifted beneath him, an unintelligible noise escaping her. His jaw clenched and he knew he should have stood, should have run for the shower and stood beneath a very cold stream of water, but he couldn't bring himself to move.

He had slept. Really slept. He went hours - five, he noted, glancing at a massive, flowery clock on the wall - without waking. He couldn't remember the last time that had happened. Maybe before he had gone to war with Steve?

Decades, he snorted.

Because of her.

His hand moved before he thought about it, stretching up and hooking an errant chocolate curl that had escaped Aurelie's bun around his finger. He let it slide away, watching it in fascination as it went with a spring. Her hand moved and he froze; she swatted lazily at the air, her lips moving once more.

A slow grin drifted across his face and he propped himself up on his elbows, repeating the movement. The curl tickled her again and she swatted erratically, squirming beneath him again.

He bit his tongue at the sensual motion against his hips and he finally pulled himself away. Easing away from her, he used his years of silence and stealth to rise without her notice; when he was on his feet, he gathered the blanket up in his hands. He paused momentarily, his eyes blazing along her sleeping form and that damn, short, enticing nightgown. He grew rigid and warm, a tremor bolting through him. It was riding high on her pale, thick thighs and he hastily returned his attention to her face in case those lovely, golden eyes had caught his gawking. But she was still sound asleep, that strap making its way down her shoulder once more, and Bucky draped the blanket gently over her prone form.

Turning away, he marched for the bathroom, jaw clenching. One thing was for certain; whoever this Pietro was, he didn't blame him in the slightest for wanting Aurelie.

He didn't blame him, but he really didn't like it.

/

I woke, wrapped up like a burrito on the couch. Alone. Blinking away the last shreds of sleep, I searched momentarily for Bucky before hearing the shower down the hall. Stretching, I tossed the blanket away and made my way for my bedroom; I doubted Bucky would appreciate seeing me trudging around the apartment in nothing more than a silken, red nightie.

Retrieving my robe, I tugged it over my shoulders and gathered up my phone. Dread filled me as I opened my texts, searching for one in particular; there were a handful, Natasha, Steve, Tony - and Pietro. It was only one and the message was simple: I think we need to talk.

We did, but I didn't know what to say. That I just didn't want him the way he wanted me seemed so lackluster. It was true, and he would have to accept it, but it almost felt as though I was short-changing the Sokovian. I really didn't even give him a chance. Of course, it wasn't necessary that I do - I trusted myself enough to know that - but I simply… didn't want to start anything with him.

"Sorry."

Spinning, I felt as though I should've been apologizing, my mouth going dry. Bucky stood in the doorway of my room, looking much like a statue. A very wet, godlike statue with nothing more than a towel hung low around his waist. Digging my nails into my thighs, I stared, wide-eyed up at him, a jolt of desire hitting me like lightning.

"I left my clothes in here," he explained, ducking his head to shield his face from view with his dripping hair, his fingers clutching tightly at the towel's knot, "well, Steve's. I- thought you'd still be sleeping."

"It's alright," I nearly blurted, "it's fine. Really. Don't worry about it. Ah-," I moved, my legs feeling decidedly heavy as though they resisted leaving this fine specimen on his own, "I'll start breakfast this time, yeah?"

He didn't move from the threshold and, lean as he was, he took up far more of the doorway than he should have. I could feel the steam coming off of his hot skin as I turned toward him. He mimicked the move, making room for me to leave, but when I tore my gaze away from his tantalizing chest, I found his sharp, hooded eyes staring intently down at me.

Tipping my head toward the hallway with a jerky motion, I muttered hoarsely, "Breakfast."

He nodded and I slipped from the room, hastening down the hall before I could make a fool of myself and jump the guy.

Cursing under my breath, I hooked my Spotify up and cranked my '90s playlist. My hands shook slightly and I swallowed my heart, lodged as it was in my throat. Retrieving the proper ingredients for French toast, I ferociously began beating the eggs.

Christ.

No wonder Bucky Barnes had been the ladies' favorite in the forties. Even with the metal arm, he was sculpted like a Roman god, a form that I couldn't for the life of me dislodge from my mind. Couple that with soft, dark hair, piercing blue eyes, alluring pink lips…

I'm in trouble.

The sudden burst of the Imperial March cut through the Backstreet Boys song blaring through the speakers shook me from my thoughts - barely - and I reached for my phone.

Steve.

Pressing the phone to my ear, I couldn't even muster a greeting when he breathed, "Zemo's gone."

"Wait, what?" My heart plummeted, my stomach turning to lead, the bowl forgotten under my arm. "When? Do we have any idea what happened?"

"Tony's getting the details," he replied somberly, "we need to move. We're thinking-"

"He's going to Russia," I surmised, earning a hum of agreement. Tossing the bowl of eggs into the sink, I hastened for my room, "Fuck, okay lemme get dressed. Goddamnit, how'd he get out?!"

"Best we can tell is a few hours ago. Aurelie, it had to be an inside job."

"Oh, no doubt," I agreed, coming to an abrupt halt outside of my room. Knocking fervently, I called for Bucky, continuing with Steve, "The question is, who did it? Didn't Ross have someone on him at all times?"

Bucky opened the door almost immediately, fully dressed in jeans and a tight, blue tee. A frown marred his handsome face at my words. Pulling the phone away from my ear, I groaned, "Zemo got out. Here."

I shoved the phone at him, shooing him out of my room and darting for my closet. Yanking my clothes off, I slipped into a leather catsuit much like Natasha's. It was sleeveless, pitch black in color, with a high collar and golden accenting. Tony had given it to me a year or so back, but I had assured him that, since I wasn't an Avenger, I didn't need a costume.

But if the boot fit…

Stretching, I wished I would have broken it in a little more before donning it. The leather was tight, unforgiving, but maybe I could do some yoga poses on the way to Russia to loosen it a bit. Throwing on a pair of matching boots - Tony really had gone all out in the hopes of getting me to move into the Avengers Tower and join the team officially, I slipped out of the room. Bucky, who was still on the phone with Steve, had his back to me, and I made for the bathroom. Brushing my teeth as I went, I fixed my hair, straightened my glasses, and left the room.

My bedroom door was shut again and I made for the kitchen, allowing Bucky a few minutes to himself. He had to be on edge; Zemo had returned him to the Winter Soldier easily, and though we had the book in our possession, that didn't mean he didn't write the words down or remember them. If Bucky encountered him again, it was entirely possible that Zemo would trigger him into becoming the Winter Soldier once more.

And I refused to let that happen.

But not only would Bucky have to encounter Zemo again; he would be encountering men and women he hadn't seen in decades. People he used to work alongside, executing HYDRA's orders without question. And returning to the place that had turned him into a monster…

Hastily making coffee, I filled two travel mugs, turning and extending one to the soldier as he approached.

Oh Jesus.

It was like he was another person. Brows furrowed low over his hardened, blue eyes, his jaw clenched. He was dressed head to toe in black, fitted tactical gear, a jacket thrown over his shoulders to hide his arm. Adrenaline rolled off of him in waves, every muscle coiled, ready to go to war. It was a look that fit him perfectly, almost as perfectly as the casual jeans and tee. He took the cup, blue eyes drifting over my form and lighting up.

Shifting from one foot to the other, I defended, "It's my official look, I guess."

"No, it looks good," he replied, a half grin breaking through the solemnity briefly, "I like it."

"Thanks," I replied sheepishly, smiling and glancing at my phone, "they're en route to pick us up. Nat says fifteen minutes out. Wanna head up to the roof?"

"They're picking us up from here?"

"Tony's jets are equipped with stealth capabilities," I answered, turning to the hallway and lifting my glasses. I scoured the route to the rooftop and pulled a face. For some reason, there was more movement in the complex than usual and, not only was Bucky instantly recognizable from the news, my outfit would more than draw enough attention to the pair of us. "Here, come with me."

Guiding him toward my room once more, I hoisted the window, climbing outside onto the fire escape. He hesitated to follow, climbing out only when I assured him I would lock it and he could check for bugs when we got back.

Because we would be coming back.

I doubted Ross would be coming with us on this mission and if Steve and I stood strong against Tony, it was likely he would cave and allow me to bring Bucky back to my apartment when this whole mess was over and done with.

Though, if his name is cleared, he may not want to stay with me anymore, I climbed the fire escape quickly, Bucky hot on my heels, he could go anywhere he wanted with a cleared name and a pardon.

My phone rang, startling me out of my reverie and I drew it to my ear, "What's goin' on, Tone?"

"Is your buddy there?"

"Bucky's right-"

"Not that one," he interrupted hastily, "the little Spiderling."

"Why?" I queried, concerned, lifting my glasses from my face and looking down through the many floors down to Peter's apartment, praying that he wasn't doing anything that would scar me for life.

"We need as many people as we can for this one," Tony sighed, "if there are eleven soldiers just like your bionic boy toy over there- zip it, Speedy, I'm on the phone - as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted. If there are that many, we're gonna need him."

"He's just a kid, Tony, I don't wanna put him in that situation," I chewed on my lip, catching sight of Peter hurriedly preparing for school, "he's only fifteen."

"We'll have his back, GG, I promise," the Iron Man replied, "alright, scoot your boots, we're touchin' down in two."

"Ah, fuck," I tugged at my curls, pulling up Peter's contact in my phone, "Petey!" I didn't give him a moment to speak, "Get your ass to the rooftop now. We need Spider-Man. Yes, we as in the Avengers. Just- stop talking, Petey, and get up here."

Patting down my sides, I frowned, extending the phone finally to Bucky. Though apprehension still colored his face, he smirked at my frustration at my lack of pockets, accepting it and tucking it into one of his many cargo pockets. He caught my elbow gently, pulling me away from the center of the rooftop as the low hum of a Stark Industries exclusive filled the air.

"Aury!"

Bucky stiffened, spinning on a heel, but at my lack of concern, he raised himself from his automatic crouch, lowering his vibranium arm to his side. Peter was clambering up the fire escape, looking very much the graceless, gangly teen he was six months ago.

He skidded to a halt as he caught sight of the man beside me, his chocolate eyes widening in surprise. His jaw dropped, his eyes shifting from Bucky to me and back; his tone was soft, disbelieving, as he queried faintly, "Aury, is that-?"

The plane dropped its stealth cloaking almost as soon as it touched and Peter jumped nearly a foot in the air at its sudden appearance. He stared around him, aghast, and I bit my lip in trepidation, "This isn't a good idea. Petey, go back downstairs."

"What?!" he exclaimed, "no, no, no, you guys need me! Do you- do I need to detain him?"

Without warning, Peter's webbing shot out from his right wrist, latching onto Bucky's vibranium arm and yanking him forward. He hadn't expected the attack, so the soldier stumbled a step or two before his arm whirred loudly and hauled him back. Peter nearly hit the ground, but his senses kicked in and he caught himself.

"Peter Benjamin Parker I will kick your ass if you try that again," I seethed, marching toward him and grabbing his face between my hands. Forcing him to look at me, my voice softened and I assured him, "Bucky's not a threat. Trust me. But there are others like him, and they are. There are eleven of them, and they're gonna be so, so hard to stop. If you don't think you're ready, it's okay. We'll be alright."

"Aury, I can do this," his voice shook and he swallowed thickly, but his spine stiffened and he nodded resolutely, "but, I don't have a cool costume or anything, it's just like a-"

"No worries, kid, I got that all squared away. But do me a favor and get on the jet, alright?"

"T-Tony Stark," Christ, he's gonna faint before we get there. I wanted to slap my palm to my forehead but restrained myself. "Mr. Stark, sir, it's a pleasure to meet you. I-wow, I'm honored you thought about me-"

Tony, dressed down in a pair of jeans and a Black Sabbath tee, offered him a tight smile and jerked a thumb over his shoulder, "Yeah, no problem. There's a suit on board for you-"

Peter nearly swooned and I shoved him lightly toward the jet, pushing gently on his back whenever he attempted to pause. Tossing an exasperated glance over my shoulder, I turned, approaching Tony and folding my arms across my chest, "If anything happens to him, Tony, I will cut your balls off and shove them down your throat and then I'll cut your dick off and shove that down your throat."

Bucky dropped his head, shielding his face from sight with a curtain of dark, silky hair, but his grin was broad enough that I saw it regardless. Tony was nodding before I even spoke, his dark eyes knowing despite his disconcerted frown, "Got it, GG. We can discuss it on the plane; worst case, I'll just lock him up inside when we get there. I'd rather everything stays right where they belong."

"Prob'ly a good choice," Bucky muttered, stepping up beside me, "I honestly think she'd do it."

"Agreed," Tony shuddered before squaring his shoulders and offering a hand to the soldier, "Barnes."

The super soldier paused, his bright blue gaze flitting briefly to me before he accepted the billionaire's proffered palm. With a firm shake, he replied, "Stark."

"If you say you knew my dad I'm gonna barf," Tony huffed, clapping hastily and shooing us towards the jet, "andale, andale, time's a-waistin'."

Pressing a warm hand to the small of my back, Bucky and I made our way up the ramp, Tony hot on our heels; as soon as we were aboard, he called out for Nat to take off. Eyes drifting over the crowded hold, I was impressed with the crew we had to work with. Cap, of course, who immediately made his way for Bucky, Sam, the Maximoff twins, Clint, Vision, a man I recognized as Scott Lang, Rhodey, and the new king of Wakanda.

T'Challa's eyes were trained on Bucky, his jaw clenching and unclenching at a steady, probably uncomfortable pace, but he had yet to jump him. I appreciated that, and Sam, seated beside him, peered up at me over his head, offering me a subtle wink and nod. He would intervene if necessary.

Nodding slightly, I took Peter by the shoulders, gently guiding him into a seat. He was gawping at the heroes around him, and moved easily. He didn't even notice as I patted his cheek, his eyes trained on Tony as he approached the pair of us.

He draped an arm over my shoulder, pulling me away from the others and retrieving a case. He patted it and noted, "For the kid. I won't let anything happen to him, I swear."

"You might wanna come up with a good excuse for May," I mused dryly, "we're stealing her nephew and absconding with him to Russia."

"Excellent point," he tapped his chin, "I'll make a few calls. Put Happy on it." His dark, doe eyes drifted over me and he smirked devilishly, "I knew you'd look stunning in that."

Rolling my eyes to the ceiling in feigned exasperation, I grumbled, "You really do love playing up that rake status of yours, don't you?"

"You know I do," he teased, leaning down to my ear, eyes scanning the hill over my head, "I'm not the only one that noticed, though, GG. And I'm not talkin' about Usain Bolt over there, either. God, he's only been with you a couple days and he's giving you a good eye-fucking from-oof!"

He bent double, heaving, from my well-aimed elbow to the gut, earning a chorus of laughs from those who had seen it and once singular gasp from Petey.

Tony shot me a petulant frown, rubbing his sore abdomen and I glowered furiously up at him, "It's true! No need for physical violence in the face of hard evidence, GG, Jesus."

"Give Peter the suit and call Happy, Tony," I pursed my lips and made for the cockpit. Scott was starting funnily at Peter, before glancing up at me as I passed. He jumped to his feet, a broad, affable grin on his face, "Aurelie Reynolds? I'm Scott, Scott Lang. I'm-"

"Ant-Man," I finished for him, causing a goofy grin to cross his face. Excitement bubbled up and out of the guy, a giddy laugh escaping him, "Oh my God, you know who I am!"

"I make it a point to know all the supes in my city," I smirked, accepting his hand and allowing him to shake it furiously. Snorting, I tugged it gently away from him, earning an abashed smile from Scott. "Did you bring any of your little buddies or are you flying solo on this one?"

He seemed just as starstruck as Petey with the others, and it seemed almost silly to me that it was over me. He shook his head vehemently. "Nah, just me, but if there are any in this facility, I'm your guy."

"Awesome, cuz I really do wanna see that," I laughed, enjoying his excitement.

Moving on, I greeted my friends, asking Clint about his kids, offering Pietro what I hoped was a convincingly genuine smile even as my heart dropped to my stomach in apprehension. This conversation, whenever we had privacy enough for it anyway, was not going to be a pleasant one for either of us. His gaze was fervent, stormy with an obvious passion that had his sister wincing and shooting me an uncomfortable, apologetic frown.

If anyone knew of what the speedster had done, it was probably her.

Moving hastily on, I ignored his stare and nearly dove into the cockpit, dropping myself heavily into the co-pilot's seat beside Natasha. She shot me a tense smile, peering quickly over his shoulder and muttering softly, "He's still staring."

"I know," I sighed, staring out into the crystal clear sky around us and she let out an amused snort, "Not him."

Fighting the urge to turn and meet Bucky's penetrating stare, I bit my tongue and refused to answer. Now I knew how people felt when I used my Jedi mind tricks on them; it was as though he could see right into the very heart of me. And he wasn't even the one with the power to literally see through someone.

At my silence, Nat huffed, "Aury. You need to tell me everything. I'm dying here; aside from watching Wanda and Vision's super awkward flirting and Pietro moping over you, I have no entertainment at the compound."

"There's nothing to tell," I fidgeted in my seat, earning an entirely unconvinced glare from the redhead beside me, "Pietro kissed me and we haven't talked about it."

"How was it?" she inquired, a conspiratorial grin stretching across her lips.

"The man can kiss," I admitted in a low tone, turning strategically in my seat and lifting my glasses. Peering through the seat, through the steel of Tony's high-tech jet, I watched Pietro stare darkly at Bucky. The super soldier obviously felt his glower, his form stiff, his body shifted away from him but his gaze just so to keep him in his line of sight. But when he felt my stare, his bright blue eyes lifted. They met mine, though he couldn't actually see me; the corner of his mouth twitched upward, his tongue darting out to wet his upper lip in an innocent, unthinking manner.

Cursing, I righted myself and raked an anxious hand through my locks, tossing them up into a high ponytail. The action was innocent enough, he probably didn't even notice he had done it. A tick, nothing more.

And yet, simply the sight of his tongue sent my mind down a naughty path.

What that tongue do?

Nat shot me a prodding glance, and, though Bucky always seemed to sense my eyes on him, as far as I knew his hearing wasn't that good. Dropping my tone even further, I drew my lips into my mouth and informed her, "Somehow, Bucky knows when I'm using my power. I mean, I'm not doing anything to him, just looking, but… he knows."

She didn't say anything for a moment, eyes flitting across the controls above her, before noting lightly, "We were talking about Pietro."

"Yeeahh, but you-"

"I didn't ask about Barnes," she continued glibly, "I didn't even ask about what you were doing. It's weird, don't get me wrong; I know no one's ever noticed when you use your power on them, but," a smirk stretched across her face, brows high on her forehead, "I was asking about Pietro."

Licking my lips, I shrugged nonchalantly, "It was very good. The kiss."

"Very good."

"Very nice," I continued.

"Very nice?"

"He knows what he's doing," I winced at the hollowness of my tone.

"Aury, you sound like you're describing some crappy TV movie that you just barely made it through," she nearly burst, remembering at the last minute to lower her voice, eyes darting over her shoulder, "not a kiss from an incredibly attractive man who's head over heels in love with you!"

Pressing my knuckles to my mouth, I blinked wildly, floundering for a response. She was right, of course.

"And!" she continued in an excitable whisper, but before she could continue, we heard footfalls approaching and she shut her mouth quickly.

"Alright, Bucky has the coordinates," Steve announced, glancing between us, a deep furrow to his brow, his pouty lips tugged down in a frown. He provided them to Nat, who adjusted her course accordingly. "How long until we get there?"

"In this thing?" Nat responded calmly, as though we hadn't just been gossiping about my non-existent love life, "seven, eight hours. He's got a good lead on us, Steve. My guess is those soldiers are going to be awake by the time we get there."

"That's what I'm worried about," he sighed heavily, resting a gloved hand on the back of my chair, "Aurelie, we'll need your eyes before we hit the ground. I wanna know exactly what we're up against in there."

Tapping a finger to my forehead in a salute, I assured him, "You got it, Cap. I'll give ya the layout and everyone's positions as soon as it's in sight."

"I already gave him the layout."

I felt Natasha's gaze fall on me as Bucky appeared behind Steve, the pair's large frames making the cockpit feel woefully cramped. Lips pursed, I fought the urge to send her a seething glare, instead I nodded and shrugged cheerfully, "Well, one less thing for me to do."

The soldier shot me a tense, fleeting smile before staring out at the crystalline sky around us, "It's not gonna be easy."

"It never is," Nat replied tersely, the pair of former assassins sharing an uncomfortable glance, their shared history obviously not forgotten. Nat gave him a peace offering, though, with a placating smile, "But we're more than a match for them. All of us."

He nodded once, his eyes flitting to me once more before patting Steve on the shoulder and slipping from the cockpit. Steve smiled gratefully down at Natasha, "Thank you. I know that was hard for you."

"Well, it's not easy to forgive a guy who literally tried to murder you, but," she shrugged, "extenuating circumstances."

Steve nodded, peering down at me and noting, "And Aurelie? I think you need to talk to Pietro before he and Bucky go at it."

"Why-"

The sound of shouts and a scuffle interrupted my obviously naive question and I lunged from my seat, nearly tripping over Steve in an effort to get back to the hull. Natasha's tone was hostile as she shouted, "I swear to God I will do a barrel roll if you idiots don't knock it off!"

In the two seconds it took to make it back, Rhodey, Scott, and Tony - his Iron Man suit now ensconcing his jeans and tee - had a firm grip on Bucky while Clint, Sam, and T'Challa held Pietro at bay several feet away. The quickster struggled against them, his lip bloody, while Bucky remained stoic, stiff, a bruise already forming around his left eye.

"What the fuck?"

/

We're getting closer and closer to more Bucky/Aurelie and I cannot wait! Please drop a review and let me know what you think! Your reviews mean a lot to me!

Mariana Lestrange: omg yes! I'm so glad you agree! They're my absolute favorite movies in the world (no offense to the MCU of course ;) )

Guest: Thank you so much! I'm so glad you think so!

Guest: Thank you! I hope this was soon enough!