AN: I like this chapter. I love the subtle cuteness in the beginning, and I love Mo's struggles with the run, and I just like the stepping stone we get in this one. Let me know what you think!

It was before 4am when Sam's alarm started going off. Since Bucky was coming with them on their run today, it was even more important that they be up before the sun to avoid being spotted. He groaned and stretched, then got up, kicking Steve awake. He slept on a mattress on the floor at the foot of the bed; some nights Sam nearly tripped over him.

"C'mon," Sam muttered. "Up and at 'em." Steve moaned as Sam kicked the mattress, mumbling in his sleep. Sam grinned. This was something he'd never thought he would see, Steve Rogers, Captain America, mumbling and sleepy, hair mussed. Sam reached down and patted his face a couple of times before Steve sat up abruptly.

"I'm up, I'm up," he said, blinking like an owl. Sam walked around and turned on the lamp on the night stand. It didn't take them long to change into their running clothes; sweat pants and sweat shirts. They had a system: get changed, then sneak into Mo's room without waking her to use her restroom and freshen up, because Bucky occupied the only other one they had, and this one was attached to her room.

"C'mon," Sam said, forcing back a yawn. "Let's wake Mo."

Moriah wasn't a morning person. "I'm not in the army anymore," she would complain, "I don't rise before the sun. Go away."

Sam knocked on her door, Steve running a hand through his fluffy hair beside him. When Mo didn't make a sound, he knocked again, and when he still didn't get a response he shrugged and opened the door. Mo's bed was empty, which was very, very unusual for this hour. It had never happened before. Sam turned to look at Steve, who shrugged.

"Mo?" Sam called, and felt a slight prickle of alarm. Where was she? A million thoughts raced through his mind, especially after having seen that video. Had she had a flashback and wandered off? Had she had a nightmare? Why hadn't she woken him if she wasn't feeling well? His heart rate sped up a little as Steve headed downstairs to find Bucky, and the feeling grew worse when he heard Steve call:

"Sam. Bucky's not in here, either."

"Shit," Sam muttered. If something had happened…

He hurried down stairs, brushing past Steve, who followed him into the living room. It was then that he noticed the lamp was on, which was strange, and caught a bit of light reflecting off of something—something metal. A moment later he recognized the glinting as coming from Buck's arm, and he rounded the corner, coming to stand in front of the couch, and Steve's little gasp was enough to let him know that he was just as surprised as Sam.

Bucky was asleep on the couch, sitting up. He was very still, eerily still as he slept, like he would spring to life and into motion at any second. The fact that he was sleeping on the couch in itself was enough to leave both Sam and Steve confused—Bucky never slept anywhere but in the bathtub. It was odd, but it was his routine, and yet here it was.

But that wasn't the oddest thing. No, the strangest thing about it all was that Mo, Mo, of all people, was sleeping beside him. She'd tucked herself up slightly, legs drawn up, her head resting on her own shoulder (Sam suspected she would wake with a sore neck), and she'd pressed herself into the couch cushions.

There were so many implications. Bucky, who always slept behind a closed, locked door, was sleeping in the open, vulnerable, with Mo beside him. What had they been doing up together? The laptop was open on the table, the screen dead. Mo's running leg was attached. They looked for all the world like they had fallen asleep talking; Bucky could see it, Mo tucked up on the couch like she was, her body angled toward Bucky who would be leaning against the arm of the couch, and he was stunned that they trusted each other enough to have been alone like this, let alone fall asleep on the same couch.

Neither he nor Steve spoke for a moment. Sam glanced at Mo again, wondering why she wasn't wearing pants.

As though she could sense her eyes on them—and maybe she could; Sam knew she was a light sleeper—she stirred and mumbled fretfully, frowning in her sleep. Almost as if in response, Bucky's metallic fingers twitched, and he mumbled "No." Not a scared no, or an angry no, just "no," softly, almost undetectably.

"Well," Steve said. "I'll be damned."

"You're seeing this too, right?" Sam said, and Steve nodded with a grin. Sam shook his head. "I'll be damned," he agreed, repeating after his friend.

Steve reached down hesitantly to wake Bucky, gently shaking his shoulder. Bucky's eyes snapped open and there were suddenly limbs everywhere, as though Bucky thought he was falling, and then he had attacked Steve, who didn't put up a fight and ended up flat on his back on the floor, Bucky straddling him, hand at his windpipe.

"Hey!" Sam cried.

"Where am I?" Bucky was demanding, looking around. "Where—"

"It's okay," Steve said calmly, face turning slightly red. "You're alright, Buck, you must'a fell asleep out here."

"I—I—" Bucky blinked a couple of times, then seemed to come back to himself and stood abruptly. At the commotion, Mo scrambled awake with a yelp, looking around wildly. Bucky released Steve and stood, looking mildly shaken as Steve, surprisingly, just laughed, grabbing his throat.

"Nice reflexes," he rasped, shoving Bucky's shoulder, and Bucky grinned nervously.

"Sorry."

"What the—" Mo was mumbling, rubbing her eyes. "What the hell?"

"Morning, sunshine," Sam said.

"Oh, screw off, Sam," she snapped.

"C'mon, rise and shine, soldier," Sam urged. "We're going running!" Sam made a mental note to ask why she had thought it was a good idea to fall asleep on the couch beside the Winter Soldier, but he would bring it up later.

Mo sighed, waiting by the door with Sam and Steve for Bucky to reemerge from his bathroom. "I don't want to do this," she muttered. "I can't keep up."

"It's alright," Sam said. "No one can keep up with this machine, except maybe Bucky. I'll stick with you, kid."

Mo just shook her head. She was wearing shorts and a baggy sweatshirt, a headband keeping any loose curls out of her face, her hair in a careless knot. She really, really did not want to do this, but Bucky had requested it, and she couldn't say no to him. Finally he emerged from the bathroom wearing pants and a sweatshirt with gloves to hide his hand, and the four headed out, protected by the darkness, secure in the fact that no one was out at this hour.

They walked to the park, given that taking a cab seemed like a stupid idea. It was a twenty-minute walk, and Sam kept asking Mo how she was doing until she finally told him to shut up. Finally, they reached the park and the huge track, where they took their places and warmed up. Bucky, she noticed, looked a little nervous. He tied his hair back in one of those man buns and that, coupled with the workout gear, had Mo looking at him a little longer than she cared to admit. She looked away, grumbling petulantly, stretching her good leg, one hand using Sam for balance.

"We'll stick together," Steve said, looking at her. "Alright?"

"Sure," she said, unenthused. The last thing she wanted was for them to have to go ridiculously slowly just to keep up. She hadn't run on this thing in ages; she'd have to get her stride right, first, and fall into a rhythm.

"Ready?" Steve asked, and Sam elbowed her, giving her an encouraging nod. She rolled her eyes at him and they started off at a jog, and it was immediately, painfully obvious that Steve was slowing himself. She stumbled a couple of times, swearing and falling behind, and they waited faithfully for her. She ignored them, caught up in her pride, and avoided all their gazes.

This was humiliating.

She tried again, trying out her stride, running beside them and she made it a little farther before she lost her balance and the hook-like foot dug into the dirt of the track and she fell forward. She caught herself on her hands, the little pebbles digging in, and gathered her good leg beneath her, straightening up with a huff, still refusing to look at them as they stopped.

They were probably getting annoyed with her, she thought. Mo, who couldn't even run more than a few hundred feet without eating shit. She clenched her jaw and swallowed, jogging past them as they waited on her, and they caught up quickly. She made it a little farther this time, but again she lost her stride, the false knee faltering, and she fell, this time landing on her hands and knees.

She wished she had worn pants.

She stayed there for a moment, on her hands and knees, trying to catch her breath, not from exertion but from the clutch in her chest that urged her to burst into tears. She felt a hand on her back and she shrugged them off, getting to her feet. Sam offered her a hand and she snapped at him.

"Leave me alone," she said. "I can do it. Leave me alone." She wiped her face on her sleeve, tucking the loose curls behind her ears, and swallowed thickly, staring straight ahead. "Just gotta—gotta find my stride, that's all," she breathed, and he could feel their eyes on her. "What are you looking at?"

They looked away and started up the jog again. She was furious with herself. This wasn't about her, and her stupid leg; this was about Bucky. She dusted herself off, flicking the dirt out of the scrape on her knee, and took off again. This time, they didn't follow.

"Mo," Sam said, "it's okay, you don't have to—"

"I'm fine, Sam," she said, adjusting her stride and stumbling throwing her arms out for balance, surprised when she hit something solid and saw Sam.

"C'mon, girl," he said. "It's okay."

"No it's not," she nearly shouted. "It's not. It's not okay, Sam, it's not okay!"

She gasped, her chest heaving, and then shoved away from him. Left foot, right foot, left, right, faster and faster, and then they were jogging beside her again and she was doing fine until the turn came and Sam got a little too close, and she tried to adjust, lost her balance, and fell on her knees again.

"Fuck," she gasped, this time rolling over into a sitting position, picking dirt out of her knee, urging herself to keep it together, don't cry in front of them, don't do this, Fox, don't do this.

"Mo," Sam said gently, getting down on one knee beside her. She glared at her prosthetic, gritting her teeth, ignoring them. "You guys go ahead," he said, "I got this."

"No," Steve said, his voice gentle. "It's okay, we'll wait."

"No," Sam said, looking up at him and giving him a look. Mo laughed. This was perfect. "I mean it. You two go ahead."

They hesitated and exchanged a glance, and Sam gave them another look and they took off. Bucky glanced back at her, but she ignored him. Sam sighed and sat down in the dirt beside her, leaning his shoulder against hers, and her mouth trembled.

"Hey," he said gently, and she wiped away a treacherous tear. "What's going through your head right now?"

"This is humiliating," she said. "I can't even—" Her breath hitched and he put an arm around her shoulders. "I don't want to do this, Sam."

"Tough luck, kid," he said, giving her a squeeze. "You have to."

"No, I don't," she said. "I'm an adult, Sam, I don't have to do anything."

"Don't be like that," he said. "I know you. You can tackle this. You want to." She nodded, fighting back the humiliated tears. "Yeah?" Sam urged, and she nodded again. "That's what I thought. C'mon, get up."

Her hands stung and were bloody, and her wrists were sore from the falls, and she felt a little blood trickle down her good knee. "There we go," Sam said, taking her hand and helping her up. "Now, let's try this again."

She nodded and started walking, Sam urging her faster, keeping pace with her, urging her faster still, and she stumbled a couple of times, but he was there to catch her each time, steadying her. She found her rhythm soon enough, and found that it was easier if she used more of a bouncing motion, hopping from foot to foot, so that she was lighter on her feet.

"There we go," Sam urged. "You've got it, that's it." He was smiling, and she steadied her breathing. "That's it!"

Steve was suddenly beside her again with Bucky at his shoulder, and she couldn't believe they had finished the lap already. They slowed their run, matching her pace, and Steve gave her a winning smile. She looked away, focusing on her pace, and Steve and Bucky ran with them for a while before Mo noticed Bucky pull ahead of the pack slightly, and Steve matched him him.

But then Bucky pulled ahead a little more, and Steve matched him again, and Mo rolled her eyes because it was obvious what was about to happen, and sure enough the race had begun, and Steve and Bucky left them in the dust.

"Psychos," Sam muttered under his breath.

"You can go ahead," Mo said. "I know this is slow for you."

"Nah, I'm good," he said.

It seemed like no time at all before there was a loud voice to their left, and Steve said, "On your left!" And Sam gave him the finger. Steve laughed, bolting past them, Bucky hard on his heels.

"You rusty, Barnes?" Steve taunted.

The next time the pair lapped them, Steve was laughing. "On your left!"

The third time, Steve said it again, and Sam contemplated tripping him, and Mo laughed and she swore she saw a grin on Bucky's face.

They'd slowed to a walk—on Mo's behalf, not Sam's—when Bucky and Steve blew by again, but this time Steve barked "On your left!" and Bucky said "On your right!" And Sam threw up his hands, chucking his water bottle at them.

"I've had it with you assholes!" he cried, and Mo laughed as they upped they pace to a jog again, and this time when the pair came sprinting by it was faster than every before, and Mo was sure she knew what was happening. It must have been nice for Steve having someone to match him, and they were clearly testing their limits.

The final time, the sun was coming up, and they were panting, feet thudding on the ground; Mo heard them before she saw them, and then they blew past and Mo heard the sound of laughter, genuine laughter, and it wasn't only Steve. Bucky was laughing, too, and they were laughing and shoving each other the way boys did, and Bucky had a nice laugh and an even nicer smile, and he'd never smiled before, his eyes scrunched up, and Steve's smile was lovely too, and she realized she'd never seen him smile like this.

They were panting for air and Steve was saying, "I won. Eat my dust." And Bucky was denying it, laughing him off, head tilted back. The sight of them took her breath away and gave her pause, and Steve bent over, hands on his knees and gave Sam a look.

"Haven't been challenged like that in a long time," Steve laughed pointedly, still panting, and Sam gave him a dirty look. "You should come with us more often, Buck."

"Yeah, Buck," Sam muttered. "Please do."

But Mo wasn't hearing any of it, because her eyes were trained on Bucky, because he was laughing, and she couldn't believe that he was laughing. She was suddenly very emotional, and when she shared a look with Steve she saw the emotion in his eyes, too, the hope there, the look like he wanted to cry and he gave her a nod and she knew that he understood. He mouthed the words "thank you" to her as Bucky paced, running a hand through his hair, and Mo was suddenly euphoric, hopeful, because Bucky was getting better.

He'd laughed.

Mo was smiling too, even though her knee and her hands ached, she was smiling and nearly in tears.

"C'mon," Sam said, shaking his head. "We should be heading back."

"Hey, Sam," Steve said, walking beside them. "How's it feel to be run down by a couple of ninety-five year olds?"

"Shut it, Rogers."

Bucky laughed, falling into step beside Mo. He didn't say anything for a moment, then he finally looked at her, smile still in place, and she looked up at him and he said, "Thank you." Those two words made it all worth it, and she was very, very glad that she hadn't skipped this run.

AN: Any more suggestions? They'd be greatly appreciated. So far I have a Steve/Mo interaction, and more Sam/Mo. I also want to give Mo a flashback, maybe, and the anniversary of the accident is coming up. But I'd love more suggestions! Anything, whether it's cute, fluffy, or serious. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!