Bucky usually got to school just in time to dash to his first class, but on Monday morning he arrived early so he could meet Steve before school started.
"Hey," Bucky said, leaning against the locker next to Steve's. He smiled, then self-consciously tugged at his lower lip with his teeth.
"Hey," Steve replied, a slight blush creeping into his cheeks.
"Have you heard anything about Tony?" Bucky asked.
"Howard said it doesn't look like Tony'll need surgery, but the doctors are monitoring him closely," Steve said. "Howard's camped out in Tony's room at the hospital, so I don't think he's going to make it to school today."
"Do they know who took him? What they wanted?" Bucky asked.
Steve shook his head. "Howard thinks Obie - that's his guardian - paid them off, but he doesn't know what they were asking for." He slammed a hand against his locker. "I just want to find who did this and punch them in the face."
Bucky grabbed Steve's hand. "I think the Starks have people for that," he said, only half-joking. "I'm sure they've got everyone on the job." Without thinking, he brought Steve's hand to his lips and kissed it. Realizing what he'd just done, Bucky jerked his hand back and his cheeks reddened.
Steve gave Bucky a curious look and took hold of Bucky's hands. He took a deep breath. "I liked kissing you," he said.
Bucky didn't want to move, for fear of spoiling the moment. "Me too."
"Kept thinking about it last night. Even with everything going on," Steve said.
"Me too," Bucky said. "Want to do it again?" He tugged Steve's hands, pulling him forward into Bucky's personal space. Steve leaned forward. The bell rang. Bucky groaned and dropped his head back against the locker.
Steve smiled. "Rain check?" He let go of Bucky's hands and got his portfolio out of his locker; art was his first class.
Bucky heaved a great sigh and nodded. "I'll see you at lunch?"
"Yeah," Steve said. He slung the strap of the portfolio over his shoulder. They smiled at each other for a moment.
Abruptly, Bucky leaned forward and gave Steve a quick peck on the lips. "Lunchtime," he said, and walked away from Steve before he could do anything else stupid.
AP Russian got out a little late. Bucky loaded up his plate at the pasta bar and made his way over to their usual table. He plopped down his tray and looked around. "Where's Steve?" Gabe pointed across the cafeteria. "Crap," Bucky sighed. He wove through a sea of tables, chairs, legs and backpacks to where Steve stood between Gilmore and a couple of freshmen girls. Steve was face to face with Gilmore, his hands curled, leaning in so their foreheads nearly touched. If Steve had been a cat, his tail would have been thrashing.
"... don't care, they said no, so you better walk away right now," Steve said.
"I was being friendly," Gilmore's face was red with anger. "What, that's a crime now? They should be flattered. Couple a little -"
"Beat it, Gilmore," Bucky said, coming up on Steve's right side. The girls took his approach as a cue to flee. Gilmore shot an angry look at them, but Bucky blocked Gilmore from following them. Bucky had his arms folded across his chest and Steve's hands were clenched into loose fists.
Gilmore looked at the two of them. "Fine," he spat. "I got better things to do."
"Then go do them," Bucky said. Gilmore stalked off. Bucky and Steve watched to make sure he wasn't following the girls and then walked back to the lunch table.
"I didn't need your help," Steve muttered.
"You start a fight in here, you'll get suspended," Bucky pointed out.
"I wasn't-" Steve began. Bucky gave him a disbelieving look and Steve abandoned the denial. "He deserves a punch to the face."
"Do it off-campus," Bucky advised.
Jim sighed heavily when they sat down at the lunch table and handed five bucks to Gabe, who accepted it smugly. "I was sure you'd hit him this time," he said. "Dammit, Barnes."
Bucky eyed the money changing hands. "Didn't know you had money riding on it."
"There's a pool, too. You want in?" Jim said. "Thought I'd go for a little side action, though. I was really feeling it today."
"I'll get him next time," Steve assured him.
"So you two," Jim said, pointing his finger at Steve, and then Bucky, "are you officially a thing now?"
"No," Bucky said, at the same time Steve said, "Yeah." There was a brief pause, and then Bucky said, "Maybe," just as Steve said, "I guess not."
There was an awkward silence for a moment, broken when Bucky looked at Steve. "Yeah, I think we are?" Steve's answering smile was like sunshine. "We are," Bucky told their friends.
Jim held out his hand to Gabe, who returned the five dollar bill with a sigh. "You couldn't've waited until Saturday?" Gabe asked.
"Congratulations," Peggy said quietly, and while it wasn't enthusiastic, it was sincere.
Bucky gave her a grateful smile. "Thanks."
Howard returned on Wednesday and he didn't need to be prompted to talk about the kidnapping. "Someone put disablers on every single car," he told them over lunch. "They bugged Obie's office, the library, the guest dining room, the east study, the west study and the sitting room. We had an ex-CIA guy come in and sweep the place."
"Who did it?" Peggy asked. "How did they get in?"
"Don't know for sure yet. We fired the entire security team and the FBI is investigating them," Howard said. "Working theory is that one of them was bribed to let in the guy who did this."
Steve frowned. "Pretty awful to think someone you trusted did this." Bucky dipped a chicken nugget in ketchup and said nothing.
Howard nodded. "Jarvis is investigating the household staff. Most of them have been with us for years."
"Are there cameras in the house?" Peggy asked.
Howard shook his head. "Outside only, but they haven't turned up anything useful. The video files are only saved for a week and we don't know how long the bugs were there before someone activated the disabler."
"Tony's recovering well, though?" Peggy asked.
"Yeah," Howard said. "The bed rest's driving him batty, though." He managed a small smile. "He tried to program the heart monitor to play poker. Nearly gave the on-duty nurse her own heart attack when the signal cut out."
"We need to do something," Steve said, stabbing his spaghetti with his fork.
"We could send her a bottle of Howard's whiskey," Peggy offered dryly.
Steve shook his head. "About the kidnappers. About the people who did this."
Bucky dropped his chicken nugget and ketchup splattered on the white cuff of his sleeve. "What? Steve, no. That's what the FBI is for."
"Maybe we can do something they can't," Steve said.
"Like what?" Bucky demanded. "Monologue at them? Steve, Tony's home and he's as safe as he can be. The FBI's going after the kidnappers and it's all under control."
"Under control? The people that kidnapped Tony haven't been caught!"
"Who are you now, Nancy Drew?" Bucky asked. "Going to solve a case the FBI can't crack? We don't have anything to go on."
"Actually," Howard said. "Tony's been trying to hack into the FBI database."
Steve looked interested. "He can do that?"
"He's a smart kid," Howard said proudly.
"That's - that's a felony," Bucky said, rubbing the spot between his eyes with his right index finger. "I think that's a lot of felonies."
"We can use that," Steve said. "Howard, get any information you can from Tony. Peggy, your stepdad has law enforcement contacts, right?"
"Might be treason," Bucky said.
"Mostly military, but he knows a couple of people in the local P.D." Peggy said thoughtfully. She flipped open a notebook and wrote fast, neat notes. "I'll find out what I can."
"We should look through social media," Maria said. "Someone could've caught the kidnappers in the background of a selfie or a Vine."
"Good idea," Steve said.
"I can help with that," Gabe said. "There's a lot of ground to cover."
"Me too," Jim said.
"Excellent," Steve said. "Bucky -" He looked at Bucky, who was frowning with disapproval. "Bucky, how about you just hang out and be a wet blanket?"
Bucky's frown deepened. "Steve-"
"You know, you used to be a lot more adventurous," Steve said.
"I think," Bucky said, in a tightly controlled voice, "that it should be pretty freaking obvious that I'm not the same person I was five years ago." He clenched his left fist. Steve looked abashed for a moment, but Bucky continued, "But you still think you're the hero of some adventure story. You think you're going to swoop in and save the day, but if you recall, whenever you tried to play hero, you ended up with the shit kicked out of you and me hauling your ass out of trouble."
Now Steve looked furious. "I'm not the same person I was back then, either. I am not some weak kid!"
"And these are not some back alley bullies!" Bucky's voice rose on the last words. He glanced around the cafeteria and dropped his voice again. "These people are professionals. Killers. They are way above your pay grade." He knew it was useless even as he said the words. Nothing made Steve Rogers cling to an idea harder than someone telling him he couldn't do it. Bucky looked around the table and knew they were all on Steve's side. He crumpled up his napkin and threw it on his half-eaten tray of chicken nuggets. He'd lost his appetite. He stood up. "You're all idiots," he told his friends, who gave him stony looks. "You're going to get people killed. Actually killed, not coming back for the next matinee killed."
"Thank you, Bucky, but we are aware of the difference," Peggy said crisply. "You are under no obligation to participate in this. We've managed thus far without your guidance and I think we may risk doing without it a bit longer." Steve gave her a grateful smile. Bucky fumed.
"Peggy's right," Steve said. "It's not your call."
Bucky twisted his lips and lifted his hands in defeat. Jaw clenched, he picked up his lunch tray and stalked away.
Rehearsal that afternoon was painfully awkward. Steve and Bucky shared every single scene they were in, so they had no choice but to be on stage together. They refused to speak to each other outside of their scripted lines, though, and their anger bled into their performances. Trevor finally dismissed them in disgust and called up Peggy and several other actors to work on the play-within-the-play.
When Brock pulled the car up to the curb, Bucky yanked open the door, dropped into the back seat and slammed the door behind himself.
"Rough day?" Brock asked, from the driver's seat.
"Piss off," Bucky muttered.
"Watch your fuckin' mouth, kid," Brock said.
Bucky snorted.
"You want to talk about it?" Brock asked.
"Not with you," Bucky said.
Brock shrugged. "Fair enough. Want to hit the gym? Spar a bit?"
Punching things sounded good. "Sure," Bucky said. "Why not."
Steve decided to stay around and paint the backdrop he'd designed. He got to watch a bit of the rehearsal while he worked. They were blocking out choreography for a stylized fight scene. Peggy played the leader of the acting troupe in Hamlet and here she played the Player as Hamlet opposite Jacques as the actor playing Laertes. She learned the blocking quickly, but when they ran through the scene with the props, she lunged forward and stabbed with such force that she broke the tip of the sword on his chest.
"This is theater," Trevor reminded her, as Jacques rubbed the spot where she'd stabbed him. "We are here to evoke, entertain and enlighten. Not to injure."
"It's just make-believe!" Steve called out, and Peggy scowled at him.
"I'm really sorry," she said to Jacques.
"It is all right," Jacques said. "I love feeling the touch of a beautiful woman." He gave her a lascivious grin. Peggy slugged him in the arm. Ow, he mouthed at Steve, caressing the spot with his hand. Steve shrugged, completely unsympathetic.
"Again, from the top," Trevor ordered.
Peggy came over to Steve after the rehearsal ended. "Some of us are going to the Excelsior to work on homework. Want to join us?"
"Sure." Steve scratched his cheek, then realized he'd left a smear of brown paint. "Lemme just wash up a bit."
"I'll see you there." Peggy smiled.
Steve joined his friends at the back of the Excelsior Cafe, where they'd pushed a couple of tables together. Maria had her laptop out and Gabe and Jim were on either side of her, discussing something on the screen. Howard had a tiny disc on the table in front of him, hooked up to his laptop. It was about the size of a fifty cent piece. A matching disc sat on the table nearby. It looked like he'd pried the pieces apart.
Peggy had her AP Government book and notes out. Steve sat down next to her. "What are you writing your paper on?" he asked her, taking out his own notes.
"Leviathan and the role of fear in maintaining social unity and civil peace," Peggy said. She tapped her pencil against the spirals of her notebook. "I've got quite a bit about how the English Civil Wars influenced Thomas Hobbes's writing but I need to tie it into modern examples."
"How about the way politicians use the threat of terrorism to convince people to vote away their civil liberties?" Steve suggested.
"That's not a bad idea," Peggy said, scribbling down a note. "What are you writing about?"
"The influence of the Iroquois Confederacy on the writing of the U.S. Constitution," Steve said.
"Are you going to sing?" Peggy teased.
"Only if Ms. Hand gives me extra credit for it," Steve said.
Howard frowned at the disc he was studying and carefully touched one of the circuits with a screwdriver. The lights shut off above them and every laptop and phone in the back half of the cafe went dead.
Cries went up from all the tables. Maria said something absolutely filthy involving Howard's ancestors in anatomically improbable situations.
Howard ignored the outrage and looked around the room to see which electronics were still on. He adjusted another circuit and power returned.
"You should have warned me." Maria gave him a death glare as her laptop rebooted.
"I didn't know what it would do until I tried it," Howard said, unconcerned. "And I needed the data." When his laptop rebooted, he tapped a few keys and pulled up a page of data from the little disc.
"There's something to be said for good, old-fashioned pen and paper," Peggy said to Steve with a smile.
"Comes in handy a lot around Howard," Steve agreed. He opened up a notebook, flipped through it to find a blank page, and found a picture of Bucky that he'd doodled during Lit class the day before. It was a simple profile sketch and showed Bucky watching the teacher with his pencil resting against his lip. Steve frowned at the page and ripped it out. He crumpled it up and dropped it on the table.
"It's a lousy sketch," he explained to Peggy, when she raised her eyebrows.
Peggy picked up the crumpled paper and stretched it out by the corners to get a good look. "I suppose you know more about art than I do."
"He's a self-righteous jackass," Steve told Peggy. "He doesn't get it. I need to help."
"I'm on your side," Peggy reminded him.
"I'm glad," Steve said. "You're really amazing, you know that?"
"I like to think so, but it's good to have outside confirmation." Peggy gave him a rueful smile and pushed the sketch of Bucky towards him. "Bucky's a good guy. You'll work it out." She closed her notebook and picked up her books. "I'm going to see if Maria needs help."
Steve took the sketch back. He smoothed out the wrinkles and looked at it for a moment. Then he folded it carefully in half and tucked it inside his notebook.
Bucky pointedly walked past their usual lunch table the next day at noon and set down his tray with a clatter on a nearby table. He sat down with his back to Steve and their friends. A few minutes later, Howard brought his own tray over to join him. "You're not wrong," he said, after a few minutes.
Bucky put down his burger. "Thank you. Now will you talk some sense into that idiot?" He flipped his hand in Steve's direction.
"You're not getting it," Howard said. "He knows it's dangerous. We all know it's dangerous. But so is not doing anything. You know Peggy's stepdad has a security clearance higher than the president? Suppose someone goes after her? Maria's mom works for the NSA. A lot of people here could be the next target." Howard leaned back in his chair. "But no one's going after a nurse's son and you only care about Steve."
"That's bullshit," Bucky said furiously. "I care about all of you, which is why I want you to stay out of this."
"Look," Howard said. "If we don't find anything the FBI couldn't find, then there's no reason for anyone to bother us. If we find something the FBI can't, then it's worth the risk."
Bucky rubbed his hand over his face. It had a certain amount of logic, from their perspective. But Bucky had a sick suspicion that someone at the FBI already knew who was involved in this and why. His uncle had a way of pulling strings and making deals. What if Tony's probe found something there and stirred up a whole hornets' nest of trouble?
But maybe it should be revealed. Maybe some secrets shouldn't be kept.
Only couldn't someone do it without getting his friends killed? Bucky's head ached.
"We're doing it with or without your approval," Howard said. "But Steve's been sulking like mad since you guys fought, so I figure you join us, he'll be easier to tolerate."
If he helped them, he'd be in on what they were doing. He might be able to steer them away from something dangerous or warn them if they uncovered the worst. Bucky closed his eyes to consider it, but really, there was only one choice. He nodded. Howard gave him a grim smile and clapped him on the back.
Bucky carried his tray over to his friends' lunch table and sat down next to Steve. "You're idiots," he told them. "But you'll be better off with me watching your backs, so I guess if I can't stop you, I'll join you."
"How generous," Peggy said dryly, but Steve's face lit up with a smile.
"Knew you'd come around," he said, and began telling Bucky what they'd gotten so far.
Bucky hoped he'd made the right choice. And that protecting them wouldn't force him to reveal what he'd already done.
Howard texted both Steve and Bucky on Saturday morning with the information. They'd found the location where Tony had been held and planned to visit it that afternoon. Bucky was still saddled with a bodyguard when not at home or school, so he and Steve conferred and worked out a plan. They went to a movie together and Bucky convinced Brock to stay outside the theater and give them a little bit of privacy. Once the lights darkened, Steve and Bucky snuck out the back, where Howard and Peggy picked them up.
They drove to a single family home located in a neighborhood that Peggy described as "rough". Bucky thought it looked sad and neglected. A number of places had faded real estate signs stuck in their front yards and the ones that were occupied had faded paint and untended yards. "According to the FBI records, they kept Tony here," she said. She pointed at the house as they passed it and went to park around the corner.
"Hasn't the FBI already swept the place?" Bucky asked.
"Yes, but it's possible we'll discover something they missed," Peggy said. Bucky found that unlikely, but it seemed like a fairly safe angle of investigation, so he wasn't going to discourage it.
Peggy parked the car a couple of blocks away. The house had a wooden fence surrounding the backyard, white paint faded and peeling. The neighboring houses were empty and tagged with graffiti. It was an isolated place on a street where the people didn't bother asking questions. Bucky could see why the kidnappers had chosen it as a base. Fortunately, this also meant no one was likely to care about a few teenagers poking around. He stepped over an old condom in the yard and thought that local teenagers probably did spend a lot of time in these abandoned places. He couldn't imagine hooking up with someone in a place like this. Seriously, there had to be diseases.
Steve reached over the top of the gate and released the latch. At the back door, they put on rubber medical gloves. Peggy took out a small case, about the size of a woman's wallet, and picked the lock with a couple of lockpicks.
"Where'd you learn to do that?" Bucky asked, impressed.
Peggy smiled. "That's classified."
The back door led into the kitchen, where a garbage can stuffed full of fast food bags had a ripe smell and flies buzzed around it. "I guess kidnappers don't take out the garbage," Howard said with distaste.
"I don't think they planned to stay here very long," Steve said.
But under the smell of garbage, Bucky picked up a distinctive, coppery scent. He grabbed a large knife from a block on the counter.
"Bucky, what the hell?" Howard asked. Peggy pulled a taser from her purse.
"You smell it?" she asked Bucky. He nodded. They pushed open the kitchen door with caution, but no one was in the living room.
No one alive, at least.
Blood pooled around two bodies in front of the television. It looked as though they had been forced to kneel, then shot execution-style in the back of their heads. Howard gagged and threw his arm across his face to cover his nose and mouth. Bucky tasted bile at the back of his throat.
"I'll check the other rooms," Bucky said, turning quickly away from the sight.
"I'm going with you," Steve said. The house had three bedrooms and one bathroom, with small closets, so it didn't take long to verify that no one else - living or dead - was inside the house. One bedroom had bolts driven into the floor with shackles attached and a dirty bucket against the wall. Bucky imagined being chained in that spot, on the filthy carpet that reeked of ancient cat urine and had unpleasant dark blotches staining the carpet. The chains weren't long enough for the prisoner to be able to stand, not even for a short kid like Tony. He must have kicked up a hell of a fuss being trapped like that. Probably why they decided to drug him.
"All clear," Bucky said grimly, when he returned to the living room. Peggy was snapping photos with her phone, while Howard stood to the side, looking rather green. "Going to Instagram those?" Bucky asked, anger seeping into his voice.
She shot him a fierce look. "We are here for evidence," she said, her voice steady, though she looked rather green herself.
"The blood's not dry," Steve said. For that matter, he wasn't looking all that well either. Bucky wondered if he himself looked as sick as the others. "This happened recently. Probably no more than a few hours ago."
"It's a message," Bucky said grimly. "A message to us." The other three turned to look at him.
Peggy frowned. "That seems unlikely. How would anyone know we were coming?"
Bucky's hand brushed against the pocket that held his phone. "I don't know," he lied. "Maybe someone else tapped the FBI database and knew we'd been looking at it."
"We need to call the police," Steve said.
"I can't be here," Bucky said, a thread of panic wrapping around his chest. "I'll get in trouble."
"We're all going to be in trouble," Howard muttered.
Peggy rested a hand on Howard's arm. "I'm sure they won't press charges for trespassing under the circumstances."
"With my uncle," Bucky said. "We snuck out."
"I'll take a few more photos and then we'll take you back to the theater," Peggy decided. "We'll call the police from Howard's place and no one need know that the two of you were here." Bucky looked down, but the filthy carpet wouldn't show their footprints. As long as they didn't step in the blood. He shivered.
"Thanks," Steve said.
"I'm going to wait in the kitchen," Howard declared, and Steve and Bucky saw no reason not to join him.
The ride back to the theater was utterly silent.
"Keep me updated," Steve told them, as they got out of Peggy's car.
"I will," she said.
Bucky and Steve went around to the back entrance of the theater. At the back door, a bored theater employee leaned against the wall, playing a game on his phone. When he spotted them, he straightened up with a guilty look and stuffed the phone in his pocket. "Yo, you can't come in this way," he said. Bucky held out a twenty dollar bill. The guy looked at it, shrugged, and took the money. "All right, whatever," he said, and let them in the door.
Bucky and Steve slipped back into their seats to watch the end of the movie. With his right hand, Bucky slipped his fingers through Steve's and clung tightly to the other boy. He couldn't have told anyone how the movie ended. He just took what comfort he could from having Steve pressed against his side.
Brock closed his textbook and stood up when Steve and Bucky exited the theater. "Did you enjoy the show?" he asked, with a sly grin.
"Best first date ever," Bucky muttered.
Bucky went straight to his room after he got home and sat on his bed for a while, aimlessly playing games on his phone and trying not to remember the sight of two men in pools of their own blood, brains splashed against the wall.
His uncle came home about an hour later. He knocked on the door of Bucky's room. Bucky ignored it. Pierce knocked again, and when Bucky didn't respond, he pushed open the door.
"You bugged my phone," Bucky said, not looking up. He had his legs pulled up to his chest and his arms rested on his knees.
Pierce slipped his hands in his pockets. "Technically, it's my phone. I pay for it," he said lightly.
Bucky tossed the phone to him. "Take it, then. I don't need you spying on me."
Pierce caught the phone and placed it gently on the dresser. "It seems you do. I can't keep you safe if you're going to sneak off and put yourself in the middle of a delicate operation."
Bucky scrubbed his right hand over his face. "I tried to talk them out of it," he said.
"You weren't very persuasive," Pierce said. "Perhaps the message I had delivered will help your words sink in."
Bucky stared at his knees and tried to keep his expression neutral. "Did you have to kill them?"
"The kidnappers? Oh, yes," Pierce said, with a wave of his hand. "Don't worry, they would have been removed in any case. I dislike loose ends." He came over to the bed and sat down. "I'm concerned, James. I want to help you, but you have to talk to me. Your friends are meddling in very dangerous business. You and I can keep them safe, if we work together."
"You want me to spy on them for you," Bucky said bitterly.
"I suppose that's one way to see it," Pierce said. "I'd like to be able to head off problems at the pass before more drastic measures need to be taken. Do you see what I'm saying?"
Bucky did. He nodded.
"Good," Pierce said. He patted Bucky's leg. "Dinner will be ready in about an hour." He closed the door when he left the room.
Bucky dropped his head back against the wall and squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe seeing those bodies would be enough to discourage his friends from their investigation.
"You okay?" Steve asked when he saw Bucky on Monday morning. "I sent you something like twenty texts this weekend."
"Sorry, I lost my phone," Bucky said. He'd actually beaten it to pieces with a meat tenderizer. "Look, I need your help. That's the third phone I've lost this year and I don't want my uncle to know I need another one. Could you give me a ride to the electronics store at lunch?" They weren't supposed to leave campus during the day, but sneaking out wasn't tough.
"Sure," Steve said. He took Bucky's hand in his. "You sure you're okay?" he asked in a low voice. "What we saw on Saturday - that'd shake anyone up."
Bucky gave him a small smile. "I'm okay," he reassured Steve. "About that -"
"You were right," Steve said bleakly. "Someone knew we were coming. We need to back off." Something loosened in Bucky's chest and he felt himself breathe easier. Thank God, Steve was going to see sense and drop this investigation stuff. But Steve continued, "We need to find out how they knew about us before we do anything else."
Bucky dropped his head back against the lockers. "Steve...," he pleaded.
"They're trying to scare us away because they're afraid of what we'll find out," Steve said.
"And if that doesn't work, what next?" Bucky asked. "Who else is going to get hurt?"
"Nobody," Steve said stubbornly. "I'm not letting anyone get hurt. That's the point."
"Jesus, Steve, you can't save the world!"
"I can try," Steve said, setting his jaw. Bucky shook his head. Arguing with Steve was like pounding your head against a brick wall. "Buck, we're not rushing in again. Next time we'll be prepared."
"Sure," Bucky said wearily.
But weeks went by with no leads. They settled back into their school routine: classes, rehearsals and studying sessions at the Excelsior Cafe. Tony came back to school, thinner and paler but recovering well. Two weeks after he came back to school, he set off an explosion on the physics lab that triggered all the fire alarms and sprinklers. They had to sit in the parking lot for two hours while the emergency crew verified that the school was safe. Tony and his friends sat on a low cement wall, clothes drenched and ties scorched, as the fire marshall, the physics teacher and the principal lectured them each in turn.
"That's my brother," Howard grinned, watching them. "Kid's smart." He leaned against his Maserati and took out a deck of cards. "Little bit of poker before we go back to class?" He'd relaxed a lot since Tony came back to school. He hadn't thrown any of his famous parties lately, but he was organizing the Drama Club's annual New York trip. Bucky suspected Howard was planning a few off-Broadway destinations that weren't on the official itinerary. "Do you have a fake ID?" Howard asked him. "I know a guy who does excellent work."
Bucky spent a lot of time in the rec room at Steve's house, where "studying" and "playing video games" both looked remarkably like making out. Steve's mother learned to knock on the basement door very loudly and open it slowly when she called them to dinner.
The theater had an old couch backstage, under a wall covered in hats and next to a rack of wooden swords. Bucky and Steve snuck back there whenever they could, but they weren't the only ones who used it and more than once they'd found it already occupied by Jim and Darcy, or Howard and his latest, or, on one very awkward occasion, Peggy and Gabe.
Bucky and Steve backed out of the room and into the hallway, where Bucky slumped against the wall and sighed dramatically. "You had to get a motorcycle."
"What's wrong with my bike?" Steve demanded.
"It doesn't have a back seat," Bucky pointed out. "Is it too late to swap it for a van?"
"Yes," Steve said firmly. "Why don't you get a van?"
"Because my uncle would still make Brock drive it," Bucky said. "I just wish we could get more time alone." He wrapped his hand around Steve's tie and pulled his boyfriend in for a kiss. Steve kissed back, then stepped in close enough that he was pinning Bucky against the wall with his hips. Bucky thumbed open the first button of Steve's shirt and pushed the collar aside so Bucky could kiss his neck. With his lips only inches from Steve's ear, Bucky whispered, "I really want to have sex with you."
Steve's breath hitched. "Uh," he said, words failing him.
Bucky drew back, suddenly uncertain. "If you don't want to, that's okay," he said quickly.
"No, I do," Steve said, just as quickly. "I really do." Bucky watched as familiar determination took over Steve's features. "I'll find a place," he said firmly.
Three days later, Steve met Bucky at his locker after the lunch bell rang. Half of Bucky's hair had slipped free of his ponytail and it dangled over his face as he struggled to swap out his Russian book for his pre-calculus text without knocking his history book out of his locker, which he'd balanced on top of his photography and chemistry books earlier. Steve stepped in and caught the history book before it could fall. "Thanks," Bucky said.
Steve turned over the book in his hands while Bucky rearranged his locker. "You know that thing we were talking about?" he asked. The top button of his shirt was open and his tie was crooked. Bucky really wanted to kiss that spot on his throat where his shirt gaped open.
"We talk about a lot of things," Bucky pointed out.
"That one particular thing," Steve said. He turned the book over in his hands again.
Bucky took the book and stuck it in his locker. He closed the door and spun the dial on the combination lock. "If we're going to do it, we should be able to say it," he teased.
"Fine," Steve sighed. "You know how we were talking about having sex?"
Bucky flicked his tongue over his lips. "Yeah," he said, his mouth suddenly dry.
"My mom's working a double shift overnight this weekend," Steve said. He licked his own lips. "Do you want to have sex at my house on Saturday night?" He hooked his thumbs in his belt and tried to look relaxed.
"With who?" Bucky grinned. He tried to push his hair back, but it fell into his face again.
Steve narrowed his eyes. "Yourself, probably."
"I'd rather do it with you," Bucky said, eyes drawn again to Steve's open collar.
"Don't be a jackass and maybe you can," Steve said. He reached out and tucked Bucky's hair behind his ear.
"I'm never going to meet those conditions," Bucky said. He tilted his head slightly so his cheek touched Steve's hand.
"Be slightly less of a jackass, then," Steve said. He brushed his thumb over Bucky's cheek and drew his hand reluctantly back.
Bucky let out a heavy sigh. "I'll do my best," he said mournfully.
Steve cast his eyes upward and shook his head. "What am I supposed to do with you?"
"I found some videos on the internet ..." Bucky offered.
"Saturday night," Steve said firmly and gave him a quick kiss before they headed to the cafeteria.
Steve showered, shaved, put on aftershave, put on more aftershave, decided he was wearing too much aftershave and showered again. He tried styling his hair with gel, but it had gotten too long and just flopped down in his eyes. He tried adding more gel until his hair was a sticky mess, at which point he gave up and showered again to wash his hair.
His hair was still damp when Bucky arrived. Bucky had his hair tied back in a ponytail, with a few strands falling forward and framing his face. He wore his leather jacket over a white t-shirt, with stylishly-torn jeans over black combat boots. Steve wore a light blue button-down shirt with grey slacks.
"Come on in," Steve said. Bucky stepped into the house, gripping the strap of his backpack and looking around the kitchen as if he'd never been there before.
"Is, uh...," Steve looked out the window.
"Brock's here." Bucky sighed. "I told him to stay in the car tonight. He's a bodyguard, not a chaperone. It's his job," he reminded Steve, when Steve looked concerned. "He's got a Kindle, he'll be fine."
Steve nodded. "Okay. You can put your bag in my bedroom and I'll start the oven."
"You're cooking?" Bucky blinked in surprise.
"Frozen lasagna," Steve said. "Is that okay? We could order something."
"It's good," Bucky assured him. "I like lasagna."
They looked at each other awkwardly for a moment, then Steve put his hand on Bucky's waist and dragged him forward for a kiss. Bucky let his backpack fall to the floor and wrapped his arms around Steve.
"Or," Steve said, a few minutes later, when they came up for air, "we could have dinner later."
"I had a big lunch," Bucky said.
Steve grinned. "Come on." He took Bucky's hand and pulled him towards the bedroom. They stopped every couple of steps to kiss. Bucky yanked off his jacket and tossed it at the couch in the living room. It missed and landed on the floor, but Bucky didn't stop. Steve unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it outside the bedroom door.
They fell on the bed together. Steve tugged at the bottom of Bucky's t-shirt, but Bucky pushed his hand away. "I have a lot of scars," he said.
"I don't care," Steve said.
Bucky hesitated. "You know they had to cut me out of the car after the accident?" Steve nodded. "They had to cut some of the car out of me, too."
"Oh, Bucky..." Steve frowned and laid his hand lightly on Bucky's chest.
"No," Bucky said. "Don't treat me like I'm broken. I'm not."
"I know," Steve said.
"I'm serious," Bucky said. "If you start pitying me, I'm putting my shirt back on."
"I won't, I promise," Steve said.
Bucky grabbed the back of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. Steve couldn't help a quick inhalation of air at the sight of the ropes of scar tissue twisting over Bucky's torso and the straps holding his arm in place.
"Like Frankenstein," Bucky said wryly.
"Actually -" Steve began lightly.
Bucky held up a hand to cut Steve off. "Don't tell me Frankenstein was the doctor. They were both Frankenstein. Father and son." He dropped his shirt on the floor next to the bed. "And both monsters."
Steve slid his hand over Bucky's stomach and Bucky's breath shortened. "You're not a monster," Steve said firmly. "You're a miracle."
"None of that, either," Bucky said, though his annoyance was weakened by Steve tracing circles on his chest.
"You're alive," Steve said. "You're alive, you're beautiful and you're here with me." He pressed a kiss against Bucky's collarbone and Bucky closed his eyes. "I think the last one's the biggest miracle," he added.
"I dunno, Rogers," Bucky said. "From where I'm sitting, it's the other way - fuck!" Steve's hand slid over the front of Bucky's jeans. "Oh, just get your pants off already." Steve grinned and kissed him. And took his pants off.
They fell asleep together, naked, Bucky resting his head against Steve's shoulder. At some point, he sprawled out and ended up with most of his body draped over Steve, who just wrapped an arm around Bucky's waist and went back to sleep.
Bucky woke abruptly and it took him a second to realize what had woken him - someone was at the front door. He leapt out of bed and grabbed a baseball bat from the corner of Steve's room. "Wait here," he told Steve in a low voice, and slipped out of the bedroom and into the living room. He gripped the handle of the bat in both hands, ready to swing. He kept his back against the wall.
"Steve?" Sarah Rogers asked. "Are you up?" She flipped on the living room light. "Bucky!" she said in surprise, and Bucky realized in horror that he was standing in her living room, holding a bat, completely and utterly naked.
"Bucky? Mom!" Steve had had the sense to grab pants, at least. Bucky silently resolved to never, ever sleep naked again. Especially in someone's mom's house.
"I thought someone was breaking in," Bucky said weakly.
"I gathered that," Sarah said, carefully keeping her eyes on Steve. Who, Bucky realized, with a fresh wave of horror, had red scratches along his side from Bucky's fingernails. They weren't deep enough to draw blood, but they stood out against Steve's fair skin.
Bucky tried to say, "I'm going to go put on pants," but his throat had gone dry and he only managed to squeak out, "Pants." He dashed back into the bedroom anyway. It wasn't really an action that required narration. He grabbed his jeans and pulled them on, not bothering with his underwear, since he wasn't sure where that had ended up. He did find his shirt, at least, and his socks had fallen right next to his boots. He was lacing them up when Steve came back into the room.
"You okay?" Steve asked.
"I can never look at your mom again," Bucky said, staring at his boots.
"Um," Steve said, grabbing a t-shirt from a pile of laundry and pulling it on. "She said she wants to talk to you."
Bucky groaned. "But she saw me naked!"
"Yeah," Steve said. "I think that's why."
Bucky looked up anxiously. "Is she angry?"
"I don't think so," Steve said.
Bucky double-knotted the shoelaces on his boots and flopped backwards on the bed. "I could just sneak out the window," he suggested, staring up at the ceiling.
Steve laid down on his side next to Bucky and put his arm across his boyfriend's waist. "Don't worry, she likes you."
"She used to!" Bucky moaned. "Why is she here? I thought she would be gone all night."
"She said she would be!" Steve said. "Someone came in to cover the second shift."
"I hope they regret what they've done," Bucky said. He sat up, ran his hands through his hair a couple of times to finger-comb it and tied it back with a hair tie. He leaned down to kiss Steve, taking the time to linger above Steve's lips. Every man should get a last meal.
Steve cupped his hand around the back of Bucky's neck. "You'll survive," he promised.
"If I don't," Bucky said, "I want you to know it was worth it." He kissed Steve again, then got up.
Sarah Rogers was at the kitchen table with her hands around a mug of coffee. Bucky stopped in the doorway of the kitchen. "Come in, Bucky. Sit down. Do you want some hot chocolate? Or," she glanced down at her mug. "I suppose you're old enough for coffee."
"Hot chocolate's good," Bucky said. He shuffled over to the table and sat down across from her seat.
She poured hot water and the chocolate mix into a mug and stirred it. "I don't have any marshmallows."
"That's okay," Bucky said. He accepted the drink from her, glad to have something to do with his hands. "We didn't know you were going to be home," he said weakly.
Sarah chuckled. "I'd gathered that." Bucky was pretty sure his face was hotter than the hot chocolate. "Did you use protection?"
He was going to melt into the floor and die. "Yes," he said. He took a drink, trying to hide his face behind the mug.
"Good," she said. "Are you aware that you should never use oil-based lubricants with latex condoms?"
"Oh my God," Bucky squeaked. He cleared his throat. "I know. I had sex ed and I've read a bunch of stuff online. You can give me a written test if you want but can we please not talk about it?"
Sarah smiled. "Sorry," she said. "Nurse's instincts." She took a drink of her coffee. "I should probably call your uncle."
"Don't," Bucky said quickly. "Please don't."
"I won't," she said gently. "Are you worried about how he'll react?"
Bucky shook his head. "I'm just not ready to talk to him about this stuff."
She studied his face, then nodded. "Okay." She offered him a business card. "Here's my cell number, my work number and my email address. If you need help with anything, a place to stay, someone to talk to or anything else, you can call me. I won't tell anyone, even Steve, unless you want me to. I can come get you wherever you are." Bucky stared at her in surprise. He took the card, studied it, then slipped it carefully into his pocket.
"Okay," he said roughly, his throat suddenly tight. She came around the table and pulled him into a hug.
"You're so young," she said softly.
"I'll be seventeen in March!" Bucky protested.
She smiled. "And you're growing up so fast." She pushed a lock of hair out of his face and frowned. "You could still use a haircut. If you want me to cut it sometime -"
"I like it," Bucky insisted.
"All right." She cupped his cheek for a moment then let her hand fall away. "Do you need a ride or will the gentleman outside see you home?"
"He'll take me," Bucky said. He paused, then said. "Thanks."
"Anytime," Sarah said.
When Bucky got home, he went into the bathroom, locked the door and sat down on the edge of the tub. He took out the card and ran his finger over the card, feeling the impression of the printed text under his touch. It was really sweet of her to offer, but he knew he'd never call her. Still, he memorized everything on the card before he tore it up and flushed it down the toilet.
The next morning, Bucky's uncle came into the kitchen while Bucky was eating breakfast. "I'd like to see you in my office at ten," Pierce said told him.
Bucky nodded. "Okay." Pierce left with a glass of milk. Bucky stared down at his cereal, appetite suddenly gone.
Bucky knocked on the door to Pierce's office promptly at 10 am. His uncle disliked tardiness. "Come in," Pierce said. He was in a suit, though he'd hung the jacket over the back of his office chair. He stood up from his desk and handed Bucky a folder. "I have a new assignment for you."
Bucky opened the folder and saw Peggy's name. He skimmed over the document, closed the folder and set it down on the desk. "No," he said.
"Excuse me?"
"I'm not doing it," Bucky said. He flicked his tongue nervously over his bottom lip. "I'm done. I'm out."
Pierce gave him a long look. "I think you should reconsider," he said calmly.
"No," Bucky said. "I'll leave, okay?" He pressed his hands flat on the desk to hide that they were shaking. "You don't have to take care of me. I'll pay you back all the money you've spent on me." He swallowed. "I don't know how, but I will, I swear. I'm grateful for what you've done for me, but I can't do this anymore."
Pierce looked at him again in silence. Bucky took his hands off the desk, leaving damp palm prints on the wood. He rubbed his hands against the legs of his jeans and tried not to look as scared as he felt. Pierce pressed a button on his desk phone. "Brock," he said. "Please come into my office."
Bucky stared at his uncle, confusion shifting abruptly to fear. He turned to run, but the door opened and Brook gave Bucky a shove that slammed him into the bookcase behind him. Several books hit the floor and Bucky heard something glass smash. He tried to get up, but Brock punched him in the stomach, twice, in quick succession. Bucky gagged, doubled over and tried to suck in air.
Brock grabbed him by the ponytail and dragged him into the center of the room. He twisted Bucky's hands behind his back and forced the boy to his knees. Bucky tasted blood and bile and his head spun. He tried to shift his weight and break free, but Brock twisted his arms again and forced him back down.
Bucky looked up at his uncle. "James," Pierce said, his voice heavy with disappointment. "I really hate that it's come to this." He slid open a desk drawer and took out a gun.