Independence Day dawned, the heat around the base rising as the sun did. It hovered around the Rogers house as well, though it was cool on the inside. However, for the couple dwelling within, they would not stay in it. Having squirreled their way out of attending any formal functions for the date the previous year due to their honeymoon, Holly and Steve had conceded to the planned day's events that were to happen at the base. Due to the efforts of the agents, and to a number of the organizations that worked in conjunction with the team, a sort of picnic and grill-out was scheduled for the afternoon and evening. A few sponsored booths were to be set up in the field near the base, tents set up for shielding against the glare of the sun and to house other forms of entertainment, despite the holiday being on a Monday that year. On the positive side, they were not forced to wear formal clothing, as they had in D.C. two years ago; she would have hated swelling up and sweating to death if she had been forced to do so. No, the cotton maternity dress she picked would do well enough, though she wished she could talk Steve into wearing a pair of shorts (it was an absolute crime to hide his legs, in her opinion, but he still overrode her objections and put on the khakis he'd picked. At least she got him into the button-up tee without issue).
The set-up, under the direction of Maria and Sam, had gone smoothly that morning, with relatively few bumps on the road. Food stations were primed and ready to go, hired helpers getting a start on it. A good portion of the adult were indulging in the beverages provided, those not on mission indulging in play as baseballs, footballs, and frisbees were tossed around. Music pumped over a stereo system, some ballads interspersed with rock and pop standards from a laptop hook-up nearby. A good number of the agents were already roaming the grounds by the time they had arrived, the office workers who had remained in the area mingling as well as they parked and made their way over to the festivities. Red, white, and blue bunting dotted the shaded areas, tables and chairs wrapped in patriotic splendor as well. Taking her hand in his, Steve led Holly over to the one claimed by the team, each one greeting them pleasantly in turn. Not all of them could be there, of course; Tony had sent his well-wishes, but would remain in the city with Pepper and Rhodey, and Scott had taken some time off to see his daughter for the holiday, but the majority of them were present.
And there was a decent amount of children running around, more than Holly had assumed there would be. It would have been ignorant of her to suppose that none of the people working for the Avengers had families of their own, but she had not thought so many of them would. So many of them were putting aside their roles as technicians, scientists, agents, to simply be mothers and fathers that day. With young children, at that. A hoard of little ones under the age of ten (future friends for hers? She hoped so). Little kids ran around with streamers and bubble wands, painted shields and other toys in their grasps as they weaved in and out of the adults. Some of them broke free of their parents, running up to their favorite Avengers and begging for signatures, for hugs, for them to join in the fun with them. It was amusing and delightful, watching the battle-hardened members being drawn into games of tag and hide-and-seek. Wanda, despite the stand-offish nature she exuded, seemed to take great joy in chasing kids around in Duck-Duck-Goose (Duck-Duck-Grey Duck, her stubborn brain corrected). Even Bucky was approached, with Natasha never too far behind, the kids fascinated by "the guy with the metal arm" and how good he was at being the seeker. Kay, who had decided to stay in the area as well, joined her, dark eyes bright and seemingly happier than she had been in months. Tapping her arm, the blue-haired woman pointed and laughed as Sam was inevitably dog-piled by a few boys who had wanted to toss a football around. It warmed her heart even further when she turned and watched Steve get ringed by a group, one of the smaller ones tugging on his hand and asking something. The small grin as he bent down, nodded and gave his answer, made her smile, hands bracing along her pregnant swell and fueling images of her husband as the father he would become in a few short weeks. Spying a few of the mothers, some of them expectant just like her, she thought it would be best to speak with them, gauge their own personal reactions to pregnancy. To their families changing, and their lives becoming entirely different from what they were before.
Before that could happen, though, she heard the tap of a microphone through some hastily assembled speakers around an hour into the endeavor. Glancing over, she spotted Sam as he held it up to his lips, barking out greetings and gaining the attention of those gathered. Beside her, she felt Kay stiffen, catching the slight smirk that danced across her lips as she looked out the corner of her eye. Wilson's innocent expression was off-set by the devious glint in his eye, the wry turn of his lips as he called attention to the fact that it was not merely a celebration of the country's independence that they were remarking upon, but a birthday as well. Gaze widening, Holly had to stifle her laughter when she spotted Steve's aghast expression as he realized what was happening. The children around him started to tug at his hands, pull him forward as Sam waved them on, directed them to a table in the center of the area. In the midst of the hubbub and play, he and the others on the team had managed to sneak a massive sheet cake out of the base, complete with candles already placed in it. At Kay's prompting, Holly was brought out of her seat, meeting him halfway. An eyebrow spiked as she stood at his side, a suspicious glint in his baby blues. Struggling to keep her composure, she merely cupped a hand in the air. The details, such as the art nouveau shield design on the cake, were left to the others; she had simply given her approval, or so she would claim later on.
He knew that she wouldn't let his birthday go unremarked upon; none of them would let that slide.
Taking the lighter from Sam when it was proffered, she implored the children to back up, not wanting them to get burned as she lit the candles. Soon enough, the heat of the flickering flames were rising to join the summer swelter, prompting them all to engage in a round of the birthday song before much longer. Pink burned the tips of Steve's ears, but he managed a smirk as the crowd around him cheered at the end and shouted for him to blow them out.
"What'd you wish for?" she teasingly whispered under the applause, gladly going into her husband's embrace when he had finished. A chuckle rumbled in his throat, the arm around her waist tightening as he held her.
"I didn't. I have what I want already," Steve replied, giving her a peck on the lips, much to the disgust of the boys and girls still ringing them. The parents near at hand gathered up their children, admonishing them for their behavior and getting them into a messy queue for cake distribution. At once, the Avengers at hand gathered closer to the table, starting to pull candles and prepare the treat for cutting.
"Happy birthday, old man," Sam said, turning the microphone off and swooping in to do his part. Nudging Steve with his elbow, he continued, "Ninety-eight and counting."
The blond man merely grunted, the smirk on his face not dimming in the slightest. For her part, Holly snorted.
"Chronologically," she said. Off the looks being shot at her, she shrugged and pointed out, "If you're going by physical and mental age, he's about thirty-two."
She let that sink in for a few seconds, the music resuming in the background filling the space.
Steve shot her a wink as he retrieved the knife that was resting nearby. "Roughly."
"Whatever justifies it, right?" Bucky grunted, the shadows in his blue eyes lifting as he smirked across the table at them, helping Natasha prep the paper plates.
"Like you have any room to talk, Grandpa Barnes," Holly snarked back, the corner of her mouth lifting as she cut a glance between him and the redheaded woman to his left. Not perturbed in the least, he let his smile truly grow then, and dipped his head. Slowly, the cake was cut and distributed to all who wished to indulge, the afternoon's events resuming around them. Laughter and play of the children continued, Holly wandered over to a few of the mothers, determined to not allow herself to be exclusively isolated, and the female Avengers dispersed as well. The remaining males were left to their own devices, a baseball retrieved and tossed around as they got more food and drinks. The remaining male Avengers, plus the android who identified as such.
The Vision's electric blue eyes scanned over the crowd, the skies, spotting no trouble. Tapping into the security systems (as was his habit), he found that all was well in and out of the facility. A few clouds rolled over, and there were a few people darting off towards the trees of the surrounding woods, but there was no danger to be had. Boisterous humans aside, it was rather...peaceful. In comparison to his first, at least. The previous year had been nothing but confusion and bursting rockets overhead, the wonder of it being how anyone could stand that amount of noise even for such a short time.
Still, it was tolerable, as a certain auburn-haired young woman had distracted him with her own trite observations.
"Another Fourth of July," Sam proclaimed, drinking directly from the beer bottle he had fetched earlier. Lifting it in a mock toast, the others tipped their chins in acknowledgment. For his part, the Vision glanced sideways at him.
"Astute assessment of the date," he muttered, softening the words with a slight grin. Steve smirked into his own cup as his friend met his gaze (Barnes had long since disappeared, but the Vision had tracked him to be somewhere on the property, at least).
"Caustic observations from the android," Wilson stated, a hint of pride in his tone. Raising his cup, he saluted the Vision. "You've come a long way, pal."
The android in question cupped a hand in the air. "I suppose this is one of those instances where social norms dictate I nod and let the comment go unremarked upon?"
Rogers flicked his gaze to him, bemusement decorating his features. "Generally, yes."
Sam chuckled under his breath, taking another sip of his drink. "He's come a long way, and yet, at the same time, hasn't changed a bit."
"That would imply the need," an accented voice cut in, causing the Vision to latch his attention onto the intruder. No, not an intruder, not at all, he corrected himself as he stared down at Wanda Maximoff. The young woman was, for once, not arrayed solely in dark colors. Pleased that her attire would not cause her to overheat, he almost missed her quiet request. "Can we talk for a moment?"
Unaware of the sets of eyes darting between them, he tilted his head in confusion.
"But we are already...oh," he exclaimed, belatedly understanding what she was truly asking. Dipping his chin, he proceeded to follow her across the grounds, the murmurs of his fellows echoing in his head as he went. The shouts and crows of the gathered people melted as they made their way into the base, stopping just inside the long hall on the ground level. Cautiously, the Vision examined her, noting that nothing was amiss, physically—not even a thread was loose on her pale green blouse. Linking his hand behind his back, he waited for her to speak, watching as she twisted her hands together and focused out the wall of windows. Nervous, anxious, but why? Time to gather adequate data, he supposed. "What did you want to talk about, Wanda?"
Jarred out of her reverie, she focused on the rings on her fingers, twisting them idly as she gathered her thoughts.
"Just...I have realized that there is a lot I have never really thanked you for," she told him, causing him to blink. She wanted to thank him, and that was all? He suspected there was more to it, but he deemed it necessary to not interrupt. Wanda, he had found, was forthcoming with answers if one merely gave her the time to express them. "You've really have been a good friend to me over the last year, to start with. Even with everything that had happened. With who I am."
Inwardly, he pondered her words. Ever since his birth, he had known of her, but it took rescuing her and coming into the team's fold to truly know her. Despite the simple trappings—young woman, sister, Avenger—there was more to Wanda than met the eye, and he was not simply considering her powers. The little things, the way she chose her words, deliberated over moves, the indulgences she gave him and the laughter that followed, those were not easily gleaned. He had learned of them, though. He had given her the chance to show him, just as she had given him the chance to grow beside her.
"As you have with me," he returned, unable to stay silent any longer. Focusing on a point over her head, he muttered, "Perhaps it should be me thanking you. You've taught me so much, Wanda. So many things that I may have been able to find out on my own, but did not have to."
A devilish smile graced her lips. "Like how much paprika is too much for mushroom soup?"
Ruefully, he grinned back, ducking his head almost bashfully. "Yes, among other things."
"Still, I wanted to find the time to thank you. Properly," she stated, her voice lowering somewhat, as if she feared being overheard. Despite himself, the Vision mirrored her as she stepped closer, drawn into the seriousness of her gaze. "For everything you've done for me. I'm sorry it had to wait for so long, but I wanted to be sure."
The Vision leaned forward a bit, his head canting in denial. "It was no trouble, really. I'm always happy to—"
He was unprepared for what had come next, as rose upon her toes. The press of her lips to his manufactured ones took him aback, all sensors and synapses in his system firing off at once. His eyes widened, his pupils dilating as she did so. And somewhere, deep within, he felt it. That...electrical impulse, the one that had been there since the first time they'd spoken, since they had come together as teammates and tentative friends, much stronger now than it had been in those days. In the blink of an eye, every moment of their interactions, ever dinner made, every training session, every instance of her presence meeting with his came rushing to the fore, and, and...it was beyond his imagining. And in the blink of an eye, it was over, Wanda pulling away from him before he had the chance to properly respond. Looking down at her, he spotted her blown pupils, the aura of scarlet burning out in place of the sliver of green irises. Deep breaths rocked her chest into his, her warmth increased despite his cool touch. Touching his fingers to his lips, he could not help but stare down at her, wide-eyed...and wanting.
"You kissed me."
Her thumb stroked over his jaw, and she nodded, unashamed. "Yes. Yes, I did."
"But I am...and you are..." he struggled to explain, struggled to adequately express himself. There were so many reasons why what had happened, should not have happened. That it was beyond his capabilities, that he was unable to return her affections. And yet, it had happened, and he did feel for her. He felt, and it was because of her. Her hand came up then, cupping his cheek, the matching mix of emotions in her face bringing him out of his mind.
"I know," she said, firm and unwavering. Still, she stood there, looked upon him and the uncertainty of their lives, and reached out for him. Carefully, she swallowed, her palms going to his shoulders and knitting into the fabric of his shirt. "We can figure it out, one step at a time."
Slowly, carefully, he reached up, loosening her grip on him. However, instead of dropping them, he found his fingers lacing with hers, the synthetic feel of his grip mixed with her flesh awakening him further.
"I...would like that," he told her, meeting her hopefulness with his own. "Very much."
Smiling broadly, Wanda nodded, stretching up again to peck his lips. That time, he was prepared to respond, the whirs and clicks inside his head rocketing faster than he had ever known them to before. The heat in his circuits jumped, and if he had a heartbeat, he knew it would have been thumping along with hers—which he could hear as he curled his arms around her and held her tightly. Several long minutes passed before the embrace was broken, the younger Maximoff taking the Vision's hand and walking them out of the hall, out onto the field again. Unbeknownst to them, an audience had stumbled upon their private discussion, a pair who had been just as intent to find some time to themselves in the midst of the afternoon's events. Hidden further up the hall and between the beams, the intruding pair watched it all unfold, blinking when the android and the young woman walked away, hand in hand. When the door to the outside clicked into place, the redhead leaned back against her own lover, his metal and flesh arms curling around her as they both let out slow breaths.
"That is an interesting combination," Natasha noted with amusement. However, there wasn't a trace of surprise in her voice. She had suspected for quite some time that the Vision and the Scarlet Witch would progress to that point, having been fussing around each other for well over a year. Still, it was one thing to speculate, and another to see the evidence with her own eyes. Bucky's chest filled, pressing into her before he let the deep breath out.
"No more interesting than us," he whispered, his grasp tightening the slightest bit. Smirking to herself, Natasha turned around, looping her arms around his neck.
"Suppose you might be right," she agreed, reclaiming the private moment for themselves and kissing him soundly. With the training and the mission work resuming, with him being prepped to take over the role Steve was leaving behind, it did not leave them much time to be together. She understood how seriously he was taking his change in leadership, in shaping himself up to adequately represent the name he would be bearing, and she did not begrudge him that. Still, she savored those quiet, unbroken moments when they could steal them, glad to have him all to herself for a spell. Fingers tangled into her hair, angling her head so he could kiss her deeply, the other arm locking her curves against him. Breaking apart to catch their breath, he braced his forehead against hers, swallowing with a little difficulty.
"Well, nice as this is, I think we've been away for long enough," he murmured, haltingly removing his arm from around her back. Giving her the chance to step away, he beamed brightly as an impish glint reflected across his gaze. "Don't want them getting suspicious, sugar."
Rolling her eyes, she still grinned as she took his hand, following the path of their compatriots out into the open field and rejoining them. It was true, Bucky had had ulterior motives when he dragged Natasha away from the gathering, requiring her help with a sort of delivery. Specifically, requiring her skill at overriding access points to allow him to make said delivery. With the task completed, there was nothing left to do but execute the second part, which involved sending Wilson inside at his request. The other man, whose only part of the plan was to make the initial discovery, had eyed them warily, but went along with it.
That, however, did not happen for at least a couple more hours, when the activities of the day were starting to wind down. Holly had taken a seat again, water in hand as Kay sipped a beer in her honor, the two women discussing favorite attributes of television characters ("Yeah, I mean, Sam's got the puppy-dog eyes, but have you seen Dean?"). Anything to get some of the horror stories that some of the expectant mothers had shared with her out of her mind. She wasn't sure if talking about a pair of brothers who regularly splashed supernatural blood and gore was any better, but at least she wasn't inwardly panicking about whether or not her labor would end similarly. Before she could further elaborate her favoritism for the one with light eyes and a martyr complex, she found the plastic chair beside her being occupied. It was Steve, a wrapped present now settled in his lap. It was decently sized, red paper and gold ribbon surrounding it. Tilting her head to the side, she stared at it.
"What is that?" she wondered, catching the flicker in his irises and stemming his remark swiftly. "No smart-ass answers, please."
The smarmy grin on his face bled back into contemplation, and he lifted a shoulder.
"It was left in the doorway of my office. Sam brought it out for me, didn't want me to leave it behind."
Holly hummed under her breath. She knew that his friends had gotten him a few presents, but those had been gathered in a box and hidden in the downstairs closet days ago. She couldn't have missed one, could she?
"That narrows it down to about ten people who could've dropped it, minus the janitorial staff," she mumbled, inspecting it for a tag and finding none. Spying the eagerness that lay behind the contemplation, she snickered at him. "You didn't want to check the security tapes?"
"It cleared the scans, apparently," he said, sliding a finger under the ribbon on the side. It calmed the spark of fear that spiked through her a few seconds ago, though she continued to eye it distrustfully. His half-smile cropped up, and he went on, "I decided it could afford to be a surprise."
Well, if he wanted that, far be it from her to take it away from him. Canting her head, she flapped her fingers at the present, shooing him onward.
"You gonna open it or not?"
"Alright, bossy," he chided her jokingly. Carefully prying the tape away, he lifted off the wrapping paper, setting it off to the side as he examined the box in his hands. "It's...oh, geez."
The exuberance on his face drained slightly, while Holly barely managed to clamp a hand over her mouth. Several seconds passed before she felt she was stable enough to speak again, Kay spiking an eyebrow but not saying anything.
"It's a fondue pot. Huh," she announced, struggling to keep the corners of her mouth still. The tremor of laughter quavered in her throat as she looked upon the gift. Back when they had first started dating, when they inevitably had to discuss sex and whether or not they were ready for it, Steve had referenced it in a...somewhat non-conventional way. Evidently "fondue" had quite a different meaning to him, one that his friends back in the day took delight in teasing him with on occasion. However, Holly was not aware of another person nowadays who knew what that meant. No one, except for...
She glanced up at Steve, watching as his eyes narrowed. Looking over, she caught Bucky Barnes giving them both a clipped nod, his face impassive as he sipped from a red Solo cup. She detected the hint of a smirk playing around his lips as he drank, but could not confirm it. Her husband, however, could.
"Bucky," he grumbled under his breath. Setting the box down between their chairs, he rose up. "Excuse me."
Her eyebrows inclined, and she snatched at his wrist. The look on his face was one she recognized all too well; she had seen it on her brother's face, on her sister's, when she'd pissed them off and were about to make her pay for it. She had no doubt in her mind that Steve was about to do the same for his best friend.
"Where are you going?" she asked him, more as a courtesy and an invitation to change his course at the last second. He patted her hand briefly, a small, strained grin twisting his mouth as he pulled away from her.
"Just gonna have a little chat with 'im."
"Steve..." she tried to stop him, sighing under her breath as he merely held up a one-minute finger and kept walking. Kay shook her head, flapping for her to go after him silently. Rolling her eyes, she scooted forward in her chair, pushing herself up. Grabbing a nearby water bottle and following him with a wearied expression, she muttered, "Might as well get ringside seats."
It took her a few moments to catch up, but by that time Steve and Bucky had moved past the verbal debate and were taken turns slapping at each other. It escalated into grappling, with Bucky wrapping an arm around Steve's neck and getting him into a headlock. His free fist, the metal one came down, grinding into the blond man's hair with rebukes about "getting over it" falling out of his mouth.
"Good to know noogies are timeless," Natasha said out the corner of her mouth when Holly paused beside her. She should have known that Bucky was going to try and do something like this, had suspected it to be the case, but had let it happen, anyway. Oh, well, nothing for it now, she told herself. The two women, along with the others nearby, watched as the commander thrust his hands up and broke the headlock. Swiftly, he tackled the new captain to the ground, each now attempting to pin the other and make him eat dirt. For her part, the ex-assassin looked utterly unimpressed, sipping from both her cup and the one her companion had abandoned. "Wonder when they'll move onto wedgies."
Shaking her head, Holly shrugged a shoulder. "These are grown men, leaders and soldiers. One is the father of my unborn child."
Natasha raised her cup, tipping her chin as Steve managed to plant a knee on Bucky's back, driving him down. Both women winced, and the others around them crowed out in sympathy.
"And yet, both are still eternally five years old," she groused, a finger rubbing at her temple. Suddenly, a bunch of the younger children had found a second wind, the ones still playing around the field rushing over and piling on top of the two wrestling men. At once, Steve separated from Bucky, letting himself be tackled and pinned, his grunts turning into loud laughs. The brunet man was less encumbered by the kids, but he had a fair share of them trying to engage him.
"We've picked well, haven't we?" the brunette to her right mused, the deadpan expression on her face giving way to a small smile. Arching a perfectly-shaped eyebrow, Natasha looked over as Bucky extended his hand to his friend, both of them sharing a clap on the shoulder as they started herding the children back to their parents. Catching her eye, he let his expression gentle further, the false gruffness for the kids melting the tiniest bit. A sweet, bitter twist wrenched at her heart, but she could only allow herself to swallow and grin back at him.
"Arguably...yes," she agreed, her grin becoming more genuine as Holly tapped her water bottle against her cup in a salute. Their alliance was further solidified as they drank, the final toast given as the Independence Day shenanigans wore down. All things considered, they had chose well, she told herself as the evening started to fall. The families started to disperse, separating to go into the nearby town for any fireworks displays (for those who could tolerate them), the clean-up being relegated to happen the following morning. As a metal hand threaded with hers, pulling her out and away from the others again, she mentally noted that she could not let herself forget how well she had done for herself, despite everything.
xXxXxXx
The ring of gunfire echoed in his ears, but he did not pause in his offensive push. Ducking, he slid underneath a trashed truck, coming out on the other side relatively unscathed. Raising his shield, he deflected the bullets as they followed him, the sparks of ricocheting metal flashing as they landed and flew away. Harrumphing, Captain America shuffled in his crouch, bright eyes darting around the terrain. The grunts left on the ground level were the last of the squad he had chosen to take down himself, the other Avengers grouped up elsewhere in the facility. The smell of dirt and blood wafted into his nose, combining with the metallic, artificial smell of the guns that were turned onto him and the smoke of the Jeep flaming several feet away. They were hidden well, the shadows of the night concealing all but the spit of their guns. It was a sticky position to be in, but he had no other choice at the moment.
Bucky would find a way out of it, he had to. There was too much riding on the situation for him to call a forfeit. Not that he would, anyway, but it was making things difficult.
However, difficult had been what he was expecting from the get-go, since Steve had called them all in for an emergency conference that Friday afternoon.
"Got a situation cropping up in Eastern Europe," the new commander had reported bluntly as they all gathered. The high definition display on the wall behind him lit up, the photo of a two-story, whitewashed building flickering into view. Accompanying shots of darkly-dressed insurgents flitted after it, heavy machinery and weapons at their disposal as they were fortifying the entrance of the place. It appeared to be situated in a downtown area, putting the surrounding neighborhood at risk. Barnes frowned as he realized that the potential for casualties had risen, one the Steve mirrored. "Evidently, some of Zemo's army didn't get the memo two months ago."
"Details?" Bucky asked on behalf of the team, arms crossed and seriousness in his pose. There, Maria stepped up beside the commander, the delivered intelligence from the helicarrier and some of the spies across the pond in hand. It appeared that a contingent was being housed in case the initial wave in May had been broken, a squadron poised to continue Zemo's good work. With most of Chapman's team scattered around on separate missions, it was up to them to head into Romania, corner the dissenters in their hideout (Barnes found himself thanking the powers that were for the spies that Fury had sent out after them), and take care of them once and for all. It would not be the end of it all, by any means, but once the final band of troops were squashed, the other matters of the world could be attended to. Absorbing the information presented, Bucky listened with half an ear as Rogers gave orders.
"Call-ins every fifteen minutes, drones will be patched and on standby. Chapman's team will be alerted and called in for back-up, as well as Tony. Get in, take 'em out, and go," he instructed, the baritone of his voice unyielding. Tipping his head in Bucky's direction, he murmured, "Any further instructions will be given as-needed by the captain."
After a beat of silence, the others nodded their compliance. The title, despite having been used and applied to him during training sessions for the past four weeks, was still jarring even to him. It was the first time it had been used outside those sessions, outside the minor missions he had taken in between. It was time now, to step into the role that had been bequeathed to him; this mission marked the beginning of the new era. He only hoped he would not start it off on a sour note.
Uncrossing his arms, Steve gestured towards the door, his stoic expression unwavering.
"Go to it, Avengers."
Thus dismissed, Barnes jogged down to the uniform lock-up, silent as the others went to suit up as well. Stepping inside the small space, he stared at the armor that had been constructed for his new role. Unlike Steve, who had taken to an actual armored appearance, he had work with the designers to select a sleeker look for his suit. The titanium weave within the microfiber was thin, but it held up remarkably well in testing. It was the same microfiber that was used for the Hulk's pants, though altered enough to deflect bullets and knives as opposed to sizing up and down. Midnight blue from chest to greaves, red and white panels crossed down his stomach. Chest to shoulders was navy, a white star with points extending to the edges of a circle provided extra protection. Instead of a separate helmet, he had chosen an attached masked cowl, comm links woven into it and settling directly over his ears as he pulled it up. Once he gotten changed (and made sure the A on the cowl was centered on his forehead), a belt pack was fitted around his hips, parts for a collapsible rifle secreted away as well as other odds and ends. High holster on, followed by boots and gloves, knives hidden inside greaves and gauntlets. Lastly, he palmed the polished disk hanging from the hook on the wall. The shield, Steve's shield, had been passed into his care the week prior, the true surrender of the old to the new. Carefully, he lifted it away, gloved fingers clasping its edges, a steadying breath taken before he swung it around to attach to the magnetic harness. For a few seconds, he stared into the small mirror adorning the far wall.
While he did not look much like Steve, he knew that he did look the part of the captain now. And from that point on, he would have to act the part, too.
Stepping out of his locker space, he met the eyes of his teammates, all waiting for him to move as one. To move out together, as a new team.
"You ready, Captain America?" the Black Widow inquired, the lines of her suit fired up and glowing crimson. Beside her, the Scarlet Witch arched a brow, Ant-Man and the Falcon tugging pieces of their uniforms to sit correctly. The Vision, his cape swirling about him, met his gaze unabashedly, and the frissons of doubt and fear that had crawled into his heart were stemmed. Forcibly, Bucky drew himself to his full height, nodding at his compatriots.
"As I'll ever be," he intoned mildly. Lifting his chin, he blinked once before stepping forward, leading the way to the elevator that would take them to the landing platform. "Let's go."
Despite the gravity of the situation, he felt Natasha slip her hand in his as they rode the conveyance, her facade not solidifying again until they were in the quinjet and away. And they went, right into the heart of battle. The goal was to put down the remaining resistance, and they were to do just that. Barnes had insisted that the Vision assist Sam with sweeps, take out an aerial fighters or snipers from the rooftops as he went. Wilson would do that duty, as well as accompany Scott on the ground as they moved in from the west, the women coming in from the east. Having chosen to drive up the middle, Bucky was able to catch those who spilled out of the hide-out, driving the off-shoots either left or right into the others. Thus far, the plan was working, call-outs made in between slinging the shield and using the weapons he had on hand.
Which brought him to that moment, to him crouching low behind a truck that provided little cover. Flicking his eyes around, his memory flashed, images of a prone captain on a road deflecting enemy fire back at his opponents. Taking a page out of Steve's book, he began to angle the shield ever so slightly, the rebounding shots finally repelled back at the attackers after a few moments of trial and error. Realizing their maneuvers were being used against them, the gunfire ceased, providing Barnes with an opening. At once, he sprang to his feet, running full tilt at the first crop of recruits. Hopping into their nest, legs and arms swinging as the shield caught the wild punches and kicks of the enemies.
"If anyone's free, could use some back-up here!" he cried out, a solid punch landing on one guy's jaw. Another insurgent locked an arm around his throat from behind, and his choked growl reverberated in his chest. Preparing to drive an elbow back, he felt the man behind him stiffen, his grip loosened as he fell to the ground. Another set of hands clapped onto his shoulders, dropping him down into a crouch.
Looking to his left, he was met with ocean-colored eyes, lit up by a confident smile.
"I'm always free, Cap," Natasha teased, hair pushed out of her face before tapping his arm, "as well you know."
He smirked; apparently, the troops she and Wanda had gone after were subdued, enough so that she could be near at hand to help him out. But the remark on the tip of his tongue vanished as another hail of gunfire spat around them. Raising the shield again, he hooked one hand backward, his body sheltering Nat as the roars of the insurgents cracked along with the shots. Out the corner of his eye, he witness the Vision swooping down, plowing headfirst into the second bank, disarming them with alacrity. Immediately, Bucky rose and started running again towards the final wave, Natasha on his heels. Guns were raised again, but few shots were fired before Captain America and the Black Widow leaped upon them. His sidearm came to hand, a few rounds of his own cutting through the air and embedding themselves into the armor of the fellows. As one, he and Natasha fought back to back, complementing jabs and kicks joined by the slashes and shot of their blades and guns. A knife was thrown, glancing over his arm. The slit allowed the gleam of his metal appendage to show through, the insurgent's eyes widening as he tried to comprehend what he was looking at. Taking advantage of his microscopic confusion, Barnes flung the disc, the rebound of it off the fellow's body driving it into the nearby wall (he reckoned Steve would have been pleased; his weeks of training had yielded good fruit). The last man down, the ring of the gunshots petered away, and he allowed himself to breath. Silently, Bucky crossed the field, retrieving the shield he had thrown. The vibranium disc was swung onto the magnetic holster on his back, and he unhurriedly allowed the empty clip from his gun to drop, reloading it with ease. The gesture went a ways to calm the fire inside him, reorienting him back into the present moment.
"Everything's locked down, Captain," the Falcon called down the line, a final sweep cut through the air above him, the designated drones fluttering around as well. The minute crackle of the others tapping in, the reports of the stragglers being rounded up echoing after his announcement. "Waiting on orders."
Bucky's gaze darted across the courtyard, the fallen around him either unconscious or too broken to even wish to move. Meeting the Vision's eye, he nodded for the android to start rounding up the downed troops, the flicker of the flaming Jeep dancing over the spatter bruising on his exposed jaw. Natasha, taking deep breaths, canted her head, communicating without words that she would also start to process the new prisoners. Inhaling deeply, he bent an ear out, the distant shouts and screams having quieted significantly. Wilson flew overhead once more, and he let his breath out through his nose.
"Alright, everybody. Let's get this place cleaned up," he crowed over the line, instructing the others to begin restraining the captured. His heart thundered in his chest as he paged through to Hill and Rogers, informing them of the situation's conclusion. The battle, his first as Captain America, was over. However, the job was not finished, and so he took another step forward, determined to meet with his team and finish it.
xXxXxXx
Leaning back in his chair, Steve let out a deep breath. A hand was perched at his ear, tapping into the comm link that he had been connecting with on and off for the last few hours. The training, the mission work, it had all come to this. And Bucky, thank God, did not let him down. He had done a fine job, and it showed as the aerial shots of the Avengers' efforts were forwarded to him. It bode well for the future, he decided, eyes scanning the display one last time, the reporter onscreen talking about the sudden appearance of the team and their work for the day. Flicking off the screen beside him, he cleared his throat and began to speak.
"Good work out there. I expect a full report tomorrow afternoon," he murmured in a low tone, the fingers of his free hand tapping lightly along the edge of his desk. Listening for a moment, he rolled his eyes to the ceiling, a brief smirk playing across his lips before he answered, "You'll be back by one in the morning, you'll have plenty of time to sleep and compile something. Alright, see you then. Call if anything happens."
Tapping out, he glanced to his left, out the glass walls to the hall and windows beyond. Twilight had fallen, the sun having disappeared from the sky. The long day, the first day of his new position, of the new change, was ending. And not with a bang, but with a calm acceptance. For hours, he had been holed up in his office, fielding comm calls and other messages sent in and out. He did his best to keep Joe apprised of the situation as it progressed, followed by status reports made to Stark. In the end, they were not needed, but that was only avoided by the narrowest margin. Another time, they would be called upon, but not that day. Shaking his head, he scrubbed his palms over his face, the relief he had been suppressing starting to flood through. Nodding once, he scooped up the cafeteria take-out container on his desk and tossed it into the trash, the contents long since devoured. Getting up, he strolled over to the low couch set along the far wall, framed by the posters he'd drawn long ago. While he had been stationed at his desk for hours on end, Holly had taken over the sofa. She had been determined to ride out the later hours with him once she had learned of the team's deployment. As there wasn't any truly sensitive material that was part of the mission, she could stay and be able to see it through with him. Once she'd finished with her shift downstairs, she come up with her bag and an offering of food, pointedly setting one in front of him and placing the utensil in his hand to make sure he ate something. Her vigilance, however, had petered down as she was lulled into sleep. Her laptop was resting on the floor, still opened to the Facebook page for her novel. It seemed that she was able to answer some of the messages that had been cropping up over the last few weeks, but had stopped in favor of taking a short nap. Kneeling down (deftly avoiding her own food container as he did so), he brushed back the waves of dark hair that had fallen into her face. The gentle caress roused her, the stir of her underneath his touch making him smile.
"Hey, sweetheart," he said, his voice still low in deference to her waking.
Blinking, she shifted onto her elbow, a palm rubbing at her lids. "Just resting my eyes."
Given how she was giving those breathy snorts she made while in deep sleep, he knew it was more than that. Still, he merely canted his head.
"Well, I hope you're rested enough for the drive home."
Her eyes widened, her feet coming down to rest on the floor.
"Are they done?" she wondered, pulling her phone out of her pocket and checking the time. Had it really only been four hours since she'd met Steve there, offered to stay with him while the team executed the first mission without him? She could have sworn she had just gotten there. Apparently, that wasn't the case.
"They've taken out several of the ringleaders, and they'll be waiting on local law enforcement to pick up the rest. Buck thinks they'll be back in a couple of hours," Steve reported, rising from his crouch to sit beside her.
Holly's body tensed, her eyes searching his as she pondered something else. "And they're all okay?"
"A-okay," he affirmed, followed by a nod. A measure of pride and wistfulness flooded his gaze, and he dropped it to examine the toe of his shoe. "They did just fine."
She expelled a short breath of her own, leaning back into the cushions. "Good, I'm glad."
"Me, too."
Suspended in a moment of quiet, Holly examined her husband as he sat back, his eyes still distant.
"So this all worked. For the most part," she qualified, the success of the transfer and replacement still settling around them.
"It's new, and I'm still adjusting to it, but yeah, it did," he proclaimed, meeting her eye-line again. Catching the wary incredulity on her face, he shot her a wry look as he raked a hand back through his hair. "I won't lie; it's odd to not be out there anymore. To not be what I was made to be."
He paused for a moment, considering his words and touching upon the heart of the matter. The heart that had driven him to make his choices.
"But, then again, what I was made to be wasn't meant to last as long as it had. I was supposed to help end the war, not extend it. And to be honest, it wasn't supposed to be just me." His bright gaze latched onto a point beyond the glass walls of his office, onto something neither of them could see. "It takes more, it takes others. And those others are ready to step up while I step back."
Holly dipped her chin, laying a hand on his bicep and drawing him back to her.
"Not too much of a step back, I hope," she intoned, the playful lilt barely masking the seriousness beneath the inquiry. At once, he shook his head, standing and taking up her hands. Helping her rise, he laced the fingers of one with hers, while the other moved to lay over her belly.
"No. Just going in a new direction, is all," he stated, firmness in his tone. The impassive set of his face broke as he bent down, planted a kiss on her forehead. "I'm good with that."
Another kiss was shared, and then the pair started to gather up their things, intent on heading to their home and getting some proper sleep. However, as they made their way to the elevator embankment, Steve's phone vibrated in his pocket. Furrowing his brow, he raised the device and answered the call.
"Hello?"
"Commander," greeted the fellow at the other end, sounding a little flustered. "A delivery has arrived for you here at the drop-off house."
Rogers raised an eyebrow at thin air. It wasn't the first time he'd ever gotten a delivery call for pick-up (secured lines and special permissions granted between the stationed agent and the members of the base ensuring the safety of those involved), but it was awfully late to be getting one, particularly when they were out as far as they were.
Flatly, he stated, "At 9 PM."
He could almost hear the stationed agent shrug, could almost see his free hand flapping in the air.
"Special delivery, sir," he brushed it off. "It came earlier, and I was gonna inform you before, but, well—"
"That's fine," the commander cut him off. Steve closed his eyes, barely concealing their roll as he did so. Swiftly disconnecting the call, he looked at Holly, her curious expression impossible to miss or ignore. Pocketing his device, he muttered, "Looks like I'm stopping at the drop-off before heading home."
Holly huffed out a breath, her confusion at getting a call so late to go there surfacing, but ultimately they parted in the garage well enough. Admonishments for both to be safe while driving (as was common, they had to go to work separately), Steve waited to get into his truck before he saw her Buick motor out of the space, a weary sigh on his lips as he maneuvered his vehicle down the frontage road, the dust still not settled from her trail. Taking a right rather than a left, he found his way to the package house, the agent there full of apologies and sheets to sign. Evidently, the delivery was far more special than he had let on initially; special permissions needed the commander's signature, and he had to ensure that he had picked it up at the earliest possible convenience. If the mission had not happened, of course he would have gotten in touch, but he had thought it would be best not to disturb Rogers in his work. The words slid over Steve, in one ear and out the other as he signed the multitude of papers, the box actually a crate with firm metal latches on the sides. Hoisting it into the bed of the truck was no issue, but it certainly raised a fair number of questions as to the contents as he drove home. It had passed inspection, passed scans to even be delivered in the first place, so it must have been safe. Still, he hadn't a clue as to what it could be. Pulling up his driveway, he had no answers to give as he parked, removing the crate and manhandling it through back door of the house after disarming the security. He was just pushing it to sit squarely on the center island as he heard Holly's footsteps across the floorboards, her clothes exchanged for pajamas and her wavy hair framing her face. Any tiredness she must have felt evaporated as she stared at the box, meeting Steve's lifting shoulder with a few blinks.
"What is it, do you think?" she asked, coming around to his side as she hesitantly brushed a finger over the crate. Her husband merely canted his head, biting the inside of his cheek as he continued to stare at it. Spotting a plastic envelope sleeve, she tapped it, waiting as Steve withdrew the card tucked inside. A stamped seal of a panther adorned one side, reflecting the light as he turned it over. A shot message stood out against the creamy stock, elegant script catching the eye.
In commemoration of your birthday and your promotion. Many happy returns, Commander.—T'Challa
Steve's surprise surfaced as he glimpsed the signature on the card. To his knowledge, T'Challa was busy with stabilizing his kingdom after the death of his father, his Avenging duties put on hold for a minimum of three months. He would take on Kate Bishop's role as the permanent on-call person for the secondary team; fortunately, the female archer was poised to start her tenure there as it was, and would be able to fill in. They could hardly begrudge him his official duties, and so they did not. So it was something of a shock that the king of Wakanda would take the time to send him anything, let alone the box and the card.
Setting the card to one side, his bright gaze slid over the box, to the latches holding the lid in place. Carefully, he opened them one by one, lifting the lid away and propping it against the island. Staring down into the contents, at the items nestled within the packing material, he felt his jaw go slack for a moment. Holly's eyebrows rose at that, and after several long seconds of silence she nudged his arm, jostling him out of his shock. Clearing his throat, he reached into the box, ready to show her what had been sent to him.
"It's, it's a new shield," he breathed, pulling it out with a sort of awed reverence. Holding it out, he allowed Holly to examine it along with him. In shape, it bore resemblance to his stage shield, but was large enough to actually provide adequate protection. The pure vibranium was cool to the touch, and light to hold, even lighter than his old shield had been. It had been painted steel blue, with a star at its center and ringed with a circle of darker blue. Along the outer edges, crimson paint had been applied, the allegiance of the bearer declared when one looked upon it. It had been outfitted to allow magnetic holsters or leather ones to be attached along the back. Utter silence had filled the space between them, with Steve still absorbing the enormity behind the gesture T'Challa had made. The mixture of old and new elements struck him to the core, held him fast as he considered it all. To part with a substantial amount of the metal that had supported his country, to give it away for another's use, showed a level of respect that Rogers was unsure he deserved from the king of Wakanda. Still, he had parted with it, and must have done so gladly, if the note was any indication.
"Stepping in a new direction, eh?" she teased, poking at the centered star. The levity in her tone pulled him out of his haze, and he straightened his spine.
"Well, it doesn't hurt to have a little protection to do so, does it?" he countered, letting playfulness fill his tone as he raised the shield once more, standing tall and proud for a minute or two. Holly shook her head and grinned before shuffling closer.
"No, sir," she responded, her palm flat against the star. His free hand came to rest over hers, quiet acceptance filling them both as they stood suspended in the moment.
A/N:...I can never seem to make chapters short, huh? Well, there was a lot going on here, what with Independence Day, Wanda and the Vision finally becoming a thing (yes, I sneaked in a paprika thing, don't judge me), Bucky taking to his role as Captain America, and Steve acting as a commander for the first time. Feel free to discuss.
I did the math regarding Steve's age, and really, despite his birth date, he is actually in his thirties in the MCU now (mentally and physically). Also, Steve's new shield is more based on one that is used in the more recent comics, from what I have seen of pictures of it. However, that does not mean I approve of what is happening to Steve in said comics, and how badly they are distorting his character. I'm with you, my friends, I don't like it either! I just wanted to use the shield design, that's all. Think of it as reclaiming it and the colors for the good side in this piece, in this universe where Steve will not be touched or changed in that way. :) I just hope that something as simple as design and colors won't put anyone off this story for good, or becomes the sole focus of the story/chapter...:-S
Edging ever closer now, ever closer...I bet you can guess what may be happening in the next chapter. ;)
By the way: it's Duck-Duck-Grey Duck. I will argue that point until the day I die.
I own nothing from the MCU, nor do I own any other pop culture references made in the text (Marvel comics, Facebook, Supernatural, etc.).
Happy Valentine's Day, everybody. Have fun, eat chocolate, and love yourselves!
Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one!