It was the same nightmare night after night. He was once more the Winter Soldier, once more a puppet with his strings manipulated by HYDRA. He was a merciless killing machine whose only purpose was to mete out death and destruction.
Whomever HYDRA had targeted, he would hunt. Other people who happened to be around were collateral damage. He left no witnesses alive, be they man, woman, or child. Then he would go back to sleep, his body a tomb, his mind trapped in a frozen nightmare. Only to be woken up years later to hunt, to kill again.
It didn't matter that the programming was gone and he was long "cured". The nightmares kept coming, and he woke up in a cold sweat. It took him several minutes before he realized where and when he was.
His body shook as he ran his hands through his shoulder length dark hair. Blue eyes stared around his bedroom, at the sheets on the bed he lay in instead of the cyro chamber that was his home for decades.
If Tracy still lived next door, he would be barging in on her to further remind himself of where he was. He would have her read to him in order to hear someone else's voice. Tracy especially had a very lovely voice, a husky and resonant voice that he was sure her husband appreciated. But she no longer lived across the hall from him, though the apartment stayed empty. Tracy liked to hide there at times when she was mad at Loki and needed a place to cool down before seeing him again.
Since there was no angelic neighbor for him to call on, he decided instead to pick up the phone and call Steve. The man immediately told Bucky to hold on, that he'd be right there. Bucky knew he would be. The two men had been best friends for literally a hundred years, were platonic soul mates. Each of them always there for the other.
Knowing that Steve was on his way, Bucky got up, got dressed, and went to make some coffee.
"FIVE DELRAN CANES!"
Derrick tied another big red bow on the Bannister that led to the second level of Sanctuary, where their room and the guest quarters were. They could hear Robbie snoring even though the kid's door was closed. Well, if he wanted to miss out on hot chocolate, that just meant more for them and their student.
" Four golden cuffs, three anal plugs, two nipple clamps, and a gorgeous girl with a strap-on!"
Derrick ignored the soft growl that followed their singing. They didn't care, they loved the holiday season.
" On the sixth day of Christmas, my Mistress gave to--"
"I'm trying to study here!" Tracy complained.
"Part of your training is learning to deal with distraction. I'm in a good mood and feel like singing. If it's distracting, then deal with it," Derrick told their little "sister" and picked up where they left off "… six leather crops, FIVE DELRAN CANES, four golden cuffs, three anal plugs, two nipple clamps, and a gorgeous girl with a strap-on!"
"Why a girl with a strap on? Why not a gorgeous man with a hard-on?"
Derrick snorted. "A girl with a strap-on wouldn't be done after five pumps."
They saw Tracy's jaw drop as she stared at them. "Wow. Someone's slept with the wrong men."
Derrick chose not to answer. "On the seventh day of Christmas, my Mistress--"
"I bet Bucky would last more than five pumps," Tracy muttered, just loud enough for Derrick to hear. They felt themselves flush from head to toe, and glared at their sister, who had gone back to studying the scroll they had assigned her.
They heard the door open before they had a chance to give her a piece of their mind. Derrick huffed and went down a few steps to put another ribbon on the banister of the spiral staircase. They blew a lock of curly blonde hair out of their face, wondering if they should just have it cut like they had in their masculine form. Derrick kind of liked the bouncy spirals though. They were pretty punk, which to this day was still their favorite movement of the mortal age. They loved the music, the philosophy, and of course the fashion. Today Derrick wore a Sisters of Mercy tee over a pair of leather pants that hugged their feminine curves. The tee was worn out and had holes in it. A pair of fishnet gloves decorated their hands along with a pair of spiked leather bracelets. On their feet were a pair of old leather steel toed boots.
Some people might find that outfit odd on a former Archangel, but Derrick never really cared what others thought, angel or mortal.
Well, actually they did kind of care what one mortal in particular thought, and Tracy knew it. Hence her snide remark. They would not think about him though. They wouldn't.
The footsteps echoed in the warehouse that Sanctuary manifested as, and the Odinson Brothers appeared out of the shelves and racks full of magical artifacts, dried herbs, and mystical weapons that were stored here for safe keeping. Loki went to his wife, put an arm around her, and kissed the top of her head. Tracy didn't look up from the scroll, but she did smile.
"Oh, right. When he distracts you, it's ok. When I do it I get snarled at." Derrick shook their head. The truth was, in all the eons they had lived, they had seen very few lovers who were as passionate, well-suited, and attuned to one another as Tracy and Loki. The Hierarchy they used to be a member of agreed, which was why they were working on finding a way to extend Loki's lifespan. It would destroy Tracy for him to die and go to Valhalla, where the angels really couldn't go since they weren't in charge of that particular afterlife. If they could at least make it so Loki went to Heaven when he died instead…
"So, my Pet, did you learn anything new?" Loki sat on the table beside Tracy, where he could pet her hair.
"Yes. I learned that all those stories about angels being good singers are a bunch of crap."
"Bite me, sis," Derrick retorted. "Go back to memorizing that scroll. We'll be practicing shortly. We're also going to work more on your Enochian today. Your syntax still sucks."
Tracy made a face and went back to reading, Loki still stroking her while peering over her shoulder. The Asgardian was forever curious about all things magic.
Derrick finished tying another bow. "I might need a break from decorating. Thor, want some ale? It's from Olympus."
"In that case, my friend, I will be happy to accept your offering," the elder Odinson answered. "And Sanctuary is looking rather well. Very festive."
Derrick had hung strands of garland from the high ceiling at intervals. In the middle of the space was a tree, three times as tall as Thor and taking up many times the space. "It will be once that's decorated," Derrick said, jerking their chin towards the evergreen. "Want to help? I'm making Tracy help as part of today's lesson."
The woman in question looked up sharply. "How is decorating a tree supposed to teach me anything about being an angel?!"
"Patience, of course. Besides, I said so," Derrick answered her. Tracy sighed and went back to the scroll.
There was a thump from upstairs as Robbie Reyes finally woke up. Derrick grabbed a soda out of the fridge while getting the ale. This was nice. Having friends and family surrounding them, joking, snarling, sharing drink. To them it was a perfect morning. They set a saucepan on the stove to heat up for cocoa, retrieved another ale for Loki and a water for Tracy, and went back out balancing everything on a tray.
" On the seventh day of Christmas, my Mistress gave to me, seven foot fetishists…"
Bucky stared at his coffee as he sat in the kitchen of Avengers Compound, spacing out due to sleep deprivation. The nightmares always made it so he could never get the six hours he needed, and he refused to take the pills Doctor Strange had prescribed him.
"You'll never guess who I saw land on the lawn then walk inside," Natasha's voice penetrated the haze he was in as she sat down with a cup of coffee and reach for the sugar bowl. "Good thing Tracy isn't here. She'd have a fit."
"I don't think she knows that Steve and Michael have been talking for months now," Bucky answered the Widow as he took a sip of coffee. He set the drink down and looked up to see Nat staring at him, her hand still moving from the sugar bowl to her cup.
"You already know? And…. months?!"
"Ever since the thing with the Beyonder. Um….do you know how much sugar you just put in your coffee?"
Nat slowly set the spoon down and stared at her coffee. Her eyes looked up at Bucky, who was trying really hard not to laugh. But he did crack a smile as she cautiously picked up her coffee and warily took a sip.
Her eyes immediately watered and she coughed. Then she got up and took the cup to the sink. "That is one scary angel," Nat shuddered as she rinsed the mug out.
"Yeah she is. I think she also likes Steve."
Nat looked at him. "How can you tell? She never shows any emotion! She's like a block of ice!"
Bucky shrugged. "Why else would she come down here to hang out with him?"
"How did you know she was?"
"I ran into her one day when visiting Steve. She was just leaving his apartment."
Nat shuddered again. "That is one individual I never want to 'just run into'."
"Believe me, it wasn't fun. I needed a few stiff drinks afterwards."
Nat sat back down with a fresh cup of coffee. "Speaking of angels, how's yours?"
Bucky frowned. "I don't have an angel."
"Former angel then," Nat waved it off and sipped her brew.
Bucky's frown deepened. "How am I supposed to know?"
Nat frowned back. "You're still avoiding them? I thought you worked things out."
He shifted in discomfort. "I told them I was sorry if I'd been an ass to them. I'm giving them space now."
Nat stared at him again. "James Buchanan Barnes, you really can be an idiot sometimes…"
Bucky was in no mood for another lecture from another nosy friend of the distaff gender. It was bad enough when Tracy did it and he didn't need it from Nat as well. "I'm going to see what Sam is up to," he announced as he pushed back his chair, dumped the rest of his coffee in the sink, and left before Nat could say another word.
Yes, it was rude, but Bucky didn't want to think about Derrick today. He didn't want to think of the former Archangel with those brilliant liquid silver eyes, the moving magic tattoos that fascinated him, the sense of humor that made him smile, or the sultry laugh that invited him to laugh too.
He didn't want to. He couldn't, because he didn't deserve them.