Word count: 3171

TRIGGER WARNING: None :)

***

You could feel your heart pounding in your ears as you, Steve, Sam, Clint, Wanda, Scott, and Bucky kept walking forward, despite Tony's warnings. The beating of your pulse paired with the footsteps of rebellion was deafening, your brain so overwhelmed with sound that it couldn't even process what the consequences of your actions would be. Even if it could, you wouldn't have backed down. You would follow anyone, blindly, into a fight if it meant that Bucky was kept safe. He had wormed his way into your heart and made a home, and losing him would take so much of you that you were sure you wouldn't survive.

Both opposing groups began running towards each other, air thick with hesitation, anger, and regret. You knew that no one wanted this fight to happen, but it was unavoidable. Everyone was too stubborn to back down. 

The beginning of the end was punctuated with the sound of an iron fist colliding with a vibranium shield.

***

"I love the weather here." Bucky sighed, strolling lightly beside you, hands in his pockets and face turned towards the sun, basking in the light. You held back a chuckle, noting how precious this large, intimidating man was when he was warm, happy, and soft.

"The summer is always just right." You agreed, tearing your stare away from him.

"It was always so cold," he said, tone slightly saddened, "I've been in between an icebox and Siberia for decades, I forgot how nice the sun feels."

You stole another glance at him, seeing that he still wore a small smile, despite the cold realization he just had.

"I used to go to the beach a lot, in New York." You sighed, thoughts of home tugging at your heart, "I love laying on the sand and just soaking up the light."

"That does sound nice."

"You should try it," you urged, "just lay out on your balcony."

He finally looked down at you , smile tight and eyes sad. Wordlessly, he lifted his left arm, moving his fingers in the black glove that covered his metallic hand.

"Can't risk attracting that kind of attention."

You nodded solemnly, head dipping down. But, you then had an idea. A smirk pulled at your lips and you met Bucky's gaze.

"Do you trust me?" You asked, a sly look in your eyes. He gave you a suspicious glare, but couldn't stop the grin from taking over his features, eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Mostly."

"Then," you took a hold of his hand, gloved fingers intertwined with your own, "follow me, and don't question it."

***

You first came face to face with Natasha, no hesitation coming from her as she swung with a left hook. You were quick to dodge down, swinging your right leg in front of you and sweeping her feet out from under her. She hopped up immediately, attempting to land a kick into your right ribcage, but you caught her ankle and pulled her towards you harshly, your knee hiking up to connect with her stomach. She grunted as the wind left her lungs, but used her close proximity to take you by your wrist and spin under your arm, bending it behind your back. 

"You can still walk away," she said, her face by your ear, "you don't have to be a part of this."

"You don't understand how much I can't do that."

You let out a cry as she twisted your arm a bit further, kicking backwards into her shin. That made her release you, but as soon as you turned to face her, she kicked you squarely in the chest, sending you flying to the ground. Luckily, Clint stepped in and was able to distract her before she was able to reach you again. You groaned, your head falling sideways, spotting Bucky just as he was launched into a pallet of wooden boxes by the Black Panther. You let out a breath through flared nostrils, ignoring the pain that was beginning to return to your side, before pushing yourself up and running towards him.

T'Challa's claws were out, heading straight for Bucky's throat, before a wisp of red surrounded the king's wrist. Wanda flicked her hands sideways, sending the Black Panther yards away as you reached Bucky.

"You okay?" You asked in a breathless, frantic voice. Your hands held his cheeks, your eyes scanning his features. He nodded quickly, reaching up to hold your wrists.

"Come on," He spoke, moving his hand to your side to push you along with him. You winced, harshly, even the gentle contact sending a shooting pain up to your shoulder and down to your hip. He noticed your expression, how you hissed through your teeth.

"Are you okay?" He asked, hand jumping away from you and eyes growing wide.

"Good enough." You tried to reassure him, but your voice came out slightly strangled. "I'm fine, I'm fine. Let's go." 

You ran alongside a doubtful Bucky, going towards Steve and trying to stay out of any more fights.

***

"I feel like I'm in a documentary about serial killers, and you're the psycho." Bucky muttered, his frown clear as day as the two of you walked along the secluded roof of the bakery you had sat in many times before.

"Oh, hush," you waved a dismissive hand at him, "if I was planning on killing you, your body would be six feet below in some far off desert by now."

He scoffed, "Yeah, right. You forget that I've been in this business much longer than you."

"And you forget that I have the resilience of youth on my side." You smiled sweetly at him.

"That's not even fair." He deadpanned. You ignored him and walked around an AC unit, revealing two lounge chairs, between them a small table with an ashtray placed neatly in the middle.

"What's this?" He asked.

"I came up here one night when I noticed they kept the side ladder down," you explained, "I figured I should check it out, you can never be too careful. Turns out the owners- a husband and wife well into their seventies- have a nasty smoking habit they've kept hidden from their kids, who happen to be employees."

"And why am I here?"

"Look around." You gestured around you, Bucky's eyes following the direction of your hands, "There's no buildings around here that are taller, we're in the outskirts of the city so there's not many people here, so it just happens to be the perfect spot." You sat in one of the chairs, smile proud and hands folded across your stomach.

"Perfect spot?" His head tilted slightly.

"For sunbathing, stupid." You rolled your eyes jokingly, "You won't have to hide here."

He looked around again, the few strands loose from the small ponytail on the back of his head blowing across his face. He was trying to avoid eye contact with you, knowing that as soon as his gaze met yours, he would go completely red, because in all honesty, he was incredibly touched by the small gesture of showing him somewhere like this.

"And when the owners come up to smoke?" He questioned, almost trying to find a reason this small safe haven wouldn't work out. It was a habit, believing that everything was too good to be true.

"They're traveling in Ireland for the next month," You explained, your smile slightly smug, "Something about their fiftieth anniversary."

He nodded, scanning the horizon again with his eyes. You watched him for a moment with a smile, knowing that he was probably questioning everything you had told him, needing to inspect every part of this small, secluded space before trusting your words. You decided to just let him do it, leaning back and kicking off your shoes. Your eyes fluttered shut, the sun warming your skin and your muscles relaxing. You really missed the beach.

His eyes peeled away from the surroundings and landed on you, a small smile of adoration gracing his lips. He wondered how you made everything look beautiful, even something as mundane as laying in the sun. He particularly liked how a content grin was complacent on your face, your only movement being the rise and fall of your chest. If only you could see the way he looked at you when your eyes were closed, or when your back was turned. He looked at you like the whole world could crumble around him and he wouldn't blink.

His footsteps grew louder as he came near you, fabric rustling around for a moment before his body relaxed on the chair next to you. You peeked one eye open at him, only to be met with the glare of sunlight on metal. You turned your head slightly, the light moving out of your eye line and what you saw immediately flushed your cheeks.

He was laying beside you, long sleeved shirt and leather glove laying on the ground beside him, nothing but a thin, sleeveless undershirt covering his chest. A content sigh left his lips, your eyes drawn to his chest rising and falling. You let yourself stare, drinking in the sight of the near perfect man beside you. The low rumble of a laugh made your eyes flicker to his.

"Like what you see, doll?"

***

You pushed your back against a luggage carrier, looking over Bucky's shoulder at Steve.

"We gotta go," Bucky said, "That guy's probably in Siberia by now."

"We gotta draw out the flyers." Steve responded, looking towards the sky. "I'll take Vision, you two get to the jet."

"No, you get to the jet!" Sam yelled over the comm system. "The rest of us aren't getting out of here."

"As much as I hate to admit it," Clint chimed in, "if we're gonna win this one, some of us might have to lose it."

Steve's head dropped, obvious sadness and disappointment in his expression. All of these people he dragged into this mess, and now they would have to pay the price for his rebellion.

"This isn't the real fight, Steve." Sam reasoned. Steve looked over at you and Bucky, not fully convinced. 

"One problem at a time, Rogers." You said firmly, trying to ground reason over emotion. "We need to think about the bigger picture and deal with the consequences later."

Steve could feel his heart break in his chest, knowing what the fate of his friends would be once the Quinjet had left for Siberia. They would be confined into cells guarded by maximum security, the charges upon their names undoubtedly including terrorism, murder, treason- all of it. He looked up again at Bucky, at the person he was fighting for. He knew he couldn't give up, but he hated how many good people he had to abandon in order to win.

He breathed deeply, head nodding slightly. "What's the play, Sam?"

"We need a diversion, something big." Sam responded quickly.

Scott's voice rang through the comms, "I got something kinda big. But I can't hold it very long." 

Bucky and Steve looked at each other, Bucky's hand reaching behind him to find yours.

"On my signal, run like hell." Scott continued, "And if I tear myself in half, don't come back for me."

Bucky shook his head in disbelief, "He's gonna tear himself in half?"

"You sure about this, Scott?" Steve questioned.

"I do it all the time." Scott reassured, "I mean, once. In a lab. Then I passed out."

The three of you slowly stepped out from hiding to see Scott turn from Ant-Man to the Big, Friendly Giant. You looked at him in awe, and slight horror. His impressed laugh echoed through the comms.

"I guess that's the signal." Steve said.

"Yeah, you sure about that?" You said back, sarcasm dripping from your words.

"Way to go, Tic Tac!" Sam yelled, and you could just imagine the toothy grin on his face. As everyone turned their attention to the larger-than-life, (and also, very effective), distraction in the middle of the tarmac, you, Steve, and Bucky sprinted towards hangar 5.

You had almost made it when a yellow beam of light, presumably from Vision, cut through the control tower by the entrance of the hangar, causing it to fall sideways towards the ground. However, it didn't land on the concrete, but hovered above it, laying on a bed of red energy swirling beneath it. Continuing to run towards the entrance of the hangar, the red light suddenly disappeared, the debris making its way towards you. The three of you dove under the rubble, Bucky pushing you forward with a firm hand on your back. You landed mere inches from a particularly large piece of concrete, which would've surely crushed your leg.

The three of you were met with Natasha, who had a look of regret on her face. She stared right at Steve, never breaking eye contact.

"You're not gonna stop." It wasn't a question.

"You know I can't." It wasn't an answer.

"I'm gonna regret this," she sighed, lifting her arm with the widow bites towards Steve. You were about to lunge as she shot one out, but stopped yourself as it flew past Steve and landed on T'Challa, who had made it under the fallen control tower and into the hangar.

"Go." Natasha said firmly. Without question,  the three of you continued running the short distance to the Quinjet, the hatch opening to the floor. Steve and Bucky ran on hastily, but you hesitated, staying in your spot.

Bucky looked back, eyes wide with panic. "What are you doing? Come on!"

You shook your head, taking a step back, "I can't." 

He ran towards you, holding your shoulders the same way he did back in Bucharest as the GSG 9 invaded his apartment, the same fear and panic in his eyes.

"What are you talking about? We have to go."

"I'm going to slow you down," you said breathlessly, "in a few minutes when the adrenaline wears away, I won't be able to fight with you. I have to stay."

"They're going to take you, (Y/N), they're going to lock you up somewhere-"

"It'll be okay, Buck." Your fingers touched his cheek gently, "It'll be okay."

He looked at you helplessly, eyebrows turning upwards and eyes glossing slightly.

"Please." His voice broke. You smiled sadly, taking his face in your hands and kissing him quickly, but deeply.

"Go." You whispered, lips ghosting over his. Taking one last look into his eyes, you stepped out of his arms, hand reaching to hold your side as he moved back up the ramp into the jet, eyes never leaving you. 

It slowly ascended, the wind of the engine blowing your hair against your face. You watched as it left the hangar, carrying the two most important people in your life far out of your reach.

"(Y/N)," Bucky's voice crackled through the comm. You held your finger to your ear, trying to hear the faint sound.

"Bucky?" You asked.

"Can- hear- me?"

"Bucky?" You questioned louder, "The signal is cutting out!"

"(Y/N)- have-... say- thank- love-... love- you." And then there was static. 

***

It was day three of going to the roof and sunbathing, and Bucky was feeling particularly bold. His chest was bare as he laid in the chair beside you, arms crossed behind his head and eyes closed. You tried to keep your eyes shut as well, but the man next you was just so, so nice to look at.

He hummed contently, the vibration of his voice low in his chest. "Thank you for showing me this." If he had noticed your staring, he didn't say anything about it.

"Don't mention it," you said dismissively, "it was all an excuse for you to take your shirt off."

His eyes flew open at your words. You had just blatantly flirted with him, no reservations about it. It made his heart flip and cheeks burn, but a grin still crawled onto his face.

"Clever girl." He praised. Trying to keep his voice steady.

"Does that get really hot in this sun?" You asked, pointing towards his arm. Your words held no animosity or disgust, just pure curiosity.

He shrugged, holding his metal hand in front of him and looking at it, "Not really. I'm sure its temperature regulated with my body. It is connected to me, after all." His eyes met yours.

"Can you feel, like it's skin?" You questioned further, eyes glowing at the newfound knowledge. He smiled at you, the pure innocence and wonder radiating off your words making his stomach flutter. You talked about the awful thing that he called a left arm, like it was the most interesting thing on Earth.

"Depends," he finally answered, "sometimes I can, sometimes it's just my mind imagining what something feels like."

"I see," you nodded, eyes trailing from his fingertips to his shoulder, the red star stamped into the panels of metal. "Does it hurt?" Your voice was quieter.

His smile faltered for just a moment, gaze dropping. "A little."

You nodded again, not wanting to push him. You silently kicked yourself for asking about his arm, but you were just so curious about it. It was a part of Bucky, and you happened to care for Bucky, so you wanted to know more about it. A small silence settled over the two of you as you both leaned back and let the sun warm you.

No more than five minutes later, a soft rumble came from beside you. You turned your head towards the noise, finding Bucky laying with his eyes closed, face completely relaxed, and small snores escaping from his slightly open mouth. You put your hand up to your lips to prevent yourself from laughing, finding humor in the big, bad, Winter Soldier having the smallest, cutest snores you had ever heard. 

You let yourself look at him, truly look at him. He was so incredibly handsome, which anyone could see. But you studied the way his nose pointed slightly at the end, and how his lips had a natural upwards curl to the corners. He looked so peaceful, no stress or worry in his mind as he dozed away. You couldn't help but think he was just a beautiful person, not only in appearance but in himself as well. After everything he had endured, he continued to worry about others more than himself, and never expected anything in return. Hell, you had to spend months convincing him that he was deserving of your help, deserving of your friendship.

The world had been so cruel to a man that didn't deserve it. And, boy, you were ready to spend the rest of your life telling him that, or at least until he believed it.

With a content smile and one last look at his face, you let yourself fall asleep on the chair beside him, sun dipping down below the horizon as you drifted away.

You woke up in your bed the next morning, only the faint memory of soft lips touching your forehead, (and a few whispered words that didn't reach your ears), on your mind. 

TO BE CONTINUED