Chapter Title: Bucky Watch and First Strike
Author: Sam
Story: The Omega Trials: 24 of ?
Series: The Omega Rights (part two)
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Setting: AU: November 8 - 10, 1943; Austrian Alps to Azzano, Italy
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Translations:
cariad - love - Welsh
et des vêtements - and clothing - French
oui - yes - French
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Setting: AU: Monday, November 8, 1943: Azzano, Italy
In the morning, after two more near nightmares which the blonde interrupted before they became bad, Bucky woke with a smile. He looked towards his husband and felt safe, loved, and protected. He'd always felt like the protector of little sick Stevie, and still felt the need to protect and care for his husband, but . . . but the fact that his lover could act as a barrier in the night made Bucky's fears ease better than the meds had. Bucky wondered if this could work for them in the future, as well.
He leaned closer and kissed Steve's scar. Bucky's scent was happier than it had been in awhile. "Steve, wake up . . . or I'll crawl over you like when we were kids." Was that it? Was he so uncomfortable on the outside because he'd always slept on the inside when they were growing up? Something so small?
"Mhmm . . ." Steve smiled happily but didn't open his eyes.
"You're going to force me, Cap," Bucky warned in a teasing tone, moving his kiss to the shell of the blond's ear, licking a little.
Steve rolled over and wrapped his arm around Bucky's waist, "no . . . five more minutes . . . don't wanna get up."
"I'll wet myself in five more minutes. I've been holding it for over an hour enjoying your delicious warmth." Bucky moved his kiss to Steve's eyelids, gently caressing each one before moving down to brush his lips over Steve's.
Steve groaned and finally opened his eyes, the blond slowly sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
Chuckling, Bucky said, "thought you didn't need sleep, Cap?" He crawled over Steve anyway, body brushing against his lover's heavily as he slid from their shared pallet.
"Oof," Steve grunted as Bucky crawled over his body, "I need some. But someone rudely woke me up to pee." The blond's tone was teasing, lighter than it had been for weeks.
"Well, you can sleep again now. Should be able to fall asleep at a moment's notice in the field. I'm gonna go relieve my kidneys." Bucky pulled his jacket on, smiling widely, and slammed his feet into his boots before stomping out to the latrine.
A few minutes passed before Steve heard Bucky's voice outside the tent once more. "Sir? Yes, I . . ." his voice fell quieter.
Furrowing his brows, Steve stood up and quickly got dressed. He walked outside of the tent to see who Bucky was talking to.
Colonel Phillips stood there with the medic, as both had accompanied the Commandos on this mission to be able to judge if the strike team could really handle being thrown back into the field. Bucky addressed Phillips, though the medic took copious notes.
"Not a problem. The meds may have kicked in at last, or maybe I'm finally getting it together," Bucky said, his back straight but his body shaking since he was dressed in longjohns only under that jacket.
"Captain?" Phillips looked at the large blond. "What do you think? The Sergeant improving?"
"Slept through the night without screaming . . . I'd say a definite improvement," Steve reported.
The medic looked pleased. "Good, just keep monitoring him," he said, as if Bucky wasn't standing there freezing his ass off. "Let me know if things change again."
The pair left Steve and Bucky, heading off to check on other Commandos just rising for the day and the rest of their arduous ride to the depot.
"Steve, let's talk about my problem in the tent. I've got some ideas to run past you, and we can tell the team in the truck," Bucky said softly, bouncing and stomping.
Nodding, Steve turned back to the tent and opened it so that Bucky could step in first, "alright."
The Sergeant obediently, quietly walked through the opening and headed to the center of the tent, back to the doorway. He held his upper arms in a near self-hug, staring at the pallet they'd shared as a bed.
Walking in after Bucky, Steve let the flap close behind him and looked at his husband, "what are some of your ideas, Buck?"
"I can't sleep with an open space next to me, Steve . . . not anymore. Freaks me out." He turned. His eyes held a tired, resigned expression but he didn't look haunted like he had before. "And I need to feel touch . . . something soft, not restrictive." Bucky dropped his hands and looked at them then raised his grey-blue eyes to his lover.
"So," Steve nodded, taking in the information, "you need to sleep on the inside . . . and have someone there to soothe you."
Flushing at the way that sounded, almost as if Bucky needed or craved manhandling from someone, the brunet sighed. "I guess."
Closing the distance between them, Steve wrapped his hands around Bucky's biceps, rubbing them gently, "hey, it's okay. Nothing to be ashamed of."
"But, Steve," Bucky pointed out softly, not pulling away from the soothing touch of his husband's still surprisingly strong hands, "that means that when you're on watch, I won't be able to sleep or I risk nightmares . . . and bringing the enemy down on us all."
"Not if," Steve took a deep breath, meeting his husband's eyes, "one of the guys stays in here with you while I'm on watch."
Nodding, not rejecting the idea out of hand, privately glad Steve had been the one to say what Bucky had been thinking, too, the brunet replied softly, "I guess I could ask to move in with Dum Dum on those nights or something . . . unless that messes with the watch rotation schedules . . ."
"What if . . . we have a separate watch . . . the men can take shifts just like they do with watch? That way no one loses a whole night of sleep . . ." Steve looked slightly unsure of his own plan.
"You mean, the four hour shifts you're actually on watch, one of the guys is sharing my bed, Steve?" Bucky tilted his head, waiting, watching Steve's reaction.
Steve shrugged, "it's where you'll feel the most comfortable. And that way you don't hafta keep movin' around."
"Wouldn't that look peachy keen? Me bed hopping while you're on watch. People will certainly talk if I did that." He offered a slightly teasing smile, though his eyes looked troubled.
Chuckling softly, Steve squeezed Bucky's arms softly, "it ain't a bad idea. That way you get the sleep you need and none of the other men lose much sleep. And we won't have to worry about our position being compromised."
"If they're light sleepers, they can even sleep at the same time instead of staring at me for four hours . . ." Bucky sighed and looked towards the door behind Steve. "Hey, Stevie, I don't want them forced into it or anything. Strict volunteer basis. If we gotta arrange things so that you have to tent hop because of things, would that bother you?" Bucky met his husband's eyes.
"Of course not," Steve offered Bucky a small smile, "I just want you to be able to get the sleep you need."
"I figure as time goes on, I'll get more balanced and relaxed, right? Then we won't need a watch over me, right?" Bucky looked hopeful, feeling sort of inadequate as a soldier, being unable to sleep on his own anymore.
"Right," Steve confirmed with a nod, "you just need time to . . . adjust? Heal."
"Hey, punk, let go my arms, okay?" Bucky gave a soft smile.
Steve flushed and dropped his hands.
Instantly, Bucky wrapped his own arms around Steve, as he used to do when the blond was much smaller. Whispering in his husband's ear, Bucky said, "I love you, Steve Barnes, cariad."
Smiling, Steve whispered back, "love you, too;" he returned the hug and took a deep breath of Bucky's still muted scent, but even diluted, it still calmed him.
"So," Bucky pulled back, reluctantly, from his husband's embrace. "Let's go see if the guys wanna do Bucky Watch?" His tone sounded like an attempt at his old humor.
Steve nodded and offered Bucky another smile before quickly finishing getting dressed and packing up any of his gear.
After quickly dressing as well, the enlisted man opened the tent and walked out. He took a breath and began stowing his gear in the truck with the rest of the Howlin' Commando gear, signaling to the others that he had been allowed to continue on with them after his apparently quiet night. Once everything else had been properly stored, Bucky turned to help Steve finish packing up the pallets and tent. As he turned to put the tight bundle in the truck he froze, eyes locked on the sight of Peggy also stowing her gear in the same truck.
Bucky looked over at Steve, eyes widening, but then he grinned, so wide it looked like he was that mischievous high schooler once again. He mouthed, "do we get to rotate her in, too?"
Steve chuckled softly and shook his head; he began to put the rest of the supplies into the truck.
The brunet made a moue of disappointment, but his smile still lurked around his eyes. Turning back to the truck, he grabbed the beefy hand of Dum Dum and allowed the larger man to pull him into the truck to find a seat in the remaining space. "Hey, Dum, guess I'm along for the ride."
"Glad you could make it," Dum Dum offered his friend a wide smile and friendly pat on the shoulder before sitting down next to Gabe.
Bucky turned to help Dernier into the truck then Falsworth before sitting into the chosen space he'd picked out near the opening. He was used to playing scout and marksman so liked to keep his eye on the escape routes and what might come at them through those routes. Once everyone was situated, including Agent Carter, much to Falsworth's surprise and Morita's consternation, the truck began to bump over the poorly kept trail. Bucky glanced to Steve.
Steve sat down in a space, almost too small for his large body, in between Peggy and Bucky. Taking a deep breath, he looked at all the men and then Peggy before starting, "So, Sergeant Barnes and I think we may have come up with a solution to . . ." the Captain's eyes flickered over to look at Bucky, nervous, "our night problem."
Bucky groaned and said, "make it sound like I'm a horny kid who can't . . ." he flushed and looked at Peggy. "Never mind."
Looking faintly amused, Peggy said, "of course."
Flushing slightly, Steve cleared his throat and continued, "we - - we think it might be best if we set up another . . . watch, of sorts. Volunteer only, of course."
Agent Carter turned interested eyes on the blond and asked, encouragingly, "what kind of watch are you asking us to volunteer for, Captain Rogers?"
The Sergeant nearly choked.
"Well," Steve rubbed the back of his neck and looked over at his lover again, "Sergeant Barnes has found out that . . . uh - - he's able to sleep better if someone else is . . ."
Shaking his head, Bucky interrupted his stammering husband, "I can't sleep alone because I get these screaming nightmares. I need someone friendly, that I trust, in the tent with me. I can't sleep with an open space near me, and I do better when I feel a friendly touch."
"You want us to handle you?" Denier asked, through a blushing Gabe's translation.
"If you grope me, I'll haveta slug ya', Denier," Bucky shot back, in fluent English then French, revealing to everyone that he spoke more than Romanian, a smile playing over his pretty features.
Dum Dum let out a laugh, apparently amused by the whole conversation, "hell, Barnes, if ya wanted to share a bed with me so bad all ya had to do was ask."
"Oh, does Mary know about your Bucky-fetish?" the brunet teased back, grinning. He turned his look on the others. "I thought maybe it could go like this: you know the Captain and I have been friends since we were tiny, so he's volunteered to do the lion's share of Bucky Watch, as we're calling it. But when he's on watch, I'll need someone else to take over. Maybe whoever is on the second half, or first half as the rotation goes, of that night's watch? That person will watch over me. Sleep is optional . . ."
The flamboyant Frenchman snickered and leered, "et des vêtements?"
"Yes, Dernier, oui, clothing is optional, but very highly recommended." Bucky reached across the small space to smack the Frenchman's arm, which drew a cackle from the small explosives expert. "If you sleep, it'd be best if you do that right next to me, touching my arm or something. That way if I start to panic, it wakes you up, so you can wake me up before I scream. And I need to be next to the tent wall, so that makes it easier for the watch to either wake up the Captain or be woken up by him when shift switch comes."
"That makes perfect sense," the Major commented.
After a bit of murmuring, the other men agreed one by one, while Peggy wisely and demurely opted out of something so . . . unconventional. The last to say anything was Jim Morita, who frowned, reluctantly agreeing as well.
With a nod, Bucky added the last bit that he hadn't told Steve, knowing his husband wouldn't have let him stay in the Commandos if the brunet had mentioned it earlier. "There's a second reason I need someone there, though. If I can't be stopped . . . the nightmare is too strong and I keep screaming or endangering everyone, I need the Bucky Watch to smother me."
"What?" Steve snapped, eyes flicking to Bucky quickly, his normal tone replaced with one of shock and terror. "That is not an option, Sergeant."
Bucky turned his eyes on his lover, trying to communicate his desperate need for this caveat.
Dum Dum looked between the two men, analyzing the silent conversation that was obviously going on between them. After a few long, tense moments the redhead nodded, "Hell, if it was me, I'd rather be smothered by a buddy than go to one of them hell holes they send crazy folk. And I sure as hell wouldn't want to endanger the rest of you. So, I can do it."
Bucky turned thankful eyes on his longtime Army buddy, glad the man understood what was so hard to say out loud.
Slowly, Falsworth then Dernier, who listened to Gabe's translation, agreed to the twist. Morita glanced at Steve then nodded. "Yeah, I can hold a pillow over your head if you're gonna draw enemy fire on us." Gabe reluctantly agreed then glanced at Steve. Even Peggy watched the Captain for his final answer.
Steve's normally vibrant blue eyes were hard, almost cold, and his fists were clenched tightly in his lap. Looking at Bucky, the blond didn't say anything, not trusting himself to speak, to verbally agree to such a horrible request; Steve nodded once.
Bucky finally dropped his eyes to his hands, which he had involuntarily been twisting together, and softly said, "hopefully you guys know the difference between smothering me to quiet unconsciousness and killing my ass." He glanced up at Peggy then flushed. "Sorry, ma'am."
"Understood," she soothed in her clipped, businesslike tone.
The brunet looked to Steve next to him and leaned just a bit closer trying to soothe is lover without words or outright touching.
The rest of the ride went by in strained silence until they finally arrived at their site, chosen for the reasonable distance for them to travel to strike their target but also the semi-cleared area in the ring of trees.
As the men and Peggy set up camp, Bucky found himself collecting firewood some ways away from the main group.
Steve, seeing an opportunity to finally talk to his husband alone, walked over to where Bucky was collecting pieces of wood. Clearing his throat softly to announce his presence, Steve said, "what was that, Buck?"
Slowly, the brunet turned, arms ladened but not overly so. "That? That was being practical, Steve. You might be able to break me out with a kiss, but I doubt the others would want to even try."
Stepping closer, voice dropping to a harsh whisper, Steve shook his head, "so you'd rather them take the risk of smothering you to death? God, Bucky . . . you - -" the blond shook his head again and ran his fingers through his hair.
Sighing, setting the wood down and sinking onto the cold, hard ground, Bucky looked up at his husband, knowing this wouldn't be a quick conversation. "How long you been in war, Stevie?"
"That doesn't matter, Bucky," Steve ground out.
"And if it was Dernier that had the nightmares? Our explosives expert?" Bucky asked, still sounding calm, detached even.
"I wouldn't suggest smothering him, either! I'd figure something else out." Steve sank down next to Bucky, looking over at his husband with a worried frown.
"Okay," Bucky agreed easily, still sounding detached, "tell me what they should do."
Steve looked at Bucky, blue eyes searching the face he'd come to memorize.
The brunet's grey-blue eyes were haunted once more, so rarely anything else passed through those once dancing orbs. He seemed passive, but there was an underlying fear just below the surface; Steve could even smell a faint whiff of it in Bucky's muted scent.
Shaking his head, Steve took a deep breath, "maybe . . . maybe you shouldn't be here, Buck. Be the sniper . . ." the blond looked like the words physically pained him to say.
"Steve, while you were at chow last night, the doctor came to talk to me, did he tell you?" Bucky drew on the ground with a loose stick he picked up. He was nowhere as good as Steve, but he'd shared enough art classes to be more than passable. He drew the Brooklyn Bridge.
"No, what did he say?" Steve asked.
Without raising his eyes, his tone almost as dead as his expression suddenly seemed, Bucky intoned, "if I don't make it with the group, I'm going stateside."
Releasing a deep breath, Steve shook his head and looked down at the drawing Bucky was doing, "None of those men know the fine line between smothering you unconscious and killing you, Bucky . . ." Steve closed his eyes.
"I'll be sent to an asylum under severe recommendation for the latest treatments," Bucky added. "Hydrotherapy, electric shock, even good old fashioned lobotomy." Looking over at Steve beside him, he said softly, "I'd rather take the chance on smothering me if I get a nightmare, Steve."
Steve's eyes opened, a pained expression on his face.
Reaching out a hand to touch his husband's beautiful face, the brunet added, softly, still sounding detached, "we can let them practice on the enemy until they get it right, if you want."
Looking shocked, Steve turned to meet Bucky's eyes, "what?"
Leaning over to place his forehead to Steve's, Bucky breathed in his lvoer's sweet scent. He whispered, "not the ones who voluntarily surrender, Steve. The ones that refuse to give up Hydra? We take 'em down without killing them, then let the guys practice smothering them before killing them?"
"Torture. That's what you're suggesting, Buck. That's torture," Steve still couldn't believe what he was hearing.
Shrugging, Bucky pulled back away from Steve and dropped his stick, hugging himself. "Smothering them to death or unconscious is a far cry from what they did to our side."
"I know . . ." Steve shook his head, "but . . ."
"No, you're right. That makes me the monster, instead." Bucky nodded, still hugging himself. "I never wanted to go to war, to kill anyone. Now I'm so screwed up I'm considering practicing killing people?" He shuddered and a sob escaped. "Might as well shoot me now. I really am insane."
"No!" Steve said forcibly, "don't you ever talk about yourself like that, okay? No one is going to shoot you or smother you. We are gonna fight this damn war and then we're gonna go home. Both of us. Where you go, I go."
"Don't let them take me back, Stevie. I keep thinking I'll open my eyes and Zola will be there with his damned needles of blue stuff and . . . him." Bucky sobbed harder and shuddered again.
Steve wrapped his arms around his husband and held him close, "you're never gonna go back. Never."
"Hello?" Agent Carter's concerned voice carried to them through the trees, getting closer, "Captain? Sergeant?"
The brunet started pulling out of the blond's arms, trying to hide their closeness, wiping at his eyes and tear-streaked face.
"It's okay, Bucky," Steve said softly, not letting Bucky go, "she knows."
"What?" the brunet froze, confused and afraid, "knows? About . . . us?" the whisper came out harsh and disbelieving.
"Yes," Steve answered, "I guess I'm just as lousy as you when it comes to keeping our relationship secret. She figured it out in bootcamp."
Another sob turned into a wrenching gasp then sounded sort of like a laugh as Bucky dropped his face to Steve's shoulder. "God, we're gonna get ourselves killed one of these days, Stevie."
Peggy stepped through the trees and stopped. "Oh, sorry. Do you need some time?"
Steve looked up at Peggy, his hands running soothingly down his lover's back. He offered the woman a strained smile.
She nodded and offered a comforting smile back at her friend. "Dugan set up your tent for you and the Colonel has arrived with the doctor to monitor the Commandos' reactions to being so close to that factory once more. I can cover for you for a little while, but dinner will be ready soon. Cold rations since we haven't got the firewood yet." She studied the pair then, practically, if a bit coldly, said, "I can teach them men the right amount of pressure and time it takes to knock someone unconscious if you'd like, Captain?"
"That'd be great, Agent, thank you," Steve said after a sigh of relief.
She nodded. "Consider it as our after-dinner lesson then. Shall I bring a load of wood back for the camp?" Without waiting for permission, she scooped up the load Bucky had already gathered and turned towards the campsite. "Hurry back or you won't get rations. You are on first watch tonight, Captain, and I believe you want to see the lesson before bed and watch?"
"How'd you wind up with a girlfriend who knows how long it takes to smother a guy, Steve?" Bucky said, his voice choking as he tried to sound light-hearted.
Peggy smirked and merely walked off into the trees.
Steve held Bucky for a few more minutes, continuing his soothing pattern on his lover's back. After a while he said softly, "we should get back."
"Kiss me, Cariad?" Bucky whispered softly, looking down once more at his aborted drawing and the stick lying across it haphazardly.
Carefully, Steve lifted Bucky's face and pressed his lips to his husband's.
Returning the kiss, eyes closing, passion building, Bucky gripped Steve's collar and pulled him into the kiss deeper, making a soft, almost needy whimper in the back of his throat. Finally, breaking the kiss, he touched foreheads again and whispered, "I love you so much, Stevie."
"I love you, too, Buck," Steve breathed, his affection evident in his tone.
A smile spread over the brunet's face and he pulled back. "I keep needing to hear that to chase away the monsters . . ." Slowly, he pulled out of his lover's arms and stood, beginning to gather wood once more, though he left the stick across his incomplete drawing. "I'm glad she's gonna train them, Steve." He looked over. "I really don't wanna die. I'm only twenty-six."
Steve nodded and stood up, "you aren't gonna die anytime soon, Buck. You're gonna live to be a hundred," the blond flashed his lover a smile.
Snorting, Bucky said, "as long as you live to be ninety-nine along with me, Stevie." He flashed his grin, his scent calmer once more, the fear all but gone. He led the way back to camp.
Dinner and the smothering lesson, though somber, went surprisingly well. Finally, it was the Colonel who stood first to lead the man off to their respective tents, eyeing Steve for a moment but not saying anything about this Bucky Watch that had been arranged. It was, in the end, Steve's team, not Phillips'.
Bucky took a breath and stood, dusting off his ass. "Night, Cap," he called and offered Steve a small smile as he headed into the Captain's slightly larger tent, the small French civilian right behind him. From the tent could be heard a string of French by the smaller man and Bucky's rich laughter bubbling out. Then Bucky and Dernier shot rapid French back and forth, laughter interspersing what soon became evident were dirty comments by the pair.
With a light tone, a smile on his face, Steve called out, "go to sleep you two!"
"Sir!" Bucky called back then broke into soft snickers, Dernier snorting in muffled laughter. But they apparently obeyed because soon only the quiet snores of Dernier could be heard from the tent.
Four long, cold hours passed before Steve finally could go to his tent to get Denier out of his bed and onto watch. When he slipped quietly inside, he could see in the light from his flashlight that Bucky slept with his face to the wall, Dernier cuddled up behind him spoon fashion, arms wrapped loosely around the taller man.
A slight pang of worry swarmed in the blond's chest; was this really a good idea, letting other men sleep in the same bed as his husband? Shaking his head, Steve silently moved to the edge of the bed and gently shook the Frenchman awake.
Dernier and Bucky both woke up, and the smaller man quietly slipped from the double-pallet to jam his feet into his boots and pull his jacket, formerly Bucky's jacket, on. The man saluted Steve and left the tent with the flashlight and a package of cigarettes.
Smiling softly, Bucky pulled back the covers for Steve to get in. "Not a nightmare at all, Stevie," he whispered. "This seems to be working."
Any doubt he had was swept away by those words; Steve offered his lover a smile as he slipped in next to the brunet, "good," he pressed his lips to Bucky's. "I love you."
"I love you, Cariad," Bucky replied, eyes drooping in need of sleep, but the man fought it until his lover had settled. "Thanks for coming for me, Steve," he murmured and drifted off, facing his husband, face buried against the man.
"Always," Steve whispered.
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Setting: AU: Tuesday, November 9, 1943: Austrian Alps, Austria
The dawn strike went off with little fanfare after such a massive amount of importance placed on the success by the doctor and Colonel. It almost felt anti-climactic.
Before the first rays even struck the paper-covered windows of the cement storage facility, their sniper had positioned himself on a low ledge of hill nearby. Warm in his Stark-created coat and trousers, the dark blue actually muted and camouflaging in the dim twilight of dawn, Bucky used his fine scope to pick out individual targets but never took a single one down. His job was to count the moving bodies and report the number to the team so they could offer those men the right of surrender.
Now, after such a good night of sleep despite the wake up at shift change and the early morning, pre-dawn prep, Bucky felt some shame in his desperate idea to possibly use those unknown men as practice subjects. He didn't think he would have been able to stomach going through with the particular bit of desperate insanity and so was privately extremely thankful that Agent Carter, Peggy, had known what to show the men. Mentally shaking himself, Bucky did a quick recount then lowered his sight and whistled a complicated bird trill consisting of the precise number of notes to correlate with the number of potential targets in and around the small building.
With a grin, Dum Dum turned his big smile on his new commanding officer, a man almost as big as himself. "Fourteen," he murmured softly, translating his fellow Sergeant's message for the still wet-behind-the-ears officer.
Nodding, Steve answered, just as softly, "bring him in. We strike as a team on this one. No one left out alone."
Dugan turned out gave the "come in" chirrup then picked up his assigned rifle and adjust the straps to more balance the weight. He grabbed his very non-regulatory derby hat, the one Mary said made him look so damn dashing, and slammed it onto his head, silently daring the Captain to challenge him when their sniper wore a bright blue coat of all things.
Steve wisely tuned to check on his other men, not begrudging the hat in the slightest. He watched as Peggy sat, steaming camp coffee in her ceramic and tin mug, by the radio that matched the smaller version Gabe would be carrying, strapped to himself. It was a more portable affair than the one the man had trained with so far in the war, an invention by Howard Stark to try to ease the heavy burden and clunky hardware necessitated by the radioman.
Morita, Falsworth, and Dernier armed themselves nearby, quickly sipping at the bitter, almost unpalatable camp brew to aid in waking themselves as well as warming themselves in the bitter November morning in the Alps. The Colonel sat stoically by the Agent and the doctor stayed quiet as he marked his notes with a scratching of his pen, unobtrusively obvious beside the high ranking officer. Bucky strode up on quiet tread despite the detritus of the forest, proving, like the rest of the team, he was made for stealth missions such as this one.
Without sharing a word, the group of seven men headed down through the trees towards the small bunker.
As they stood before the cement building, no sign of the enemy men who had all gone inside for the moment, Steve glanced to his left, where Bucky stood, stoic, then his right, where Dum Dum bounced lightly on his feet. Turning and looking straight ahead, Steve gave the signal and the Howlin' Commandos made their first strike, rushing the door with guns firing. The door burst open before their onslaught and Captain America broke from his pack to pull his shield into action, spinning as he bashed first one man then another with his new piece of weaponry. The light weight round metal felt like a natural extension of his body and immediately Steve knew he'd be thanking Howard for the precious gift of the rare vibranium. A motorcycle idling in the corner drew the leader's eye and he hurried over to the top of the line vehicle, still utilizing his shield for defense and offense.
Nodding his signal, none of the men talking amid defiant shouts of "Hail Hydra!", Steve watched the tiny Frenchman and equally compact Californian break off to set the charges. The pair worked quickly and rather seamlessly, Morita only a beat or two behind Dernier as they placed and armed their weapon of choice. Gabe, Falsworth, and Dum Dum took out any resistance and loaded up with weapons. Bucky, true to his post despite his proximity to the actual action, kept his rifle at the ready, covering his small until, blending backwards quickly into the shadows by the door to keep his own back protected and widen his range of view.
Still almost eerily silent, the two smaller Commandos turned and signaled the imminence of the explosions they'd rigged. The entire group broke for the exit, firing at stragglers as they backed out. Bucky scooped up a particularly enticing set of long rifles by the door but continued to use his own weapon as the group made their hurried way from the death trap. Steve revved up the motorcycle and felt it roar as it screamed from the bunker, debris, fire, and earth-shaking energy explosions licking at his tail as he raced for safety on his prize.
The building collapsed in a rain of fiery debris, cement in scattered chunks amid melted, twisted rebar.
The sun barely crested the horizon as the Howlin' Commandos began their arduous journey, in high spirits, back to the main base two days away.
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Setting: AU: Wednesday, November 10, 1943: Azzano, Italy
As the Howlers pulled their stuff from the truck in the waning light of nightfall, laughing and joking and looking forward to getting settled in the larger, better stocked, camp, Bucky quietly walked over to the USO-provided tent that had been assigned Steve and never rescinded. He opened the door and sighed at seeing the still tied beds. He smiled and put his stuff just inside the door, pulling out a towel and soap, then headed off for a shower, leaving Steve to fend for himself for a few minutes.
Peggy stepped up beside the tall blond man with a smile, watching as Howard confiscated Steve's stolen motorcycle to refurbish it. "Congratulations on the success of your first strike mission, Steve," she said softly. "The doctor and Colonel were please and cleared all of your men for continued strike duty . . . even Sergeant Barnes."
Steve breathed a sigh of relief, though his eyes still remained troubled.
"Come to my tent for a celebratory drink and to plan your next mission?" she offered politely, professionally.
"Sounds great," Steve offered her a smile.
She led the way to her private tent and let him inside, where few people ever were invited. The woman made sure her door was secured though they would have to keep their voices down since canvas walls held little secrets. Offering Steve a brandy, she smiled and sank onto one of two wooden folding chairs in there. "You sound less than pleased. What's wrong?"
Sinking into the chair, Steve sighed, playing with the glass in his hands, "I'm worried about Bucky."
"Did he have a nightmare last night?" She tilted her head.
"No, he hasn't had a nightmare since we started the whole Bucky Watch thing three days ago," Steve offered.
The brunet woman nodded, not interrupting, letting him explain in his own time.
"I'm . . . what if he doesn't want me anymore?" Steve whispered.
"Did he say something?" she asked, just as softly. "Was that what I interrupted the other day in the woods?"
"No, he hasn't said anything about . . . leaving me . . . but he just seems a lot happier since we started the Bucky Watch. He also mentioned something about me finding a woman to start a family with a few days before that. What if I'm not what he wants anymore?"
She looked thoughtful and nodded slowly. "Well, you are so much larger than you used to be, Steve. He went to war with the image of a delicate man he thought to protect. Now you're bigger than him." She looked up, "and no longer sterile. Perhaps he thinks he's limiting you? Or . . . maybe he isn't attracted to a larger man?" Her words merely echoed his own fears, not consoling or easing them.
Steve made a small, pitiful noise from the back of his throat.
Instinctively, the Alpha woman reached over to touch the shoulder of the very much larger, Omega man, though naturally she only instinctively reacted to him, as everyone thought he, too, was an Alpha. "Steve, you won't know unless you talk to him. Guessing only makes you both unhappy. Haven't you assumed in the past? I can recall at least two times you've assumed things about me or what I've thought which were totally incorrect."
Sighing, Steve nodded, eyes still focused on his untouched glass, "yeah, you're right. I should just talk to him."
"Of course I'm right. Else you wouldn't have come sought my advice." She smiled. "And since you finished your drink without even tasting my fine cognac, I must tell you to get yourself a shower and go talk to that man."
Smiling softly, Steve nodded and stood back up. He handed Peggy the glass back and said, "thank you, Peggy."
With an answering smile, the woman stood and watched him go. Whispering to his back, knowing his ears had improved enough to hear her, she said, "go get him, tiger."
After a quick shower, Steve made his way back to the tent.
Bucky stood there, still a bit damp, a towel wrapped around his waist. His scars were faded almost completely, except the bite mark Steve had placed there when they'd made love so many years ago. Bucky's tags hanged down against his chest, clinking softly against one another as he moved, putting away his dirty clothes, pulling out some clean boxers and longjohns. He looked over and smiled a bit at Steve, looking pleased to be clean once more. "Hey, there's still hot water at the officer's shower if you hurry."
"Already took mine," Steve said, not questioning how Bucky had managed to wrangle his way into the officer's shower. The blond stepped further into the tent. "Can I ask you something, Buck?"
Nodding, Bucky smiled and dropped his towel, beginning to pull on his boxers. "Anything, Stevie."
Dropping to a lower tone, Steve questioned, "you're happy, right? With me? With us?"
"Happy?" Bucky froze, boxers only up to his knees. He frowned and quickly pulled the covering up all the way. "Why wouldn't I be happy with us, Steve?" His voice had dropped equally soft.
Steve shrugged softly, "I just gotta make sure . . . I ain't exactly the same person you left in New York."
"You're not," the brunet agreed. "War changes people. You're a leader now." Bucky stepped over to Steve. "But I get the feeling you're talking about something other than being my commanding officer?"
Flushing softly, Steve ducked his head and nodded, "I still wanna be your guy, Buck . . . but I gotta make sure you feel the same. I - - I don't wanna hold you back."
Frowning, Bucky tried to puzzle through this latest confusing start of Steve's. The blond always seemed to go off on some self-deprecating turn when Bucky thought they were at their best. Slowly, he asked, "why do you think I'd have changed from loving you since I told you this morning?"
When Steve seemed to take an inordinate amount of time, Bucky got nervous. He softly said, "talk to me, Stevie. Why do you think I wouldn't want you any more? What's changed?"
"Everything's changed, Buck," Steve answered.
"I'm not understanding. By everything do you mean . . . how you feel about me? I know I'm . . . different. Broken, I guess." Bucky sighed, eyes pained.
"No," Steve said, eyes wide, "no, I still love you, Buck. But . . . I'm afraid that . . . I don't attract you anymore?"
"Because the medicine makes it so I can't get a stiffy? Steve, that's the drugs. You're beautiful!" Bucky said softly, reaching for his husband's hands.
"No, not that . . ." Steve flushed, "I'm not what you fell in love with back in Brooklyn."
"You're not?" Bucky looked and sounded confused. "How are you not my Steve? You like girls now?" he sounded worried.
"Why would you tell me to find a gal to start a family with, Bucky?" Steve asked.
"Because you can?" Bucky shook his head. "Because it's what guys, even guys like us, are supposed to do? Have kids and a wife, pretend not to like guys, and . . . just be normal?"
"Well, if you think like that, you could find a wife and start a family, too," Steve said.
Flushing slightly, Bucky shook his head. "No, Steve, I can't. I never could get erect around a woman. Not even once." He shrugged looking a bit embarrassed.
"Really? All those . . . girls? Not once?" Steve looked surprised, but also a little relieved.
"Yeah, and back then, even knowing I was in love? Yeah, I tried, believe me, I tried. But nothing. So, yeah, a family, even a half-fake one, ain't in my future." He offered a small, tentative smile to Steve, "but you'd hardly have trouble finding a willing girl now, wouldn't you?"
"I don't want a girl. I want you," Steve said honestly, "you're all I've ever wanted." The blond licked his lips nervously and asked, "there - - there isn't another . . . guy is there?"
Nodding softly, looking like he suddenly understood, Bucky slowly said, "so, you think I want a different guy now, too?" He raised Steve's large hands to his lips, and Bucky kissed those artist's digits. "Steve, would you believe I could never get it up for another guy, either? You're the only one I've ever been excited by in the past. You were always my sweet, beautiful Stevie."
Blushing, Steve smiled softly at Bucky, "really?"
"Steve, when I saw you in that factory, I was confused and thought I'd gone totally insane. It was the first time I'd actually seen and touched what I always thought of when I was near you. You finally looked . . . right. Like I always thought you should." Bucky pulled him close, hand wrapping around the back of Steve's neck so their breaths mingled as their faces were only millimeters apart. "Maybe I'm weird, always loving you and being with you when I thought somehow you were so tiny and delicate, no matter how beautiful you were. But it finally seemed to fit, baby. You. Are. What. I. Most. Desire." Bucky kissed Steve with each word, to emphasis it.
Steve beamed, kissing Bucky again; the blond breathed, "I love you, Bucky, I love you so much."
"And I love you more each time I breath in or out, Stevie." Bucky smiled. "So, any more questions, Cariad? I'll answer anything you want."
Shaking his head, Steve smiled and pressed their lips together again.
xxx
Continued in Chapter Twenty-Five: when written