At least Bucky had experience before preparing for battle.
JARVIS had a military mode - self-defense protocols, Tony called it - and everyone took shifts through the night to check the perimeter around their Malibu headquarters/mansion. Bucky didn't order it, but the team stayed in uniform as well, and he didn't let the his shield out of his sight.
Two days later, Happy was still in a medically induced coma, and there hadn't been hide or hair of any soldiers, Winter or otherwise.
Bruce joined Bucky as he stood out on the landing deck on the roof of the mansion, face turned towards the sea.
It was a perfect Southern California day - the summer sun mixing with the ocean breeze in a way he used to dream about during Brooklyn winter nights.
He'd made his place here, but sometimes he still trade it all back in a second.
Maybe Bruce sensed his mood, because he stood with Bucky for a long while, enjoying the view. All of JARVIS's sensors were on full alert, and there had been two false alarms twice today, tripped by a stray bird and strong wind. JARVIS was a super computer, but he'd been set on a hair-trigger.
Now it was calm and quiet. Even the media clustered a quarter mile away at the driveway gates had started to drift off over the last few hours.
Bruce sighed and broke the silence. "The thing about Tony Stark," he said out of nowhere, but Bucky didn't stop him or pretend he wasn't what was really on his mind, "is he makes the mistake that if he's not going forward, he's moving backwards. He doesn't stand still."
"Why bother being patient when you can buy everything you want at the drop of a hat?" Bucky groused. That was probably hitting below the belt, but it wasn't as if Tony was there to hear it. Besides, he was still a bit sore from being blindsided during the announcement.
Bruce quirked an eyebrow. "You think inviting the fight to us is a bad, uh, tactical move?"
"No," Bucky admitted. "If we knew where the Winter Soldier lived, we'd be there in a split second. Since we don't?" He shrugged. "Besides... home games are always more fun."
"We would have avenged Happy anyway. He's our friend," Bruce agreed.
"Yeah," Bucky said, then looked at Bruce, noting the tightening around his eyes. "How are you holding up?"
"Waiting is... stressful," Bruce admitted, meaning he was probably having a bit of trouble keeping the Hulk down in a suddenly charged atmosphere. "But I can't argue if it produces results."
They were silent for another moment. Then Bruce glanced at him.
"But you know the real reason Tony pushed for a confrontation, right?"
"Because he's an impulsive jackass."
"That," Bruce agreed, "and because JARVIS has protocols to watch traffic patterns. He would have noticed if Tony's limo had been followed from here. The Winter Soldier had to have started from the baseball field, which means he was there."
Bucky felt his mouth go dry. "What are you saying?
Bruce shrugged, looking down in that obtrusive way he had whenever had had to deliver a hard truth. "Maybe he was waiting for Tony to show up at your ballpark- though that seems unlikely. Tony's never gone there before. Most likely, he was watching you, but decided to target Happy instead."
"Why?"
"That is the question." Bruce paused, then offered, "Can you think of why someone would consider using you to get at Tony?"
Bucky couldn't help the flare of anger, and yes, of shame. Things were getting out of hand if the team had noticed - especially if some of theirenemies had seen the way he and Tony were around one another. "Yeah, I can," he said with a bit of force. "Why, you got something to say about it?"
He didn't know what he expected; condemnation, perhaps? Anger? Bruce's quiet, sympathetic smile and shrug wasn't it.
Instantly, Bucky felt like a heel. He turned away from Bruce, running a hand back through his hair. "Sorry."
"It's fine. I just wanted to be sure you knew. And that, you know, you had an ear, if you wanted to talk about it."
Bucky turned back, eyes narrowed. "You were sent up to talk to me, weren't you?"
He didn't meet his eye. Damn science bros. "Why don't you come inside, Bucky," was Bruce's calm answer. "Team's having dinner. Nat says we should talk strategy."
But somehow, after dinner was over and everyone moved to the living room, Natasha declared she and Clint were going to go patrolling around the property, and Bruce made noises about needing to be in his lab for an important experiment. Bucky gave them the fish-eye, especially when Thor said - loudly - he was needed to commune with the clouds. Whatever that meant.
So he and Tony were left alone.
"Our kids ain't as subtle as they think," Bucky said.
"Subtly is overrated," Tony decided, then tilted his head. "And you're right. They're kinda our kid, except for Bruce who is my brother from another mother. But... does that make you or me the dad?"
"I'm the old out-of-towner, come back from the war. You're the rich young thing with too much money than sense," Bucky said.
Tony snorted leaned back on the couch they were sharing, took a swig of bottled water and then let out a long, loud breath. "So, while we're here and conveniently alone..."
Bucky made a show of rolling his eyes, but his heart was pounding.
"Are we going to talk about this?" Tony asked.
Yes. No. "'bout what?"
"You and me. This attraction. The moments we had, the moment we're having-"
"Geez," Bucky said half-exasperated, looking around. But they were alone in the room. "Cool your motor mouth."
"I can do more with my mouth," Tony shot back.
Bucky stared at him for a second, then laughed. "Really, Stark? That's going to be your line?"
"I can do better than that, but you're not-" Tony shut his mouth, lines etched between his brows. "If I've been misreading, I-fine. I can accept that."
And there it was, all out in the open. Bucky had to admit, it was pretty brave of Tony. And he had the feeling that if he told him to, Tony might even keep his word, and stop flirting. Stop hinting. But did Bucky actually want that?
He and Steve had been friends - he never really even knew if Steve had been interested in more. Probably not, especially after Peggy Carter came into the picture.. And that was fine. Bucky would never have let himself drag Steve down, back then.
Now? It was a new world, and he wanted Tony. He wasn't sure if he could be close to him and not want him as more than just a friend.
Bucky took a breath, and even though he scraped up every bit of courage he had in reserve, his voice still came out soft, almost hesitant. "You haven't been misreading."
Tony blinked once, slowly. "Okay. Good? So how come I'm sensing a 'But' in there?"
"There's a few I can think of."
Tony scooted a little closer, his knee edging against Bucky's. "You're not gay, just Tony-sexual? I get it. I even understand it."
He had to work not to smile. The man was an ass, but a charming one. "It's not just us. We got a team to think about."
"You don't have a problem with Clint and Natasha," Tony challenged.
"They're different."
"Because she's a woman? Unfair, Cap. And sexist. Reverse sexist."
Bucky nudged Tony's knee again. "Because Nat has it more together than all of us lunk-heads combined." He paused, considering. "And she keeps Clint in line."
"We can still be friends - with benefits. Sexy benefits," he clarified, in case Bucky was too much of a dope to get it.
"You think that kinda talk is going to turn my head?" This was easy, this kind of banter. Bucky could feel familiar ground under him again.
"Yes?" Tony tried, then twitched at Bucky's look. "Okay, no, I can do better."
Bucky leaned back, dragging his eyes up and down the length of Tony's body in a way he'd never let himself openly do to another man before. His gaze lingered on Tony's lips.
"Do better," Bucky told him.
Tony's smile was a quick thing. He shifted around, one hand resting on the top of the couch, leaning into Bucky's space. "I've won People's Sexiest Man two times."
"You keep throwing that out there like it means something," Bucky replied, his eyes still on Tony's smart mouth. "'sides, I get more fan mail."
They were an inch apart. Tony leaned in, his smirk all playboy and daring, but you couldn't bullshit a bullshitter. Bucky caught him short, cupping his hand around Tony's cheek and drew him close. If he was doing this, it was going to be proper. Not a game.
They kissed. Tony's mouth was soft and unexpectedly sweet, despite the tickle of his goatee. Bucky curled his hand around to cradle his head. His fingers tangled in his hair as he opened his mouth to Tony, letting him in.
Tony slid fully over, one leg over Bucky's to straddle his lap. From this angle, Tony was taller, and Bucky felt him smile against his lips. Daringly, Bucky slid his other hand up from Tony's arm and down his torso - hard muscle. None of the curves of a woman, but he didn't mind it. Natasha would be like that, too. It didn't matter one way or another that Tony was a man, only that he was Tony.
That realization hit Bucky hard. He drew back.
"Too much?" Tony asked lightly, but his eyes were searching for doubt on Bucky's face.
He shook his head. "No, it's just..." His eyes scanned over Tony's face. "You."
"Eloquent," Tony said. "You can do better, Barnes." He dipped his head again, lips a question over Bucky's. Is this okay?
Yes, Bucky thought. Hell yes. He pressed forward.
They kissed, slow and filthy. Tony, clearly looking to impress, was pulling out all his tricks, teasing him out, inviting Bucky to explore his own mouth with languid licks, and sucking on his tongue when he did.
Bucky groaned, shutting his eyes. He rolled his hips upwards once, twice, just wanting to feel.
Tony looped his hands lazily around his neck, his body language open and inviting Bucky to touch his fill. Daringly, Bucky ran a hand down the swell of his ass - he would have never tried this with a girl so fast. Tony only murmured encouragement, and Bucky gave him a squeeze.
"What's it like?" he asked, drawing back a little.
Luckily, Tony didn't need clarification. "With a man? Little messier, little tighter." Tony nipped Bucky's bottom lip, then lower, on his chin, adding, "Little hotter."
Bucky swallowed. He wasn't sure he was going to try - that - yet. His fingers tightened and he rolled his hips again up against Tony, earning a startled, pleased sound from the other man. It rocked straight to Bucky's core, and the thought of getting Tony off, seeing what he looked like riding his lap, made his mouth water.
He kissed him again, hard and claiming, and Tony practically melted into it. He made an almost lewd groan when Bucky dipped his head to pay attention to the side of his throat.
"Warning," Tony's voice was low. "Kissing my neck guarantees an approximate 174% chance my clothes are coming off."
"That so?" He brushed his lips to the corner under Tony's jaw, then exhaled to see the skin prickle. "I like it when you talk scientific to me, doll."
Tony smirked and tipped his head back in silent askance. "Really? What else gets you hot? Rocket science, applied physics, mathematics - I know all the mathematics."
Bucky kissed his throat, "Pick something, we'll go from there." He kissed the same again with a little teeth, lingering, and heard Tony's breath catch. Bucky dropped his hand to rest on Tony's upper thigh, wanting to touch, wanting to unzip and take him out, stroke him, and keep him talking all the way through.
But this was all new territory, and Bucky didn't want to take liberties. He hesitated and asked, "Can I?"
Tony hummed and leaned back, grinning fondly at Bucky as if he was reading his thoughts. "Whatever you want, old man. This is your show."
There was a single point of light, a red dot, on Tony's forehead.
Bucky jerked Tony to the side and down. A bullet cracked into the TV behind them.
Then all hell broke loose. Bucky shoved Tony off the couch and to the ground. He snatched up his shield and brought it up as the entire world seemed to rain metal bullets.
One person under the shield was a tight squeeze. Two was almost impossible. Hot fire raced up his calf as a bullet grazed him.
The pain, at least, took care of what was left of his erection. Snarling, Bucky tucked up around Tony as much as possible, while Tony yelled, "JARVIS!"
There was the whine of repulsers, and then the assembled Iron Man suit skidded into the room, bullets sparking off the metal casing. It crouched in front of them, taking up the slack.
Then, distantly, Bucky heard the sound of helicopter rotors. The Winter Soldier had brought friends.
What hell had happened to their warning system?
"You just had to give him our address," he complained.
"I own an insurance company," Tony shot back. "I'm sick of paying out city damage claims."
Bucky grinned at him, and Tony grinned right back, fierce and feral and alive. And even though death was raining in on all sides, and battle adrenaline and lust were colliding in his head, a part of Bucky's heart he thought would be frozen forever flickered back to life. He kissed Tony hard on the mouth, then said, "On three, I'm rolling to the right. Gonna draw them off. Get in your suit."
Tony had a slightly glazed look in his eyes. But he nodded.
"One, two-"
Lightning from an angry Thunder God crackled ominously overhead. The gunfire ceased. That was probably Nat and Clint's doing, holding the parameter.
Bucky rolled away, still holding the shield up in front of them, just in case. Only then did he realize the comm unit had been silent in his ear the entire time. He toggled the button. "Avengers, report."
"Frequencies on almost all bands are being jammed," said Iron Man's computerized voice. Bucky glanced over to see the last of the armor sliding into place, and the eyes glowing to life.
Tony turned to the panoramic windows, one palm outstretched.
At least five helicopters were visible on approach - four, after a bolt of lightening struck down, shattering one into a fireball.
It still left four missiles to be launched straight at the house.
Strong, gauntleted fingers gripped Bucky's reinforced belt. "Hold on," Tony warned, and suddenly they were shooting towards the windows. Bucky held up the shield to take the impact of the glass. It shattered around them, and they were up and into the air a moment before the missiles hit.
Looking down, he saw at least two dozen black clad men advancing on the mansion. A few were already downed by arrows sniped at them from the nearby palm trees.
Bruce had been working in the basement lab. Sure enough, there was an almighty roar. The Hulk crawled out of the shattered remains and hurled a cement beam right into a helicopter which had gotten too close. He was going to be on a rampage - Bruce had no control when he changed in surprise.
One helicopter fired at them. Bucky threw the shield and struck right under the rotor. The blade made a grinding sound as it froze, and the helicopter tumbled into the sea.
Tony landed them on the beach under the cliff, which apparently had been used as a staging area. It took a couple minutes and some quick work to clear area of several black clad goons. There was no insignia on their clothing - nothing at all to indicate who these people worked for, or what they wanted other than a fight.
Then the last one stepped into the open. He was different from the others. A huge man, tall and broad with muscle, his long, dirty blond hair falling in his face. He wore wrap-around sunglasses, and a dark mask that looked almost like a muzzle. His left sleeve was open, showing a glinting metal arm with a red star on the shoulder.
Tony turned towards the Winter Soldier, and Bucky could practically see the angry smirk under Iron Man's mask. "Look who's decided to join the party."
The Soldier didn't reply. He advanced, unhurried, but fast. Too fast. Tony fired his repulsers with both palms, but the Soldier dodged, took an easy step to the side with grace, and backhanded Iron Man hard with his metal hand. Tony stumbled back, firing again. It went wide.
Tony had his chance. Now it was Bucky's turn. He aimed and threw his shield as hard as he could.
The Winter Soldier turned and caught it in one metal grip.
Bucky barely had time to think, What the hell...? before the Winter Soldier pivoted, shield in hand, and hurled it at IronMan.
It hit edge-on with a crack of snapping metal, right over the arc reactor. And it returned back to the Soldier's hand, easy and neat as Bucky himself had ever thrown it. Iron Man staggered backwards, sparks spitting from a deep gash.
"Son of a bitch," Bucky growled, and grabbed his gun from his holster.
He fired, but the Soldier ducked and twisted to avoid it and every other one Bucky emptied at him, blocking with the shield, along with a too-late repulser blast from Iron Man. Shield still in hand, the Solider sprang and brought it down again on Iron Man. They both went down.
Bucky was twenty strides away. Even with all his enhanced speed, all his power, he wasn't fast enough. He watched, like a dream where he was caught in molasses and everyone else was going normal speed, as the Soldier slammed the edge of the shield again and again on Tony's armor in piston-like, brutal strikes, cracking the suit open like an egg.
The last one struck over the face-plate. Tony went still.
"No!"
Bucky threw himself at the Soldier in an ungraceful tackle. His fist struck the side of the Soldier's head, and the man's wrap-around sunglasses went flying in one direction, the shield in the other.
They rolled, and the Solder kicked him away. Bucky regained his feet, standing between the Soldier and Iron Man, who was still down and unmoving.
The Soldier stalked toward Bucky, a knife clutched in his metal fist. His blue eyes were empty.
"C'mon!" Bucky growled, his blood boiling. He blocked the first swipe with the outside of his arm. "That's all you got, punk?"
Maybe it was his imagination, but the Soldier seemed to hesitate. Sensing an opening, Bucky came up under his guard with a solid right hook, throwing all his enhanced strength, all his fury and fear for Tony behind it.
He landed a blow on the side of the mask that should have knocked anyone for a loop. The Soldier's head snapped to the side, but he didn't even shift his weight.
Then something flickered in the back of the Soldier's eyes. He struck back.
Everything move that happened in the next few seconds was instinct. The only reason Bucky stayed alive and on his feet were as a result of the long lost knife lessons Jacques Dernier had given him. He still wasn't fast enough. The edge of the Soldier's knife caught his sleeve and ripped, but Bucky grabbed the man's human wrist, and punched him again. His fingers digging into the tendons to try to get him to release the knife. Then there was the whirl of gears while the metal arm caught him. The Soldier straightened, and Bucky's feet left the earth as he was literally tossed over the Winter Soldier's shoulder and slammed, hard, to the ground.
Then the Winter Soldier was on him, one hand locking one of Bucky's arm's above his head, knee pinning Bucky's other arm to the ground. The knife was still gripped in the Soldier's free hand.
"Who are you?" the Soldier demanded. His voice was muffled by the mask, slightly dented where Bucky had struck it.
Snarling, Bucky brought up a knee to try to kick him off.
The Soldier's eyes narrowed. His metal fist slammed down on the inside of Bucky's right shoulder.
Bucky heard the distinct sound of his own collarbone snapping, and a lance of agony shot through him, making him cry out. Then the Soldier shifted, bringing Bucky's wrist high over his head into a stretch that ground the two broken bones together.
Bucky screamed.
"Who are you?" the Soldier demanded again.
Panting, Bucky grit his teeth against another cry and glared at him, summoning up all his guff. "Buddy, I'm the leader of the team who's gonna take you down."
The Soldier blinked once. Then he reached up with his free hand and unclasped the back of his own mask. It came away and fell to the ground.
It was as if Bucky had been plunged back into the arctic water all over again. His veins, his blood had frozen over. No, worse, he was back on the train, reaching out, and Steve was only an inch away, but falling too fast.
It couldn't be. It couldn't be.
"Steve?" he choked.
It was him. Every inch of him; his hair longer and hanging ragged around his eyes, reddish blond scruff on his chin, but other than that he was just as he had been the day he fell into the gorge.
Steve looked down at Bucky with dead, blue eyes. He cocked his head and repeated. "Steve?"
"No, I-Steve, it's me. It's Bucky. I'm Bucky, don't you remem-"
Steve leaned forward as if to study him closer. Bucky made the mistake of taking his eyes off that knife. So it came as a surprise when Steve stabbed him through his right side, neatly between two ribs. Bucky cried out in shock, arching up.
"I know you," Steve said, still very calm. Remote. "Where?"
He couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Steve couldn't be- this couldn't be real. Oh God...
Then Steve twisted the knife, and Bucky swore he heard something splinter; a rib, or maybe it was just his heart breaking. He screamed and thrashed - fractured collarbone be damned- but Steve held him pinned down like a bug.
"Where?" Steve repeated.
"I... I... You're my friend. You're Steve Rogers, Steve-Stop, fuck-stop!"
The knife twisted viciously, and Bucky's vision went white. He might have passed out for a moment because a sharp slap across the face brought him back.
"Tell me," Steve growled, leaning down, right over him, hunger livid on his face. Bucky couldn't breathe - it was more than Steve's weight - there was a terrible pressure in his chest. Punctured lung. He couldn't suck in enough air. Barely had enough to speak. But he had too. He had too.
"You've... been my best friend... since we were kids..." he wheezed.
Strange how much more it hurt for the knife to pull out rather than to push in. Bucky's pained groan took the last of his breath, and his entire right side felt wet and warm.
"I don't remember," Steve intoned. Whatever emotion on his face before was now gone. The knife he held dripped blackish blood, and he wiped it clean on his own thigh. "You are not my mission."
No, Bucky wasn't his mission. Tony was. Bucky could taste copper in his mouth, thick and choking. "No," he gasped.
But Steve released his hold, turning away. Bucky held no more interest for him.
Desperately, Bucky grabbed at his pant leg, trying to stop him. No, you're Steve Rogers. You're good and kind, and you were born in 1917 - how are you alive, Stevie? I'm sorry... I'm so damned sorry...
He wasn't sure how much of that he said aloud, if any of it at all. Steve easily brushed him aside, rising.
"Think fast, Blondie," said Iron man's computerized voice.
Bucky heard an electronic whine, then there was a brilliant flash of light from Iron Man's chest repulser. Steve was hit dead on and flung back at least twenty feet.
Iron Man fell ungracefully to Bucky's side, sparks and hydraulic fluid both spurting from gashes in the suit. Tony wrapped an arm underneath him, and Bucky felt an unpleasant electric buzz as Tony magnified his armor to the metal plating in Bucky's uniform.
Being lifted hurt like nothing else, but he didn't have air to complain about it. His head rolled back in time to see Steve rising again to his feet, his vest smoking a little, but alive. Thank God.
Let me down, Bucky thought, pushing weakly at Tony. I can't leave him again...
But Iron Man took off in a lurching, ungraceful climb. Only half of the flight stabilizers seemed to be working, the others shorting, jostling them both.
You gotta take me back...
"Cap, JARVIS says you're bleeding out. Stay with me."
Bucky didn't care. He'd lost sight of Steve in the smoking remains. What if he met up with the Hulk or Natasha? They didn't know Steve from Adam - they'd try to kill him.
"Call... 'em off, 's Steve..." He could barely hear his own voice above the wind, and Iron Man made no reply.
Bucky's vision grew dark at the edges, and his mouth was wet with blood, the taste choking him.
Tony was saying... something. Bucky wasn't following. He couldn't keep his eyes open any longer.
"... Bucky?... Bucky?!"
The rushing air was cold around him, and in his mind he wasn't in Tony's arms. He was back at the bottom of the snowy mountain ravine, kneeling over the broken body of his friend.
You were dead. Hand to God, Steve, you were dead and gone... how can you be...