Chapter Title: A Change of Position
Author: Sam
Story: The Omega Trials: 23 of ?
Series: The Omega Rights (part two)
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Setting: AU: November 5 to 6, 1943; London, England to Azzano, Italy
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Translations:
merde! Mère de Dieu! - Shit, Mother of God! - French
Cariad - Love - Welsh
Sergentul James Barnes, trei doi cinci cinci șapte zero, trei opt - Sergeant James Barnes, three two five five seven zero three eight - Romanian
Sierżant James Barnes, trzy dwa pięć pięć siedem zero trzy osiem - Sergeant James Barnes, three two five five seven zero three eight - Polish
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Setting: AU: Friday, November 5, 1943: London, England
The next morning, Steve found himself running a little early for his meeting with Howard Stark in a lower level of the SSI building. As he informed the WAC of his appointment, she smiled up at him. Folding a news-sheet neatly to reveal the story of his rescue of the prisoners in Italy, the pretty, pert blond woman stood.
"You're the hero who saved all those soldiers." She smiled.
Blushing heavily, Steve ducked his head and cleared his throat, "I wouldn't say hero, ma'am, the real heroes are the men that I helped get out."
"Well, their wives and girlfriends may have a different opinion, Captain." She pushed him on the shoulder towards the stacks of records. "On behalf of the women of America, let me thank you," she leaned in and kissed him, his alluring scent appearing to call to her.
Steve froze. No woman, other than his mother occasionally on the forehead, had ever kissed him! This woman's scent was quite alluring, but nothing like the scent of his husband, his Bucky. Just as he was about to push the blond woman away, he heard a loud throat clearing sound.
The scent of woodsy protection wafted over on the heels of anger and disgust. "Mr. Stark will see you now, if you aren't otherwise engaged, Captain." Peggy's voice washed over the pair coldly.
Pushing the blond woman away slightly so he could slink past her to follow Peggy, Steve felt horrified and ashamed. Would Peggy tell Bucky? The last thing Bucky needed to hear right now was that Steve had been kissing a nameless volunteer!
The volunteer slipped away as Peggy spun on her heel and began to stride away, frowning.
"That wasn't what it looked like, Peggy," Steve said hurriedly, eyes wide and nearly begging.
"It looked like you had no trouble finding partners," she continued to walk, turning a corner.
"Well, what about you and Stark? Aren't you two . . . fonduing?" Steve asked.
Whirling around, her eyes widening then narrowing, she growled, "you've got a lot to learn about loyalty, Captain." Pushing open the door, the brunette woman gave the blond man a glare and walked away.
Hanging his head in shame, Steve walked into the other room. He didn't know if he'd ever be able to explain himself to Peggy . . . and he feared that she'd tell his husband. Steve hadn't been flirting with the other woman at all, and he had been about to push her away! He didn't even return the kiss!
The short, black-haired man looked up at Steve's entrance and smiled. "Good morning, Captain."
"Good morning, Mr. Stark," Steve said with a small nod and smile.
"Oh, call me Howard. We've been heroes together." He offered a friendly smile and walked towards a table in the center of the room covered with armor and weapons of different descriptions.
Chuckling softly, Steve nodded, "alright, only if you call me Steve, none of that Captain business." The blond followed the small brunet towards the table, eying each and every piece of equipment on the table.
"And was that the dulcet tones of our dear Agent Carter I heard outside my door?" Howard chuckled. "What did you do to rile her up?"
Flushing again, Steve rubbed the back of his neck and laughed nervously, "uh . . . might've said something about the two of you - - fonduing? I think I'm a little mixed up on the meaning of the word."
"Fondue?" Howard chuckled and shook his head. "Fondue is nothing but bread and cheese, my friend."
"Really?" Steve blushed deeper and wished he could go back in time to change the last five minutes; starting with that very assertive blond woman.
"Well, I took liberty with some designs." Howard touched the first shield, the one belonging to the troupe, still indented with the imprint of Schmidt's fist. "I hear you're quite attached?"
Smiling, Steve nodded and looked at the options in front of him, none of them quite fitting what he had in mind, "comes in handy." Steve's eyes caught on a small, circular shield sitting half under the table. Grabbing it, Steve was shocked by how light it felt and the overall sturdiness of it. "What type of metal is this? Steel?"
"Vibranium. Stronger than anything and a third the weight." He smiled and moved to point out a different shield.
"Why is it not standard issue?" Steve asked as he tried it on, slipping his left arm through the holsters.
"Because that is the rarest metal known to man. What you are holding is all we have." Howard chuckled. "You have an eye for the best, Pal."
The small circular shield felt right on Steve's arm, almost as if the shield had been made for him; the weight and circumference were perfect and the blond thought he'd could easily use it as a projectile if the situation called for it.
With a steady click of her heels on the hard floor, Peggy entered Howard's domain.
Steve smiled sheepishly at Peggy and turned to fully face her; holding the shield a little higher he asked, "so, what do you think?"
Blinking once at the blond man and the small brunet next to him, Peggy glanced at the unremarkable silvery circle. Without warning, she drew her pistol and shot at Steve four times. Howard ducked as if he were the target.
The Captain ducked under the cover of the shield, the metal clanging loudly in his ears as the bullets hit the silver surface; after he was sure the brunette wouldn't fire any more shots, Steve peeked over the rim.
"Yes," she said in a clipped tone, giving nothing away. "That'll do nicely." The brunette woman holstered the pistol and added, "are you leaving it bright silver then?" Her voice sounded more disinterested than usual, obviously still angry on Bucky's behalf.
"I actually had some design thoughts . . ." Steve's blue eyes were wide with shock and he handed a list over to the inventor, not taking his eyes off the woman.
Without looking away from the terrifyingly accurate woman, Howard nodded and took the paper. "Whatever you want, pal." He sounded torn between impressed and sexually aroused.
When Steve left the R&D lab, Peggy stayed behind. The blond WAC at the admin desk wouldn't meet the Captain's eyes, pretending not to notice his passing until, as he almost got to the door, she softly said, "I apologize, Captain. I didn't see your ring on the other hand. I've never seen someone wear a wedding ring on the right."
Steve nodded once, a feeling of guilt in his chest, "it's okay. You're right, it is a bit strange."
Peggy rounded the corridor and breezed right past the pair of blondes, still looking disapproving. Her heels clicked on the floor in a steady tattoo as she walked.
Turning to look back at the brunette, Steve followed Peggy down the long hallway, "Peggy . . . "
"Captain Rogers," she stopped, turning to look at him directly, just in front of the exit doors.
"What you saw - - it wasn't like that," Steve's tone was pleading.
"Like what, Captain?" she sounded cool, distant and disapproving.
"She kissed me, I was just about to push her away when you showed up. I'd never do anything - -" Steve looked around before continuing, "I'd never hurt Bucky like that."
"Did you know that ninety percent of the time you are being followed by a man with a camera?" she asked, as if out of the blue.
"Uh . . ." Steve shook his head, "ninety?"
"Yes. He isn't here while you are on leave, but he will be following our team a great deal while we are on maneuvers. The American government wants to show off their . . . greatest achievement." She sighed. "When in a public, or even semi-private setting, you should really be more aware of your surroundings . . ." her voice dropped, "unlike Abraham."
The blond sighed and hung his head, "I will . . . I'm sorry you saw that, Peggy, really I am."
As if that were the end of the minor disagreement, Peggy turned towards the door. "Misunderstandings might be seen as deliberate . . . well, many women will want to be your . . ." she looked over, "partner, now, Steve. If you weren't already taken, I wouldn't be bothered in the slightest."
"I love Bucky," Steve said firmly, "that's who I want as my partner. No one else."
She nodded once. "Then be aware of that at all times or else you might be ambushed again." She shook her head. "Why is it that men never suspect a woman has designs until it's almost too late?" She pushed out the door. "The Colonel is mustering the men in the barracks to determine who is fit for duty, Captain. Those who don't pass will be shipped to another base for either retraining or recovery."
Nodding, Steve took a deep breath and stepped out into the open air, he began to make his way towards the rest of the men.
Once Steve got to the general muster area, he heard Colonel Phillips call out for the men to grab a gun and line up. An Army doctor stood on hand, the medic having stayed back at the Azzano base, watching the rescued prisoners who mustered despite still being on the three day pass they'd been granted. The doctor's eyes flickered over to Steve before settling on the line of men holding standard rifles, Bucky among them, looking pale but a little better rested since he'd had the sedative the night before.
Steve smiled softly at his husband; he'd left the brunet sleeping and was happy to see that the sedative hadn't been too strong. Bucky seemed to have gotten up on his own.
As the tall blond looked over to his husband, Bucky gave him a wink and his signature saucy grin, the sun glinting off the wedding ring still on his right hand, even after his imprisonment.
The blond grinned at his lover and then turned his attention towards Philips.
"Right, to the range, men." Phillips marched the men outside to a small temporary range, the doctor following with a list and a stack of forms on his clipboard. Steve was permitted to join them, though Phillips barked, "you won't be shooting, Rogers. Go stand by the doctor." The Colonel stared until the tall blond dropped back away from the firing line.
"Yes, sir," Steve muttered and then turned to listen to the direct order; standing next to the doctor, the blond watched as the other soldiers completed their tests.
The older officer turned back to the men and ran each one through a group of ten firing tests for marksmanship and reaction, the doctor recording accuracy, physical reaction to the weapon firing, and apparent overall emotional state. As the men, one by one, tried to qualify, Steve's hand picked team succeeded one by one, until only one remained: Bucky, third to last in the entire line-up. Three rescued soldiers were noted by the doctor as having an increased startle reflex, one ducking at the sound of the man before him firing. Another man wouldn't stop firing once he'd started. As each man finished, he reported to the doctor to be cleared, though the four with the non-standard reactions were put on stress watch and sent to check into the hospital for further evaluation.
Then came Bucky's turn.
Steve watched calmly, but on the inside he felt extremely worried for his lover. Would Bucky still be able to shoot? After all the terrors the brunet had seen . . . could he still fire a weapon?
The brunet put put on his ear protectors. Carefully lining up his shots, the too lean brunet fired off round after round, hitting every designated target directly in the kill zone. He didn't shake, didn't startle, and didn't become distracted even when the Colonel suddenly pulled his own revolver and fired it off over the Sergeant's shoulder.
Morita, the feisty Ranger from California, nodded, impressed. While all of Captain Rogers' hand-picked team were marksmen, the Sergeant had definitely proven the best shot . . . and possibly the calmest.
Suitably impressed, the British Major, Falsworth, nodded and looked grimly pleased.
Eyes widening in surprise, mouth forming a shocked 'O,' the small Frenchman, Dernier, whispered, "merde! Mère de Dieu!"
Both Gabe and Dum Dum watched Bucky with wide eyes, having not known how the Sergeant would react to the unexpected gunfire; however, after a few moments it became apparent that the brunet seemed fine . . . practically unfazed.
Steve's eyes never left his husband. He watched the impressive display of skill with a proud smile; he'd never actually seen Bucky fire a gun before.
Phillips finally nodded and told Bucky, "stand down, Sergeant. Unload and check your weapon. Next . . ." and the higher ranking officer moved on to another returned soldier.
The doctor actually looked impressed. He nodded and called Bucky to him, who removed his ear protectors. As the brunet emptied, checked, and returned his rifle, the doctor murmured to Steve, "as the Sergeant's immediate commanding officer, you are welcome to stay for his evaluation."
Steve nodded and tried not to think about being Bucky's commanding officer . . . the notion seemed off . . . bizarre even. "I'll stay."
Bucky stepped in front of the pair of men. "Sirs," he said, not looking at either man but not excluding either officer from the curtesy. He did not meet Steve's eyes.
"How did you sleep, Sergeant?" the doctor asked, checking one of the papers on his clipboard.
Unhappy with the question, the brunet sighed. "I had another bad episode, sir, but the Captain sedated me." He really couldn't meet his husband's eyes then, knowing he could easily be sent home, even institutionalized for continued anxiety . . . especially if he caused danger for the group due to screaming or sudden movement that could alert the enemy - - or even exhaustion due to lack of sleep. Privately, he was glad he didn't have the eating disorder he used to have as a teenager.
Steve didn't take his eyes off his husband, worry pitted in his stomach; the last thing the blond wanted to happen was for Bucky to be sent to a hospital.
The doctor notated his chart, which Steve could see said 'Duty: approved. Personal: unstable.'
The word 'unstable' caused Steve's breath to hitch only slightly, trying to keep his composure calm. Would the doctor send Bucky stateside?
"I have a medication I can give you, Sergeant, if you'd like to try it?" The doctor glanced over his clipboard at the lean brunet. "It is experimental yet, but may work. It has had some success with calming aggression and fear in Alpha designated wolves."
"An experimental drug?" Steve asked, brows furrowed and he looked uneasy. Bucky had just undergone two weeks of experimentation, and the blond wasn't comfortable with the idea of his husband being subject to more.
Bucky's voice sounded soft, serious when he asked, "what exactly would you be giving it to me for?"
The doctor smiled. "It's hormone based, actually. Should cam your higher emotions enough for you to be able to sleep normally."
Looking thoughtful, the brunet's steel blues eyes trailed over to meet his husband's pure blue. "Look, I gotta discuss this with the Captain. He's my next of kin."
Nodding, the doctor stepped over to review other ex-prisoners, giving the men a small amount of privacy.
Steve's eyes focused back onto his husband, "what do you wanna do, Buck?"
"I'm not sure." He sighed and shifted from foot to foot. "I'm not a lab rat . . . but sleep sounds good, too." Bucky looked to Steve. "It helped last night . . . the sedative. But . . . does that mean I'll never be able to sleep without medicine?"
"You just got back, Bucky. You gotta give it some time . . . you need time to adjust." Steve bit his lip and sighed, "Look, I know things have . . . changed . . . but I don't want you taking experimental drugs unless you're sure that's what you want."
Bucky sighed, eyes troubled. He glanced towards the doctor then back at his lover. "Maybe for a couple nights to see if it helps?" he temporized.
Nodding once, still looking apprehensive, Steve said, "alright . . . but if you don't like it or the medicine hurts you in anyway . . . we'll figure something else out, okay?"
Bucky nodded. "I still wanna figure something else out, Steve. I don't wanna be on drugs forever." He signaled the doctor over and took a deep breath. "What are the side effects?"
Shaking his head, the doctor said, "nothing to worry you for the next few months. A decreased sexual drive, which shouldn't be a problem in the war."
Glancing over at his husband, Bucky reluctantly agreed, "No, I guess that shouldn't be a problem while I'm here. Okay, I'll try it out. For a bit. Not so sure I wanna do this permanent."
Phillips, done with his review, strode over to the pair with a determined set to his face. "Rogers," he barked out.
Steve's head snapped up and he looked at the older man; giving one last look to Bucky, the blond moved to stand in front of the Colonel. "Yes, sir?"
Eyeing the tall blond, the Colonel said, "if the doctor has cleared the Sergeant, you'll want to consider him for your team sniper. He's the steadiest shot and the only one to hit all targets."
Looking back at Bucky, Steve smiled softly, his chest swelling with pride once more. "Wouldn't want anyone else, Sir."
The Colonel nodded sharply and barked, "good. Get your team together and make sure they get the rest of their R&R. Tomorrow, you're going back to Azzano."
"Azzano, sir?" Steve's eyes flickered to his husband but he quickly caught himself and forced his eyes back to the older man.
"Yes, we still got work to do." Phillips moved off to herd the men who hadn't been chosen for Steve's strike team.
Steve walked back over to his husband and said, "Colonel Phillips thinks you'll be the best choice for our sniper . . . and I agree. That okay with you, Sergeant Barnes?"
A slow smile crossed Bucky's features and widened when the doctor added, "I'll wholeheartedly endorse the recommendation as long as the medication works. I'll make sure you get a prescription by evening chow."
"Yes, sir," Bucky snapped of a jaunty salute, well pleased he'd found a valuable spot on his husband's brunet might not like war, or anything that went with it, but as his husband's sniper? He'd be able to protect Steve like no other. "I say we have a hell of a chance of winning this war now, Cap."
A small smile graced Steve's lips and he nodded, "I'd say you're right."
The doctor was true to his word, as well. By the time the strike team met for their evening meal, the small military medical man handed Steve a glass bottle of pills. "Here you are, Captain. The medicine for your Sergeant. Once a night with the evening meal should be enough, since we want him to have the strongest reaction for bed. It should balance quickly . . . knock out any aggression and anxiety."
Taking the bottle of pills with a grateful nod, Steve said "thank you."
Nodding, the doctor added, "if it doesn't work, let me know through dispatch." He beamed and walked out of the pub the strike team had seemed to claim.
Bucky sat with the rest of the group this time, smiling as he listened to Dernier's wild story, translated by Jones for the rest of the group. For a group of men of different races and nationalities whose one true link was that they had been prisoners together in the same war, the team seemed to be meshing rather quickly.
Steve opened the bottle and shook out a dose, letting the grey colored chalky tablets fall into his palm. Nudging Bucky gently, the Captain handed the pills over to his husband.
Glancing at the pills then up at Steve, Bucky merely took the dose without a big fanfare. The others saw, but as the Sergeant seemed to accept that he was being medicated, they let it go. With his trademark grin, Bucky said, "Hey, Cap, I heard Phillips wants us to have a designation so he can refer to us by radio or dispatch. Whatcha calling this motley crew?"
Laughing, Steve looked at all the other men before looking back at Bucky, "been thinking over a few names, actually. One in particular stands out . . . how do you guys like 'The Howling Commandos'?"
The group paused for a long moment, staring at one another. Suddenly, Dum Dum lifted his mug of beer. "As long as I get to kick Hydra ass, I'll answer to anything."
The others agreed, though Bucky was less vocally approving. He seemed more amused than anything, happily downing the food that had been placed in front of him, again proving he had a significant increase in appetite since being a prisoner. He winked at Steve when he caught the blond's eye then turned his smile to Gabe. "Your turn. How'd a musician wind up in the Army?"
The laughter and stories continued for some hours before the party broke up for the evening. Bucky rose to his feet and grabbed his hat, putting it on at a jaunty angle. He turned to Steve. "Forgot my key, Cap," he said softly.
"Some things never change," Steve joked lightly as he stood up to walk with Bucky back to their room.
The night was cold and the Sergeant stayed close to the Captain, hands buried deep in his coat pockets. As they walked, Bucky seemed rather internal until he finally said "damn this cold, Steve. I feel like I'm freezing all my best bits off. Must be nice to be a walking tropical island." He looked up at the facade of the temporary barracks they had arrived at, bouncing slightly to keep warmer.
"Has its perks, yeah," Steve smiled and unlocked the door, allowing Bucky to step in before him.
Once inside, Bucky immediately walked over and turned on the radiator, muttering darkly about how they had to shut it off while no one was in. He shucked off his coat and hat, placing them neatly aside, then turned. He smiled, slipping his hand out of his pocket, holding his own key. "Hey, Cap, found my key."
"Would ya look at that," Steve chuckled as he shut the door behind him. He began to strip off his own uniform, folding the clothes nicely, before pulling on his sleepwear.
Bucky unbuttoned his uniform jacket and shirt, hanging them up in turn before starting on his belt. "Well, I gotta hand it to the doctor, Steve. I do feel less anxious." He removed his trousers, hanging them carefully, his shoes lined nicely by the door. Just in his underwear, Bucky turned to Steve and smiled softly. He reached in the drawer and pulled out his longjohns. "Can we still cuddle?" his voice sounded very soft.
Steve smiled and laid down on the bed, patting the spot next to him, "of course."
Eyeing his husband in the bed, the blond against the wall to give the brunet easy access out of the bed, Bucky took a deep breath and smiled, though his eyes looked apprehensive. He slid in next to his lover and turned his back to the man, facing the door. For the first time since Steve had rescued him, Bucky didn't smell troubled. In fact, his scent was so low key it was hard to detect, almost like a child's scent instead of a full grown man's.
The blond placed a gentle kiss to the back of Bucky's neck, "I love you, Buck."
Turning in Steve's arms so he lay on his back, Bucky smiled and leaned into his husband to kiss his lips. "I love you, Stevie," he breathed into the man's mouth. "Thanks for coming for me."
"Always," Steve murmured as he kissed his husband again.
xxx
Setting: AU: Saturday, November 6, 1943: London, England to Azzano, Italy
Fortunately, Bucky didn't have a nightmare, sleeping almost as soundly as when he'd been sedated. If anything else resulted from the medicine, the brunet at least had one peaceful night. This time he woke before Steve, meaning that his husband wouldn't have to try to shimmy over him to get out. Smiling, Bucky turned carefully in Steve's arms and kissed the blond's full lips.
Steve's eyes opened and he had to blink a few times to completely register what was happening. Once he did, the blond moved his hands to caress Bucky's hips and said, "mornin' Buck."
Bucky smiled and continued kissing Steve, trailing down the blond's neck and moving the cloth of Steve's sleepshirt as he went. Moving his mouth back to his husband's neck, Bucky traced the tip of his tongue over the scarred bite mark. He lifted his eyes to meet Steve's.
The larger man couldn't stop the groan of pleasure as Bucky licked the sensitive scar, "Bucky . . ." Steve moved to kiss his husband's matching scar, gently nipping at the raised flesh.
Softly whimpering at the sensation, Bucky lifted his face and smiled at his lover. "Missed you, Cariad," he murmured and kissed Steve's neck again.
"Missed you, too, baby," Steve smiled and pressed his lips to Bucky's, against his lover's mouth he breathed, "so much."
Running his slender hands down to Steve's waist, Bucky slipped his fingers under the hem of Steve's pajama top, caressing over the heated flesh he found. "How much time you think we got, Stevie?" he purred.
Steve's filling member twitched at the sound of Bucky's voice, and the blond moaned, "plenty of time, Buck." The bigger man shifted and pulled at the brunet so that the blond was under his husband's leaner weight, "Missed you, baby," Steve repeated, running his hands down Bucky's sides.
Grinning, the brunet slid his husband's shirt over his head. Bucky leaned over Steve, straddling his hips, and began to kiss his chest, licking gently at his lover's nipple. "Damn beautiful, Steve. Always so beautiful . . ."
Steve keened and arched into Bucky's touch, "Bucky . . ." the word came out as a loud moan.
"Gotta quiet down, Stevie, or we might get caught, baby." Bucky smiled and lapped at Steve's belly, dipping provocatively into the man's navel.
Bringing one arm over his mouth to stifle the uncontrollable noises he made, Steve's hips canted and his erection strained against the fabric of his sleep pants.
Sliding his hands down, hooking his fingers in Steve's waistband and tugging as he went, Bucky drew his husband's pants from his muscular body. He followed his lover's pants, kissing down along Steve's hip bone and, skimming past his erection, moved down the blond's large thigh.
"Bucky, baby," Steve groaned behind his arm, arching off the bed as his husband avoided the blond's erection, "please."
"Yeah, Stevie?" the brunet breathed, moving his mouth back up to Steve's hipbone.
"Please . . ." Steve whimpered, free hand clutching tightly at the sheets below him. "I need you to love me, baby, please?"
With a soft chuckle against the man's skin, Bucky thrust two of his own fingers in his mouth and began coating them with spit. He looked up to Steve's flushed face. "I gotcha, Cariad." He slid his hand around to Steve's passage and began massaging around the man's opening.
Moaning into the crook of his arm, Steve's eyes shut and he bucked his hips again, needing more of his lover. They'd been separated for far too long.
Carefully, Bucky slid his finger into his husband, watching the man's beautiful face. With a smile, momentarily ignoring the fact that he felt no arousal himself, the brunet began caressing Steve inside, massaging over his prostate, curling and stretching inside his lover. He used his other hand to encircle that large erection before his face, licking around Steve's cockhead and dipping his tongue tip into the slit in imitation of his finger in Steve's hot passage.
Involuntarily Steve's hips jerked off the bed but he forced himself to keep the movement as gentle as possible; the feeling of Bucky's mouth on him and fingers inside of him felt like heaven. He'd missed his lover's touch, nothing else felt like Bucky.
Engulfing the large tip of his husband's member, Bucky began to suck slowly, slipping a second finger inside that large, sturdy body. Bucky could finally believe his husband could handle the kind of loving the blond preferred: wild and hard. Scissoring, rotating, caressing, thrusting, Bucky worked his fingers in his lover and over Steve's prostate as he sucked.
Steve had to bite down gently on his arm to keep the loud, obscene noises he made quiet. His husband knew exactly where to stroke to drive him crazy; he already felt himself nearing the edge of his pleasure. His abdomen tightened and he pulled away from his arm to breathe out, "almost there, baby."
Bucky slowly began to swallow his husband's member in response, sucking as he went, pulling out his fingers then thrusting three in deep and fast, angling just right to hit the blond's prostate with a long, deep sweep. He lifted his eyes to latch onto Steve's face, enjoying the obscene expressions his husband made. The brunet tried to drive his husband over the brink, hoping to help Steve reach orgasm quickly.
Barely covering his mouth in time to muffle his loud moan, Steve came down Bucky's throat, fighting the urge to thrust deeper, not wanting to hurt the brunet.
Swallowing his husband's seed fully, Bucky pulled back so his mouth only covered the twitching, spurting tip. As Steve's orgasm wound down, the Sergeant pulled off the Captain's member with an obscene noise. He eased his fingers from Steve's ass gently and sat up. The brunet slid his leg over Steve's hips so he could settle next to the larger man, kissing him on the mouth. "Better, Cariad?" he whispered.
Kissing his husband, eyes half-lidded and cheeks flushed with release, Steve smiled and offered, "Much better . . . I could do you now, if you want?"
Flushing suddenly, Bucky sat up. "No need, Cariad. I'm fine." He stood to begin getting out of his longjohns so he could dress for the day. Though he didn't make a big deal of the problem, it was quite evident that Bucky was totally flaccid.
Propping himself up, Steve looked over at Bucky, suddenly remembering what the doctor had said about the side effects of the drug that Bucky was taking. "Sorry, baby . . . I forgot about - - the side effects?" The blond got up off the bed and kissed Bucky's cheek on the way over to get his clothes.
Bucky smiled at his husband. "Only until I get my head back together, Steve. Then I can give up the meds, too." He washed at the sink then pulled on that day's uniform.
"You slept through the night, baby, the meds must work," Steve was happy that his husband hadn't been woken up by a nightmare . . . maybe with a few more nights of uninterrupted sleep Bucky would be able to sleep without the medication.
"Yeah," the brunet smiled wide, eyes light and happy. "I did. I had good dreams, but can't recall them now. But . . . I feel great, Steve." He was reminiscent of the old, pre-war Bucky.
"Good," Steve beamed, slipping on his jacket and buttoning it up, "I'm glad." He couldn't help but to notice that Bucky still didn't quite smell like himself . . . the brunet's scent vaguely reminded Steve of how he used to smell as a teenager.
Finishing dressing, Bucky turned to pack away the uniform from the day before along with his toiletries. The Sergeant finished quickly, since he'd learned to travel light and their R&R had only been scheduled for a very brief stint. Smiling as he buckled his bag closed, the brunet looked over. "Ready to face the Howlin' Commandos?"
"As long as I have you, I can face the world, baby," Steve smiled and walked over to kiss his husband again.
"Good, cause I can't face the world without you. I think I'd lose myself." Bucky shouldered his bag and headed for the door, throwing Steve a jaunty wink. He led his husband to the group on the small nearby tarmac and, without more than a nod of greeting, slipped onto the plane to find a seat.
Morita rolled his eyes and looked at Steve. "He always anti-social?"
"No, usually he loves people," Steve said in a teasing tone, "maybe it's just you lot."
"I believe he'll open up once we've finished the first mission. This one is bringing him closer to his personal hell," Major Falsworth said softly, tugging the sleeves of his jack to straighten them. "Sooner onboard, sooner we start this mission, gentlemen." The British officer strode onto the plane; the rest of the team followed.
On the plane back to the the Azzano base, Colonel Phillips stepped over to a central table bolted to the floor. He looked over at Steve and his Commandos then at a map tacked to the wooden surface of the table, ignoring a nondescript man with a press badge in his helmet. "Near that factory you blew up is a small building. We have reason to believe it's a weapons distribution storage with a cache left behind. You need to get in, silence the enemy, and get those weapons." Looking up, the older officer growled out, "try to save as many as possible, but blow the hell out of them if you have to."
Steve nodded and looked down at the map laid out, the blond's eyes kept gravitating towards his husband, worried about being this close to Azzano so soon.
Bucky frowned, staring carefully at the map. He didn't even look up to catch Steve's eyes. Rather, he concentrated on what was said, plotting out what he could possible do . . . and how he could take down any enemies before they got the jump on him again.
"Do we save prisoners or weapons?" Morita asked on a growl.
"Prisoners?" Gabe Jones hesitantly offered. "We're the good guys."
"Stubble that," Phillips said."You're to save those weapons. The enemy has already proven they're not above torture and killing our men."
Dum Dum shook his head, "but if there are men that need saving . . . shouldn't we try?"
Bucky looked up at last. "If they surrender or ask for help, I say help. Otherwise, they're viable targets." His voice sounded calm, reasonable, as if he talked about picking up groceries or running errands.
"I agree with Sergeant Barnes," Steve said, his tone firm and strong.
The Major placed his hand under his chin, fingers covering his mouth as he studied the map. Finally, lifting his fingers, he said, "so, with our small group, we should be able to get there in two maybe three days. Do we have extraction, Sir?"
Phillips shrugged. "I'll leave that up to you lot. I just give the assignments. You figure out how to get them done." The man turned and strode towards the jump seat closest to the cockpit and strapped in, leaving Steve and his group to hash out the details.
After several questions and answers back and forth, the plan started forming into a cohesive picture. They would go in, through the front door, as Steve termed it, and all hell would break loose. If they needed it, Bucky would perch in a tree to pick off hostiles. Naturally, if no perch presented itself, Bucky would just storm the front like the others.
Bucky shook his head and sighed. "If I'm going to be up a tree, I'll need a hell of a lot warmer clothes than I already have, Cap. Regular Army issue's too cold for long term sitting still."
The blond smiled and turned to rummage through his belongings, pulling out a thick dark blue peacoat and a pair of brown pants, thicker than the standard issued trousers given from the military. Handing the outfit over to his lover, Steve said, "Howard gave these to me but they're too warm. I didn't want to waste them though."
The brunet gladly took the pants and jacket, letting his clever fingers run over the warm material. His eyes lit up and he glanced at Steve with a smile. Per his usual teasing, Bucky said "wow, it's not even my birthday, Cap." That elicited a chuckle from everyone.
After they landed, and the Commandos got set up in cold-weather tents on the edge of base, Dum Dum strode off to do his watch, to be relieved by Bucky in four hours. Major Falsworth had an individual tent due to his officer's status, though no one seemed surprised by the fact that their other officer, and commander, Steve bunked up with one of the Sergeants, Bucky. By then, they all realized that the pair were close friends since childhood, and no one seemed to blame the men for wanting a touch of home in the horror of that hell.
The lean brunet took his second dose of medicine with his meal before heading for Steve's officer-style tent. He eyed the plain furnishings; Steve had been granted more supplies than Bucky, but the enlisted man didn't seem too bothered by that. Rather, he stared at the narrow cots, one on either wall, with the bare expanse between them.
"We can push them together, if you want?" Steve offered.
"Yeah, maybe lash the legs together so they don't slide apart?" Buck agreed readily. He offered his husband a smile, looking calm despite the fact that they would be heading back towards his prison in the morning.
Nodding, Steve grabbed one of the cots and lifted it effortlessly, the blond moved it so the bed pressed flush against the other.
"Show off," Bucky chuckled softly but didn't stop the show of easy strength. Rather, he grabbed some rope from his duffel and began lashing the legs securely together, proving he'd learned more than shooting in his basic training. "So, Stevie . . . this might not be so comfortable with that hump in the middle from the frames. Maybe since you're a damn heat factory, we can load the extra blankets over the bed itself, just leaving one for over us?" Bucky did as he suggested, so the hump in the middle was softened by the blankets.
"Sounds good to me, gives me an excuse to hold you closer," Steve smiled, he settled into the cot, back pressed up against the canvas wall of the tent.
Drawing a soft breath, Bucky slid into bed after Steve, turning his face towards the open tent area and the door across from them, his back settled into Steve's warmth. He pulled the blanket over them and sighed, letting his eyes close. Softly, he said, "love you, Stevie."
Pressing his lips to the back of Bucky's neck, Steve murmured, "I love you, too, Buck."
Drifting off quickly as he had the night before, Bucky shifted soon after he fell asleep. He shifted again, turning towards his husband. Turning again, almost jerking, Bucky began screaming in a mix of English and Romanian, a scattering of Polish words among the clearer name, rank, and service number. "Sergentul James Barnes, trei doi cinci cinci șapte zero, trei opt. Sierżant James Barnes, trzy dwa pięć pięć siedem zero trzy osiem." He thrashed out, eyes wide but unseeing, screaming his mantra in various languages.
Steve jolted awake and looked at his husband with wide eyes; acting quickly, the blond cupped the brunet's face and crashed his lips to Bucky's. He held his lover close to him as he continued to press their lips together.
Bucky whimpered and shuddered then took a quick, deep breath. Scenting his lover, the brunet blinked several times then grasped Steve's pajama top and pulled out of the kiss. He put his forehead against Steve's broad chest and sobbed.
Dum Dum watched the two lovers for a few moments, unsure if Steve even realized he'd come in to help. After Bucky had begun to wind down slightly, Dum Dum slowly backed out of the tent, standing in front of the entrance to stop any unwanted visitors.
"And I'm going in, Sergeant," Peggy's voice came to the pair in the tent just before the agent swept past the large form of Dum Dum, opening the tent flap without warning. "Steve?" her voice softened and she walked over, eyes sympathetic. "Do you need someone to stand watch for him?"
Cradling Bucky close to his chest, Steve looked over at Peggy with wide eyes, "he won't be able to do much of anything."
She nodded. "I'll stand watch tonight," she said firmly. "Let him rest." She turned and opened the tent flap once more, frowning as she noted Colonel Phillips and the medic standing by Dum Dum, the officer growling at the enlisted man that guard duty is not stood in front of the Captain's tent and to go do his perimeter rounds. "Sir, I've got the watch and am relieving Sergeant Dugan."
Phillips grumbled and let her go. He turned and opened the flap. Ignoring the crying soldier in the larger blond's arms, Phillips glared at Steve. "Solve this problem, Captain," he ordered and left, on his way back to bed.
Steve nodded, as he continued to hold his distressed husband.
The medic, standing in the tent opening with an all too familiar chart, sighed. "I understand the doctor in London started him on a new medication. The medicine will need time to work and may take another day or two to kick in. But . . ." he shook his head. "If he cannot get under control, he'll jeopardize your entire team."
"I understand," Steve said, "we'll figure something out."
The doctor nodded and left, letting the tent flap fall down.
Bucky lifted his face, trembling. "I'm sorry, Steve . . . so sorry."
"Sshh," Steve cooed gently, pressing his lips to Bucky's temple, "you got nothing to be sorry for, Buck. You can't control when you get nightmares."
"His hands were all over me . . ." Bucky sobbed. "I hurt everywhere . . ."
"How can I help, Bucky?" Steve asked softly, running his fingers soothingly through his lover's hair.
"I don't know . . . I thought the medicine could help." The brunet's hands moved restlessly over the blond's large chest. "I was relaxed . . . but then, I . . ." he shuddered.
"The doctor said it could take a few nights for the medicine to fully kick in," Steve said softly.
"Give me another sedative, Steve . . ." Bucky whispered.
Pulling back slightly, Steve looked down at his husband, "you . . . you sure?"
"Steve, I need sleep to work, and the team needs me quiet or I'll endanger us all. If I have screaming dreams every night, I might as well be in the nut house after all." He buried his face in Steve's chest again.
Steve sighed softly and pressed his lips to Bucky's hair before climbing over him to the edge of the bed, "Alright. Let me get them, okay?"
Bucky let go of Steve's shirt and watched him with haunted eyes.
Rooting through his bag to find Bucky's sedatives, once he found them, Steve walked back over to the bed and knelt down in front of the brunet.
Pulling up his longjohn sleeve, Bucky held out his arm. "Tomorrow, on the road, maybe we can think of something better?" The brunet held hope mixed with desperation in his voice.
"We'll figure something out," Steve gave his husband a small smile before injecting the drug into his arm with tender care.
xxx
Setting: AU: Sunday, November 7, 1943: Azzano, Italy
On the road, in the back of the truck with the other Commandos, Bucky stayed withdrawn and thoughtful, trying to puzzle through his problem. He sat close to Steve and every rut in the road sent them bumping each other, once in awhile even shifting Bucky into a near sprawl across the gorgeous blond. No one seemed to notice. Dernier was often knocked into Gabe and Morita had been sent flying more than once into the middle of the truck bed.
Finally, the truck pulled aside for the men to get out, relieve themselves, stretch and have a little lunch. After thirty minutes, they were on the road once more. The hours stretched by, and the Commandos broke the silence with soft stories, mostly about their strikes before they'd been forced together. Denier, translated by Gabe, had broken into an enthusiastic story about hiding out in a brothel during a mission by the time the truck stopped for the night.
With a groan, Bucky led the men from the back of the truck, stretching and walking out the kinks before he began setting up Steve's tent. "Hey, Cap, we'll need someone to gather water and another wood so we can get some heat, unless you're calling a ban on fire," Bucky said calmly.
Throughout the evening, Bucky repeated the actions of advising Steve but ending with an option so Steve appeared the one making the real calls. But really, since Bucky was the far more experienced, he was basically guiding his little-trained husband in how to lead the group. By the time it came to set the watch, Jones then Falsworth, Bucky seemed calm and in control, having yet again taken the suppressant the London military doctor had given him.
The brunet walked over to the tent and stopped, hand on the flap. He glanced over his shoulder at Steve and said, "night, Cap," then slipped into the darkened interior. He struck a lamp inside, the glow barely spilling out beyond the heavy canvas.
Steve followed his husband into the tent; in a soft voice he asked, "did you think of anything that might help you?"
'Beyond the meds and sedatives? No, not yet," Bucky sighed in frustration, stripping down to his skivvies. He hung up his uniform and lined up his boots, caressing a hand over that oh-so-warm jacket he'd been wearing that day. "How about you, Stevie?"
Rubbing the back of his neck, Steve shrugged, "well, ever since I got the serum . . . I don't need much sleep. Maybe two hours a night? I can try to watch you . . . if it starts to look like you're getting upset . . . I can try waking you up before it gets to the screaming?"
"Okay, if you're sure about the sleep thing," Bucky conceded, frowning softly. He walked over to Steve and their pallet on the floor, since cots on the move were an inconvenience. As he got close to his husband, Bucky's scent was actually stronger than it had been since the imprisonment, but it had changed. It was calm and inviting, like when Bucky had been a teen in heavy puberty.
Lying down on the inside of the bed, Steve looked up at Bucky and patted the spot next to him, "c'mon, baby."
With a deep breath, Bucky began to slide into the pallet next to his husband, the free, open center of the tent on his other side. Before he could settle, Bucky shook his head and slipped right back out from under the blanket. "I . . . I can't do this, Steve," he moaned softly, wrapping his arms around himself.
Sitting up, Steve looked at Bucky with worried eyes, "I know you're scared, Buck. But you need to at least try and get some sleep."
"No, Steve. It's not the sleep. It's . . . I can't lay down with you like this . . ." Bucky looked miserable, torn and upset.
"Oh . . . okay," Steve nodded and got up out of the bed; he began to walk over to the chair.
Still holding himself, Bucky watched as Steve moved off, eyes wide and looking more vulnerable with each step his husband took.
"I can watch you from the chair, Buck," Steve said softly, golden hair glowing with the burn of the lamp.
Shaking his head, Bucky whispered, "I can't sleep alone . . . please . . . Steve . . ."
"Buck . . . you - - you just said you couldn't sleep . . ." Steve shook his head, he had no idea what Bucky wanted from him.
"I … I can't have the open section - - the door - - near me, Steve. I feel . . . vulnerable, weak. I . . . I'm sorry. I . . . I can't sleep with that open space next to me . . ." Bucky watched Steve, his blue-grey eyes washed with tears of humiliation.
Stepping closer to Bucky, Steve cupped his face and placed a tender kiss on the brunet's lips, "okay, I'll sleep on the outside. It's not a problem, baby."
"I don't want you in danger, Steve . . . but, I can't . . . I really can't," Bucky whimpered.
"Hey," Steve cooed gently, "Buck, look at me."
The brunet lifted miserable eyes, a hint of guilt washing them.
"It's really not a big deal, baby," Steve kissed his husband again, "here," the blond helped his husband down onto the inside of the bed.
Bucky crawled close to the tent wall. Of course, the canvas was little protection against any real enemy, but somehow, being between that barrier and his sturdy husband settled Bucky's nerves more than the meds, which seemed to have worn off in his distress, oddly enough. He looked to Steve.
Turning to face his lover, hand resting on Bucky's hip, Steve smiled softly, "feel any better?"
Nodding, Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve's shoulders and kissed his husband's thick neck, breathing in that sweet scent he loved. "God, yes, Stevie. Thank you for doing this for me." He lay down and snuggled up, front to his blond lover, back to the canvas wall. Smiling softly, Bucky traced his fingers down Steve's clothed chest. "I feel like I'm back in our apartment almost."
Placing a kiss to the top of Bucky's head, Steve smiled and said, "yeah . . . I miss our little apartment."
"Even if the heat sucked and the bathroom was just a toilet behind a curtain," Bucky chuckled softly, his voice sounding tired and slow.
"Yeah, but it was ours," Steve said softly.
"Ours," Bucky repeated and brushed a kiss over Steve's neck, avoiding the scar but getting close. "Love you, Cariad." His eyes closed and Bucky drifted into sleep.
"Love you, baby," Steve murmured, watching as Bucky fell asleep.
Only a couple of hours passed before Bucky started shifting in his sleep and softly whimpering.
Steve, having been watching his lover, gently shook Bucky's shoulder, kissing his husband's lips, "Buck . . . baby, wake up."
Steel blue eyes opening wide, Bucky drew in a deep, shocked breath, and blinked. He stared at Steve a long time before recognition came to him. "Stevie?" Bucky whispered.
"Yeah, baby, it's me. You were having a bad dream," the blond carefully stroked a lock of hair out of his husband's face.
"Yeah . . ." the brunet agreed and snuggled into his husband's chest, breathing deep. "But you're here. I'm safe," he murmured and actually drifted back off quickly.
"Always," Steve whispered and cradled Bucky closer, listening as the brunet's breathing evened back out.
xxx
Continued in Chapter Twenty-Four: Bucky Watch and First Strike