Tag Archives: fan fiction

“Hey, 6B.” – chapter 18

Story Summary: Bucky is on a Mission: Find out about his past and try to remember the Man in Blue. His “mission” takes him to Boston where he meets the fun and flirty, Colin Shea. With Colin’s help, he might just find all the answers he’s been searching for…but he also might find love. With outside pressures, Bucky has to decide between remaining in the dark and staying with Colin or going after the man who haunts his nightmares.

Crossover: What’s Your Number? meets Captain America: Winter Soldier/The Avengers/Captain America: Civil War (more the movies and less the books or graphic novels)

Rating: R if this was a movie. MA if it was a TV show. Mature on Archive of Our Own. Not rated on Tumblr. There is some LGBTQ/slash sexual situations, though nothing erotic. It’s a simple Rated-R romcom. No porn. (Think along the lines of Wings meets Love, Darrows, kiTT.) As Cap would say: Language! Because yes, there is some language and double entendres. Not so much violence as of now.

Genre: RomCom/Action

Chapter word count: 1,186

Characters: James Buchanan Barnes “Bucky”, Colin Shea,

Disclaimer: All characters belong to their original creators. There is no copyright infringement intended. This is all done in fun and love for my favorite movies. Thank you for stopping by and reading.

Notes: Almost there. The last four chapters will be posted next week!!!


18.

There was once a time in my life where I was a ghost. Get in. Get out. Never get caught by surprise, but take them down with shock. Now, I’m the most popular man in the United States, much less the world. Everyone knows my face and my name. I need to become that ghost again and soon.

First and foremost, I need to be calm and lay low until the streets have calmed. Unfortunately, I have only one option for accomplishing that task and it’s the last thing I want to do right now. But there was nowhere else to go.

I knock under the 419 on the door, knowing I’m probably walking into an ambush—they must have realized who Mr. James and Mr. Collins are by now. I don’t know if I’d much rather get arrested and get this chase over with or have Colin never answer the door.

After the third knock with no response, I know I’d pick being arrested.

I press my ear to the door and hear nothing but my own heart screaming. The peep-hole remains bright white and when I spy through the opening, I find nothing but a blurred fish-eye view of the desk. Then I knock a few more times, checking the hallway for a sign of life. Both are void of a presence.

The burner phone emerges from my pocket. No incoming calls or messages from 6A at all. Meaning what, though? He left? Gave up his mission?

A shadow passes by the peep-hole. A deep, husky voice booms through the door, “Didn’t you see the do not disturb on the door knob? Come back later. We’re busy.”

So he gave up on me? Which might be for the best.

With a heavy breath, I wander the halls towards the back stairwell. My hands are tucked into the pockets of my jacket, hat pulled low, eyes on the gold damask carpeting as I go. Not returning a salutation from a woman, glancing back once she’s passed.

Nope, don’t know her.

The back stairs take me all the way down to a fire exit in the alley, escort free. One end of the alley is open to the street, the other a bar. The street side has a suspicious black SUV crawling along, threatening to stop at the curb—similar to Rumlow’s old ride.

I’m not afraid of him, but I need to find Colin and ensure he’s safe. Besides, it’s still too light to go unnoticed around the streets. DC Saloon it is.

The interior of the place reeks of stale cigars and aged alcohol. The lighting is barely alive much like the three men draped over the bar with their drinks. A few of the tables have patrons eating fried and greasy bar food with their beers. A few are smoking and drinking while laughing at jokes older than me. And one soul dares to sit in the almost black atmosphere in the back booths. I can’t believe he’s here.

“Hey, 6B,” Colin says as I slide into the booth across from him and lift my cap enough to see him.

“6A.” I lift my finger at the passing waitress and ask for a beer.

Colin takes a sip of his beer. “You were right about Piper. He showed up an hour ago…wanting…well…”

I lift my hand, stopping Colin’s rambling. “You don’t…” I fall silent when the waitress reappears. She drops a napkin and the mug of foamy beer on the table and takes off. I take a sip and set it down, watching the suds slide back into the dark amber brew. “I have to tell you something.”

“What is it, Buck?”

“I know that what we’re doing is fun…that I can’t expect you to commit to me…I mean, we are searching for my old flame, for crying out loud. I can’t ask you to love me when I can’t be sure that I’d be all in if we ever found Steve. I’m sorry I—”

“You love me?” The famous smirk parks itself on Colin’s face. “Because I could see myself fall—”

“Don’t.” I spin the beer around on the table.

Colin laughs, but it’s not his typical hearty laugh. This one is more subdued and trying to remain hidden, almost vengeful in tone. “You and I aren’t that different, Buck. Let me tell you about this girl I was in love with…we had just had the best sex of my life—at that time. I was thinking clearly, talking about spending the upcoming spring break with her when she said she wanted to break up with me and got out of bed. I remember crawling over those messed up sheets and blankets, panicking and begging her to at least tell me why.

“She got dressed—including her puffy winter coat—tossing my underwear in my face and sitting on the edge of the bed.  My underwear was in my hands as I sat beside her. Julie’s eyes were leaking streams of tears. She told me she was starting hormone therapy to become a man and she didn’t think I’d be the sort of guy who could still love her as a him. Hell, if I found her, she might still have my heart.”

“The Julie from college?” I ask, remembering the notation on the whiteboard in his apartment.

He nods. “One in the same.” He guzzles down some beer. “For years, I’ve spent my time trying not to let myself get too close to anyone. Then you came along and a little spark went off in my pants…and I got to know you and I realized, it’s okay to let my heart win once in a while. Steve is in the past and …” He reaches across the table, brushing the back of my hand with two fingers. “…I already let you win my heart right out from under Julie. Just let me prove to you I can be that guy for you, Buck.”

“Colin…” The real question is could I be that guy for him? Can I look into those sad, soulful eyes and break his very heart by letting him know I have a solid lead on Steve? As I sit here staring at him…I can’t. So I opt for bad news number two. “…you should know Peggy died. In addition to the skirmish and the fight I had with Steve, the authorities want me for questioning in connection to her death, because the circumstances seem questionable.”

Colin sucks down the last of his beer. “When did this happen?”

“Not long after I left the hospital. I didn’t…”

His fingers thread with mine and he interrupts with a hasty “I know, Buck.”

The letters of my name become syllables from his mouth. His hand wraps around mine and the intensity of his gaze prompts flames to lick at my face. I can’t believe he’s flirting with me now?

“We’re going to have to lay low until we can find an alternate way to get back to Boston. At few hours at least.” After a deep huff, I add, “It might be best for us to separate and travel home separately. I’ll meet you at the apartments in a day or two. Once we can be sure the coast is clear.”

Colin raises his eyebrow. He retracts his hand and shoves himself up on the bench seat of the booth so he’s an inclined plank. His hand slides into his pocket and pulls out as fast, slamming on the table. “Until it’s time to head home…” He lifts his hand showing me a hotel key card.

I gape at it, then him. Then it. “Where did you get that?”

“Tom Piper likes to keep an extra penthouse so he doesn’t expose himself…” Colin snorts. “…to any…let’s go with gossip.” He smirks with sheer pride.

“You stole it? Won’t he notice?”

“Stealing sounds so crass. I borrowed it temporarily. While he’s busy playing with the male escort I charged to his credit card, we have one of the penthouses all to ourselves.”

“We’re going to get caught.”

“Trust me. Tom will be tied up for hours with Hank, the buck-ing lassoing cowboy. Hours. And if we get caught, Hank’s ad mentioned something about commemorative photos…I’m sure he wouldn’t mind sharing with us…the world.”

I reach into my own pocket and pull out a few bills to cover the beers and tip, tossing them on the table. I grab Colin’s hand and, together, we slide out of the booth.

The cloudy grey weather blinds me as we leave the dank, dark bar. It takes a moment to adjust to the light and when I do, I check the street end of the alley for that SUV. Gone. But to be safe, I pull out my knife and wedge it into the space between the door and the jamb. A moment later it pops open.

Colin takes me to the service elevator in the back hallway. He presses the button and the doors open immediately. We step inside and he pushes the ten for the top floor.

“Do you know which room it is?” I ask.

“We’ll just have to try the key in all of the doors until we find the right one.”

“You’ve got some balls,” I say, shaking my head.

The elevator stops its slow ramble and the doors open just as Colin grabs my butt. “I’ll show you my balls.”

The poor maid stands there staring, jaw dropped, eyes wide, taking on the color of the red star imprinted on the shoulder of my metal arm. Neither the cart full of toiletries and towels nor her moves. Not even a squeak or a blink.

I try to fix the situation by blurting out, “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Colin leans forward and, with a sultry deep drawl, tells her, “I know exactly what I’m talking about.”

And she just keeps staring, mouth dangling.

His lips press into mine, tense at first then melting and conforming into mine. I hear the click-click-click of the elevator button being pressed, but don’t dare to open my eyes to see who is pushing the button. Colin and I remain entranced in the kiss as the doors slide shut and the elevator jumps into motion.

“You’re rotten,” I mumble against his mouth.

“Really? I hear I’m pretty great,” Colin retorts.

I shove him away from me, laughing. “We’re going to get caught.”

“That’s part of the fun,” Colin says. His mouth presses together, beginning to form the ‘buh’ in my name. It draws out long and slow, each letter becoming its own name—“Buck.”—and I can’t take my eyes of his lips.

My finger jabs at the ten button in hopes it takes the elevator from sloth to rocket. Unfortunately, it keeps on the slowest pace known to man. I can count the minutes drag as we climb the last few stories. Eight—one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten—Nine…Eventually we stop on ten and the doors slide open.

Colin and I stay close together as we go from door to door. Card in, red light, card out. Starting with door 1034, we proceed around the hall, jumping between the doors on alternating sides of the hallway. We hit door 1020 and Colin has the card ready to slide into the slot when the door pops open. A man in an expensive grey suit has his back to us, saying “I don’t care if you think the ghost can’t be found. Keep searching. I want the streets watched and monitored, twenty-four seven. A man with an entire metal arm cannot be that hard to find.”

A deep voice says, “Yes, sir,” sounding tired as though it’s been raked over a million rocks. “What about the rumor of a friend helping him?”

The man in the suit takes a backward step into the hall. Colin and I take long, quiet strides towards the door with the sign above it reading “Vending”, a few rooms down. We open it and scramble to get inside. As the door closes, I hear the man in suit screaming, “Forget the supposed friend! He’s not in any of the intel reports! The Winter Soldier is your mission, Rumlow!. Find him!”

Colin turns off the light switch moments before the man storms past, cursing everyone for not doing their jobs.

“Friend of yours?” he asks in a low whisper.

I shake my head. Though his dark brown hair was meticulously combed and parted and the suit expensive, he isn’t registering in any memory—nothing new. The voice, though…

“His voice had the same tone as the Dr. from Peggy’s hospital. Less German this time, though. I knew Rumlow was after me, but killing off Peggy…” That’s something one would do to hurt Steve more than me. Why would he—?

They want me to think Steve is next on the “to murder” list so I’ll come out of hiding.

“I think the coast is clear, Buck.”

Colin opens the door and pokes his head out, checking both ends of the hallway. In the far distance, the elevator dings. He looks at me. “Only half the rooms left to check. And if they get that close again, we might just have to kiss.”

It doesn’t come to that. A few rooms down the hall, we have a green light. Colin opens the door to the grand suite with views of the massive gardens below. The bedroom on the right could house a family of four comfortably. The king-sized four-poster bed is made up with mounds of pillows and a golden color comforter. I barely get a glance at the double doors that lead out to a balcony before Colin has his lips to mine and tackles me on the bed, making sure I land under him. He rips the hat from my head and tosses it across the room. The jacket yells zzzzzrp! in the quiet of breaths being grasped.

My mind should be in the here and the now, because I’d love nothing more than to be with Colin in every way. Instead, I’m thinking about the Man in Blue. Steve. If I did this, would it be considered cheating or taking a step forward into moving on?

I turn my head and press my hands against his chest. “Colin,” I heave in a breath, “I can’t. Not yet.”

His blue eyes search through mine. I know he’s reading every thought I have, all labeled with the Man in Blue’s name—the mission that never ends. “We could only do it just a little bit. I hear it doesn’t count as cheating.”

“What’s a little bit?” I ask.

Colin gets to his knees and holds up his flattened hands, leaving about a six or seven inch gap between them. “About that much?”

Granted it doesn’t come close to measuring what I’ve seen, but… “It still counts.”

Colin huffs and collapses beside me on the bed. He leans forward and gives a swift peck. “Okay, Buck. I know Steve si on your mind.” He plants another peck on my lips. “I’ll wait.”


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Ending Notes: Thank you for reading!

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Filed under Hey 6B, the fangirling has made it here

“Hey, 6B.” – chapter 17

Story Summary: Bucky is on a Mission: Find out about his past and try to remember the Man in Blue. His “mission” takes him to Boston where he meets the fun and flirty, Colin Shea. With Colin’s help, he might just find all the answers he’s been searching for…but he also might find love. With outside pressures, Bucky has to decide between remaining in the dark and staying with Colin or going after the man who haunts his nightmares.

Crossover: What’s Your Number? meets Captain America: Winter Soldier/The Avengers/Captain America: Civil War (more the movies and less the books or graphic novels)

Rating: R if this was a movie. MA if it was a TV show. Mature on Archive of Our Own. Not rated on Tumblr. There is some LGBTQ/slash sexual situations, though nothing erotic. It’s a simple Rated-R romcom. No porn. (Think along the lines of Wings meets Love, Darrows, kiTT.) As Cap would say: Language! Because yes, there is some language and double entendres. Not so much violence as of now.

Genre: RomCom/Action

Chapter word count: 2,905

Characters: James Buchanan Barnes “Bucky”, Colin Shea, Brock Rumlow, Sam Wilson “The Falcon”, original characters

Disclaimer: All characters belong to their original creators. There is no copyright infringement intended. This is all done in fun and love for my favorite movies. Thank you for stopping by and reading.

Notes: Bucky….always so dark, always in action. Thinking I should have written this from Colin Shea’s POV.


17.

I get out of the cab at the curb and look at the tan brick building. The Omni Shoreham Hotel in DC is bustling with cars and buzzing with people. Head down with the ball cap pulled low, hands in pockets, I casually stroll along the brick paved path, through the black metal fence, crossing between parked cars on the circular drive.

Once inside, I bypass the front desk and head straight for the elevators. I get up to the fourth floor and follow the signs until I’m at room 419. I knock on the door. Light through peephole flickers from white to black to white again. The door pops open and a huge smile welcomes me.

“Welcome to our room,” Colin says, wearing his favorite lack of shirt, swinging an arm in a grand gesture. The white towel at his waist is slipping fast, but he catches it before it slides past the V of his hips.

That was a close…Not that I would have minded.

The room is decked out in neutral colors and fancy dark woods. Everything looks as though it costs a million dollars from the tan couch to the desk with scroll designs engraved into it. Very high-end for two guys on a severe budget. I look into the bedroom and notice the bedding has been wrecked as though he’s spent a week in that bed. Nothing I hadn’t seen in his own apartment before. But this time, jealously scrapes in my gut like a lion desperate to escape.

I turn to Colin, who’s wearing that sinful grin he likes to wear after…“You slept with Sharon Carter?”

The smile fades and Colin shakes his head. “No, Buck.”

“Then why are you in the towel?”

“I was going to take a bubble bath.”

Note to Self: Colin likes bubble baths.

“And where is Sharon?”

“She left me for you.”

Uh…“What?”

Colin walks past me into the bed room, tapping on his chin in faux-deep-thought. “I think we parted ways back at the offices of S.H.I.E.L.D. We had a great time going through the archives, but when she got the call about a possible sighting of you in Boston, we parted ways.”

“And you didn’t sleep with her?”

Colin’s hand flies to his heart as if I shot him. “Buck, I’m hurt you would think that.”

I hold up one finger. “The bed is torn apart.” Another finger. “You’re wearing a towel as though you’ve just finished being with a woman…like back home.” Another finger. “Your hair is disheveled…you’re worn out…” I inhale deeply to double-check the aroma in the air around him. “You smell like roses and Carter mixed together.”

“Oh. You’re jealous.” He places a quick kiss on my lips as he passes me into the bathroom. “I like it on you.”

An irritated huff bursts from me. “That doesn’t answer any of my questions.”

“Because you’re overreacting, Buck.”

“I don’t think it’s overreacting when, for a second time in my life, a Carter has tried to break apart a relationship I have with a guy I have feelings for.”

Colin stops pacing. This prideful smirk crawls up and nests itself on his face. “You have feelings for me?”

My heart rages in my chest and my arms fly out as I growl, “That’s not even the point of this.”

Colin lifts one eyebrow. “I believe it is.”

My metal hand flies up to halt any more of Colin’s words. “I can’t even talk to you right now.”

I turn to leave the room and Colin’s hand grabs my metallic bicep, grip tight. “Buck…I’ve not been with anyone else since I started hanging out with you.”

Somewhere in my mind, I know it’s true. I also know women are his addiction. Maybe if it wasn’t with a Carter, I could look past this. Instead, I jerk away from him and stalk though the room, stopping at the door, hand on the door knob. “Did Sharon get this room for you?”

“Actually, some guy also doing research at the Library of Congress offered me the room…Tom Piper, I think. Why?”

“Because he probably wants to sleep with you, too.” Over my shoulder, I see Colin holding the towel at his waist. “Have fun, Colin.” I open the door and leave.

#

Walking around the very populated Washington DC Mall is like swimming with eels. The air is electric and tense under the humid, cloudy skies. I’m on high alert as though I’m being stalked by everyone here. Everything is too familiar, too dangerous. And if one more person says, “On your left,” as they run by, I am going to kill someone.

I don’t know why I even came back to DC. Sometimes I think I want to get caught. Have it all erased again. Forget Colin, the man…everything was easier when I couldn’t remember.

“On your left…” a man says jogging past my left in tight shorts and a tank top, brushing my arm. He’s rather built and when he glances back, I notice his shifty brown eyes glaring. His dark hair is sweat stained and askew. He’s built like a battering ram—all muscle in his arms and chest.

Though our eyes touched for just a moment, I definitely recognize Rumlow. Proof that paranoia has it merits. He keeps running, though his pace is slowing. I tug my hat down and take a sharp turn, running up the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. I dash around one of the grand columns near President Lincoln. A quick check over my shoulder spots Rumlow bolting up the steps, pushing the com in his ear with his fingers and talking too low for me to hear.

I remove my hat and tuck it into my jacket. My hair gets a quick finger brushing as I check around the landing below Lincoln’s feet. A group of children are passing through with a guide regaling them with Lincoln’s significance in history. A few people walk randomly as though they’re just cutting through. And then…my opening…

A woman in thick coat and sporting a Swedish accent directs a group of men and women  to squeeze together as she aims the digital camera. I saunter up to the woman and say, “Would you like me to take the picture so you can be in the shot?”

Her blue eyes twinkle. “Thank you.” She hands the camera to me and squeezes into the middle of the group. I play with the buttons on the camera until she yells at me, “The button on the top.”

Rumlow hits the landing.

“Okay, everyone, squeeze together.” I say waving my hand to the left end of the group. “Uncle Olov, move in. Your head is going to be cut off.”

The older gentleman actually moves.

Rumlow stops behind me.

“Asrid, duck your head a smidge. You’re blocking Tova’s smile.” Two of the women actually adjust their positions.

Either I’m good a name guessing…

I lift the camera and look through the viewfinder, blocking my face. Rumlow walks in front of me and I growl, “I could get the shot if someone would just move.”

“Sorry,” he utters and walks away. I snap the picture as Rumlow’s voice trails off in the distance. “I’ve lost Winter Soldier, repeat, the ghost is gone…”

After a few snaps of the camera button, I return the camera and walk off in the opposite direction, going up to the street level. I know I need to hide, and yet, I have nowhere to go.  Unless…The card given to me at See You Latte is removed from my wallet. “Sam Wilson.” The address of the VA office isn’t too far from here. This could be a trap, or it could be my sanctuary. If anything, it will be somewhere to hide until dark.

#

The building is unassuming, almost residential in nature. The streets seem clear from men with earpieces and walkies here. The sky above is filled with menacing grey clouds too thick for photographic satellites to catch any images. I hope.

I take my time walking into the building, merging with a few men who were already headed inside. The wide hallway greets me with humming fluorescent lights. Under glass, white letters on a black letter board give a listing of names and offices upstairs. Similar signage along the hall point out rec and meeting rooms.

I hear a familiar voice echoing in the stairwell at my left. I turn face the corkboard next to the letter board on my right, keeping my back to the voice as it grows in volume.

Lost dog. Free cats. Guitar Lessons. Pizza coupons—I’ll just take that for dinner. A dance announcement for the tenth. Meetings schedule. All pinned in a haphazard arrangement. As I reach out for the pizza coupon, the voice passes behind me. I tuck the paper into my pocket and glance in its direction to see the back of a man’s head. Could definitely be the Sam from the cafe.

He stops at a table and arranges some papers and pamphlets. His head turns my way. My eyes fall to the yellowing, shiny white tiles and I start walking towards the room. After ten steps or so, I lift my eyes in time to see him walk through the doors next to the table. I lean against the wall near the opening and listen as he starts a meeting.

“Welcome. Our support group will start in a moment. I’m Sam Wilson and I am here to listen and help however I can. I just have one thing to do before we start…”

Not even a blink of a moment later, Sam pokes his head out of the door, looking at me. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you. Come on in. You don’t have to talk this time, but I think the others would like to meet you.”

#

I’ve been listening to these veterans speaking for about an hour now. Sam is winding down the meeting, telling his story for my benefit—retired from active duty, decided to help out a friend, and announcing his departure soon from the VA, deciding to take on a new duty for our country.

The meeting ended with a round of applause from the attendees and promises for a farewell bash. The men and women filter out of the room, stopping to shake the hand of this man who, I still cannot say with conviction, is someone I should trust.

His dark eyes meet mine and he tilts his head towards the door. “Would you like to go upstairs to my office for a talk?”

My toes squeeze into the floor of my boot, though I know my knife is embedded in the sole. I stand and nod.

“Room 227. Let me collect these papers and I’ll be up.”

Hands in my pockets, head down, I make my way to room 227. “Sam Wilson” is engraved on a black sign by the door. I open it and step inside, shutting the door as stealthy as possible. The moment I’m inside, I drop to one knee and pull the knife from my boot. I stand unfold the blade from the handle. I slash through the air with the knife—whhsh. whhsh, whssh—completing a figure eight. With satisfaction for the heft and hold, I fold the knife away and slide it into my waistband for access.

I pace around his office, refusing to appear comfortable…weak…in any way. His walls are littered with framed degrees and commendations for his actions—in war and out. There are pictures of him with various Generals from the different branches of the military. One of him with a fatigue clad prince of the United Kingdom. A few of him with President Ellis. On the opposite wall is a large flat screen running a news feed with the sound off.

Under his window are shelves of books. On the shelves, pictures of him with Iron Man and War Machine on a helicarrier. There are a few of him with the ‘Nameless Natasha’ and Thor at some party. But what catches my eye are the pictures of Sam with Captain America.

My mission.

My Steve.

Well, maybe not anymore, but at one point def—

“Before you ask, yeah, I know Cap,” Sam says, closing his office door. He points at the picture in my hands. “That was taken a few months ago. He came and talked with the veterans about his struggles, gave them words of encouragement. You should have been here.”

I never heard him enter the room. Not good.

I set the framed image on the shelf. It takes a minute for me to want to peel my eyes away from The Man in Blue before I ask, “So…what would you like to talk about?”

“You just get straight to the point, don’t you?” Sam asks, laughing nervously. He motions to one of the two burgundy leather chairs in the corner. “Have a seat.”

“I’m good right here.”

“All right.” Sam sits in one chair. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, folding his hand together. “I just had a few questions. Okay? They aren’t anything to be worried about. I just have to know…”

Nothing to be worried about? That throws up a million red flags. My fingers tense and release as quickly. I can’t divulge the presence or location of the knife and lose all surprise.

“…are you James Buchanan Barnes? The sergeant from the 107th in World War ii?”

He doesn’t play around. Just went straight for the jugular.

I shake my head like his questions aren’t anything but flies near my face.

Sam stares up at me. “I know you’re panicking right now, but I’m with…a mutual friend who wants to remain out-of-the-way for now.”

My steady soldier hands flex, though my fugitive heart thuds behind this calm exterior begging me to run. The images flow through my sight, one after another in a quick roll call of who’s who in power. I suck in a deep breath through my nostrils and ask, “Which of your friends are looking for me?”

“Honestly? All of them for one reason or another,” Sam answers. “But I’m with the only one who truly matters.”

The thud in my chest just stops. Dead. “That’s impossible. He might have known me, but I almost killed him,” I say.

“He knows that wasn’t the real you.”

I turn around and ask, “So you’re telling me you’re with…” I stop dead when I see the image on the television screen. “Is there a volume for this?”

Sam scrambles to his feet and lunges for his desk. He picks up a screen device and presses a button on the screen. The volume isn’t blaring more sharing a secret.

“As stated, Margaret Carter, Peggy to her loved ones, has passed away today at the age of ninety-five. She has been out of the public eye since retiring as S.H.I.E.L.D. Director in the mid-1990s. Suffering from Alzheimer’s, she resided at the Daniel Sousa Memorial Home where she stayed until her death. She is survived by her niece, Sharon Carter, who has been unable to be reached for a comment.

“Her doctor called the cause of her death suspicious. An autopsy has been ordered and the authorities have been brought in to investigate, calling this a poisoning. They are looking to speak with this man.” My image takes up the entire screen. “He visited Ms. Carter earlier today. This is the same man wanted in conjunction with the recent upset and destruction in Washington DC. He is thought to be in the DC area. If you see him, do not approach as he is considered armed and dangerous. Call police immediately…”

Sam and I gape at each other.

“I didn’t kill her,” I tell him. Though…maybe thoughts of it over time have creeped through my mind. “I was only asking about Steve.”

Sam nods, pressing his lips together. “I know you didn’t,” he says, pacing about his office. “But you’ve been identified and your safety…your freedom is at risk. You need to go.”

He picks up a pad of paper and pen from his desk. The pen furiously scribbles across the sheet. He rips it off and hands it to me, setting fire to the rest of the pad in a glass bowl. He places a clipboard on top of the blaze when the top half of the pad is mostly ash, the fire slowly extinguishing.

“The address is a safe house. Get there and call that number.”

“But what about Steve? Is he alive? Does he even want to see me? I need to talk to him.”

“You need to leave.” Sam picks up the black phone receiver from his desk. He punches a button on the top listing and then touches 9-9-1-1. His dark eyes are full of apologies. “Go” whispers from him so low I barely hear it. The he clears his throat and says, “Hello, yes. I’m Sam Wilson, I work at the VA Volunteer Association. I’m at the M Street location near Old Stone House Park. I ran a meeting tonight, and I think that man you’re looking for was there.” He covers the bottom part of the phone and growls, “Go. Now.” He uncovers the phone and says, “Yeah. I’ll be waiting. Fifteen minutes?”

That’s my cue to leave.


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“Hey, 6B” – chapter 16

Story Summary: Bucky is on a Mission: Find out about his past and try to remember the Man in Blue. His “mission” takes him to Boston where he meets the fun and flirty, Colin Shea. With Colin’s help, he might just find all the answers he’s been searching for…but he also might find love. With outside pressures, Bucky has to decide between remaining in the dark and staying with Colin or going after the man who haunts his nightmares.

Crossover: What’s Your Number? meets Captain America: Winter Soldier/The Avengers/Captain America: Civil War (more the movies and less the books or graphic novels)

Rating: R if this was a movie. MA if it was a TV show. Mature on Archive of Our Own. Not rated on Tumblr. There is some LGBTQ/slash sexual situations, though nothing erotic. It’s a simple Rated-R romcom. No porn. (Think along the lines of Wings meets Love, Darrows, kiTT.) As Cap would say: Language! Because yes, there is some language and double entendres. Not so much violence as of now.

Genre: RomCom/Action

Chapter word count: 2056

Characters: James Buchanan Barnes “Bucky”, Peggy Carter, Baron Zemo, Underood – not Patty, but related Black Widow type character.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to their original creators. There is no copyright infringement intended. This is all done in fun and love for my favorite movies. Thank you for stopping by and reading.

Notes: Oh, Agent Carter. I love you! I’m hopeful that Netflix will take you under her wing!

Inspiration for this chapter: One of my favorite parts of Winter Soldier is when Steve visits Peggy. I always cry during this part. Always. So I knew it would be included somehow, someway…Miss Peggy Carter and Bucky. And the fondue line from First Avenger? Yeah. I will never leave that behind. (LOL)


16.

I remove the ball cap from my head and brush my long hair back from my face. I spot an older woman wearing a white blouse and a pink sweater over her shoulders, buttoned at the top to keep it in place. Her matching pink lips smile when she notices me walking towards her. “May I be of help to you sir?” Her accent is sprinkled with hints of German, her poise stiff and tall.

The name plate on the desk reads: PATTY UNDERWOOD.

“Yes, Ms. Underwood. I’m Mr. James from Harvard. I have an appointment to interview Ms. Margaret Carter.”

She sits and puts on a pair of short rectangle glasses that were hanging on a chain around her neck. Her fingers dance across her keyboard and she lifts her chin to read the computer screen. “Yes, Mr. James. I see Ms. Carter’s niece arranged this interview. I’ll show you to her room.”

She sets a “Will Return Soon” sign on the counter and leads me to the elevator bay. Her fingernail clicks against the up arrow button. The elevator behind us dings as the doors slide open. She steps inside before me and pushes the three button. The doors close and the elevator jerks before taking us upward at a snail’s pace.

Patty Underwood folds her hands and rests them against her grey skirt. She stares straight ahead, as do I, but in my peripheral I notice that she’s checking me out, her irises at the corners of her eyes. I try not to fidget under her scrutiny…

Why is she studying me like she is? There is no way she knows anything about me, and yet she’s glaring at me as though she’s about to pull out a knife and hold it to my throat.

The elevator jerks to a quick stop on the third floor. A ding rings out as the doors slide open. Patty steps out and away from the elevator like a soldier—tall, arms stiff, neck tight—and leads me down to room 324. Her posture almost falls lazy as her knuckles lightly rap on the door. She opens it and cheerfully says, “Peggy, you have a visitor,” before allowing me to pass. “I’ll be back when it’s lunch time.” Patty smiles at Peggy, but gives me a once over before she shuts the door.

Peggy is in her bed, wearing a white gown. The head of the bed is angled so she’s reclining comfortably. Her silver hair is parted neatly and set just like I remembered her brown hair in the 1940s. Her brown eyes are wiser, older, but still have a light with a spark of danger behind them. Her withered hand reaches out and pats the bed. “Have a seat, Mr. James.”

I pull the chair by the window closer to her bed and sit down. My hat comes to rest on the bedside table and I say, “Hi, Peggy.”

“Sergeant Barnes?” she gasps, starting a coughing fit. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“What could we possibly have to talk about?”

Déjà vu. “Steve.”

“Captain Rogers? Is he all right? Did something happen to him?”

“I was hoping you could give me some answers. Have you heard from him lately?”

Peggy shakes her head. “I can’t say for sure. Steve and I had a date …” Her voice goes quiet and she stares at me, almost unbelieving. “Sergeant Barnes? But how are you…? You’re dead. As of the mission in the Alps.”

“I should be, but something hap—”

Peggy interrupts me, saying, “Steve cried into my shoulder over your loss. He blamed himself for losing you. So much so, he went on that blasted mission without a care for his safety…that mission to take down the Red Skull and save New York from decimation…that ended with him plummeting with a plane into the arctic. That damn mission that took his…”

She sniffles and dabs at her teary eyes with her hand. I lean forward and grab a tissue, passing it to her. She snatches it from my hand.

“He came back for me, you know? Looking just like he did back then. Time never touched him. Just like you.” She dabs at her eyes and takes a deep shaky breath. “I can’t believe you’re here, like that. What sort of testing did Hydra do on you?”

“I’m not sure,” I answer with a stiff shrug and a shake of my head. “I was hoping you could give me some answers.”

She licks her lips and huffs. “I vaguely remember the war. I know Captain Rogers rescued you from Zola. They were testing a similar serum, but they weren’t successful. I suppose Hydra knows their tests worked now?”

I feel compelled to skip that answer and go straight for the end result. “I’m no longer with them, Peggy. That fight with him…he jogged something in my memory. Something that was stronger than all their brainwashing. Something that changed my world.”

Her eyes fall downcast, watching as she shreds the tissue in her hands. Her voice is quiet when she finally says, “He loved you so very much. More than I ever thought he should.”

It feels like she’s stabbing a knife into my heart and twisting it. “I know he did, Peg.”

Peggy’s brown eyes meet mine, steeling over as she says, “I know somewhere in that big heart of his, he loved me, too. Sometimes I think it was more, sometimes less. I know he was the only man to bring a smile to my face during those times.”

“To be honest, I think he was torn between us.” I reach over and take her hand. It’s icy and frail, but can still squeeze the fuck out of my hand. “Which is why I’m here. I need to know if he’s okay. Have you seen him? Heard from him recently?”

She blinks a few times, staying as quiet as a still day. Then, with a tilt of her head, she says, “Sergeant Barnes? What are you doing here?” Her eyes walk all over my features. “You’re supposed to be dead. How are you the same as all those years ago?”

“Peggy, we were talking about Steve, remember?”

“Why? Is something wrong with Captain Rogers?”

Peggy stiffens and tries to sit up. Coughs come on stronger this time. Her hand with the tissue goes to her mouth. I get up and pour her a glass of cool water. Then I hold the glass to her lips as she sips it from the glass and lays back. I set the glass on the table and take the chair again.

“He came to see me…said he he was late for his date to dance with his best girl.” She sniffles. “He came back for me.”

I take her hand again and pat the backside of it…

“Bucky Barnes, you are my son’s savior. Where would my Steven be without you?” a blonde woman with brilliant blue eyes asks. She sits at the kitchen table in the meager apartment. “Thank you for taking care of that bully before he got hurt.”

She starts coughing and cannot catch her breath. I get up and grab a glass of water, holding it as she takes slow sips. When the coughing fit has passed, I set the glass on the table and take my seat. Her hand takes mine and the other pats the back of it in a motherly thank you.

“Bucky, you might be sixteen, but you are certainly a hero.” A small laugh escapes her peach tinted lips. “Just when I was going to offer you a glass of milk.”

I laugh along, though the thought of how weak she was becoming sat like lead in my brain. “That’s okay, Mrs. Rogers. I wasn’t thirsty.”

She stands up and waves me off. “Nonsense. You’re still a growing young man and you need your milk.” A few steps towards the small refrigerator later, she adds, “And Bucky, you’re old enough now to call me Sarah.”

“Okay…Sarah.”

Another coughing fit takes her over before her fingers could touch the handle of the refrigerator. She crumples on the floor, coughing into her hand. When I rush over, I notice the blood on her palm, but she tucks it away under her folded arm and smiles at me. We both pretend it never happened.

“Sergeant Barnes, are you still with me?”

I shake away the memory and smile at Peggy. “Peg…when did Steve come back to see you?”

“I’m not quite sure of the date. About a month ago?”

“How did he look?”

“Handsome as ever, Healthy,” she says, a smile playing with her lips. “Post serum or not.”

“He wasn’t scratched or beaten when he came to visit?” I ask, wincing in guilt.

“Why would he be beaten? What happened?”

It’s then I tell her about the skirmish, ending with me pulling him out of the Potomac. Peggy listens in complete silence, though she’s staring daggers at me. Her hands ball into fists. And I couldn’t be more thankful that she doesn’t have a gun. At least not one that I’ve noticed.

“And I need to find him. It’s imperative.”

Peggy inhales deeply, coughing. “I don’t know where Steve is. I remember seeing that helicarrier in the river on the television and I believe Steve came to visit before then.”

“What about Stark? Are you still in touch with him?”

“Howard Stark and I don’t fondue. When will you and Steve get that through your heads?”

Both my hands rise to my shoulders, palms out. “Fondue is cheese and bread. Nothing more than that. Understood. But…I mean, Howard helped create the post…him. I thought maybe they became friends, kept in touch. Look, I just have to know if Steve is alive. I have to talk to him. I have to tell him that I’m starting to remember.”

“Howard and his wife died in 1991. So…” Peggy’s chin quivers and tears well in her eyes. “You’re going to tell Steve you love him,” she states, trying to keep her composure.

I shake my head. “I don’t know, Peg. I…”

As suddenly as the tears welled, they disappear from her eyes. Peggy stares at me blankly as though she’s trying to remember me from another point in time. Her hands lift and point my way as though she has a gun, pointing it at my nose. “What do you want, Sergeant Barnes? Why are you breaking into my house in the middle of the night?”

And I know where she went.

“I’m sorry, Peggy…uh, Agent Carter. I shouldn’t have come here. I’m going to go now.”

She nods and lowers her hands slowly. “It’s for the best. Steve might love you, but he loves me, too. That’s just something you’ll have to deal with, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I say with a bow of my head. “I’ll be going now.”

“See that you shut my door on your way out.”

I leave her room, doing as she asked. The question of Steve is more tangled than ever before. Did he really love her more than me? Is that what happened to us? Or was he  too grief stricken about my loss like she said?

“I hope your visit went well, Mr. James,” Patty Underwood says as I pass the front desk.

I glance over and see a syringe and a small glass bottle of clear fluid on a small silver tray on her desk. My eyes flicker to hers and she quickly looks away. “It went as expected,” I answer in a flat, perturbed voice as I continue to stalk towards the door, hands in pockets.

“Well, good,” she says, proving she wasn’t paying attention at all. She turns to the door of the office behind her. “Dr. Zemo, that medicine has arrived and is ready to be administered.”

A dark-haired man steps out of the office behind her. He’s snapping on some gloves. “Egszellent,” oozes from his mouth in a thick German accent. “Vell, done, Undervood.”

I get past the glass doors and pull the burner from my pocket. “6A” is the only name programmed into the phone. I touch it and in moments I hear Colin’s voice. “Hey, 6B.” I can breathe a little easier.


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END NOTES: Thank you for reading! The images are my own Screencaps from Captain America: Winter Soldier. The gifs were found on giphy.

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“Hey, 6B.” – chapter 12

Story Summary: Bucky is on a Mission: Find out about his past and try to remember the Man in Blue. His “mission” takes him to Boston where he meets the fun and flirty, Colin Shea. With Colin’s help, he might just find all the answers he’s been searching for…but he also might find love. With outside pressures, Bucky has to decide between remaining in the dark and staying with Colin or going after the man who haunts his nightmares.

Crossover: What’s Your Number? meets Captain America: Winter Soldier/The Avengers/Captain America: Civil War (more the movies and less the books or graphic novels)

Rating: R if this was a movie. MA if it was a TV show. Mature on Archive of Our Own. Not rated on Tumblr. There is some LGBTQ/slash sexual situations, though nothing erotic. It’s a simple Rated-R romcom. No porn. (Think along the lines of Wings meets Love, Darrows, kiTT.) As Cap would say: Language! Because yes, there is some language and double entendres. Not so much violence as of now.

Genre: RomCom/Action

Chapter word count: 1,186

Characters: James Buchanan Barnes “Bucky”, Colin Shea, Simon Forrester (from WYN played by Matrin Freeman who is now Everett K. Ross in Civil War), Clint Barton, OFC Dane. You all know I’m abbreviating that to be “Original Fictional Character” and not “Original Male Character”, right? (I always get these things wrong, but I’m still marching forward to the beat of my own drummer.)

Disclaimer: All characters belong to their original creators. There is no copyright infringement intended. This is all done in fun and love for my favorite movies. Thank you for stopping by and reading.

Notes:  First off, this chapter ends that round of typing craze. Yay. Second…There was a moment, towards the end of Avengers: Age of Ultron, where Clint Barton/Hawkeye was mumbling under his breath all the horrible things he could do to Quicksilver just for being that PITA. That moment has been stuck in my mind since….


12.

 

“Buck!”

My shoulder feels like it’s made of bouncing rubber. The waves rocket though my arm and into my chest as I flail about. My metal hand clasps around the wrist of the sleep assassin. My eyes crack open to find Colin, hair disheveled and eyes sleepy, staring down at me.

“It’s four in the morning. Aren’t you usually shuffling around your apartment at this time, getting ready for work?”

I survey my surrounds. Giant white board on the wall—containing new and old names in our mission. Unmade double bed by the window. A couch. I release his hand and sit up, scrubbing the sleep away, hands scraping against the stubble on my cheeks. “Um…yeah. I should probably go.” I glance at Colin over my shoulder. “Sorry you didn’t get any sleep.”

Colin shrugs. “That’s okay. I know a guy who can get me some free wake up juice later. Say ten?”

“Sure thing. I’m there until eleven today.”

He smiles, but it lasts only a moment before his expression turned serious. “We never did talk about that kiss, Buck.”

I get to my feet, shaking my head. “It was…” I try to muster enough saliva in my dry mouth to dislodge the knot in my throat. “…public displays of affection make people uncomfortable. Their gazes never linger for long on people being passionate.”

He leans on his hands to get closer to me, planting them on the back of the couch. “You’re telling me that you only did it because of that guy, Rumlow? That you didn’t…feel something in that kiss?”

The border between Colin and I—the couch—almost fades into nothingness when we stare each other down. He’s taking in every detail about me, reading my eyes, watching my mouth for a hint, all with questioning eyebrows and a quick breath. I’m almost positive he’s leaning so close he can hear the thudding of my nervous heart. But I keep my stare, like any good soldier, and hope that no emotions are visible.

Because, what I felt…

It doesn’t matter what I felt. “What happened to that no strings guy in 6A? I miss him.” I force out a laugh and walk for the door. “I’ve got to get going before I’m late. See you at ten.”

The difficult part of the morning was not looking back when I left his apartment.

#

“What’s the name on that Vanilla Chai Tea Latte?” I ask, resting the Sharpie against the cup.

“Simon,” the fellow says with a heavy British accent.

I’m not sure I can trust this man’s accent. His hair is greying and cut close to his head. Those sharp eyes of a military man. He reminds me of the man I saw on the news related to the king of Wakanda…the UN summit with The Avengers. Iron Man specifically. Everett Ross.

But he’s in New York right now. I’m fine. It’s safe.

I quickly scribble the name “Semen” and set his cup in the queue on the counter. “It’ll be just a moment.”

“Simon” moves to the other end of the counter. And morning life proceeds as normal with the noticeable absence of the red-head this morning. Thankfully. Maybe she gave up trying to find me. Or has decided that I’m not the man from that fight in DC after all. I hope.

A man walks into See You Latte and strides up to the counter. He’s tall and confident as he snarks something under his breath. “Hey, I’ll have a hot chocoffee.”

Um…“What? Did you mean like a mocha?”

He scrubs his hand through his short, messy hair. A nervous little laugh titters in the air. “It’s what I call my drink when I mix hot chocolate and coffee? Can you do that?”

I shrug and ask Dane, “Can we do that?”

Dane nods. “Ring it up as a mocha and I’ll craft it myself.”

I do exactly that like the good soldier I am as the man’s blue eyes watch. He tells me the size and flavors to add. I reach over and pick up a grande cup and pull out the Sharpie. “What will be the name on that?”

“Clint,” he answers and stares me down. Waiting. As if his blue eyes and long nose, t-shirt and jeans attire in conjunction with his name is supposed jog lose a memory causing me to fling my arms around him as though he’s my long-lost brother.

I scribble down the name and tell him his total. He pays with his card on the machine in front of him. He signs his name—Clint Barton—and offers a quick smile.

“Hey, 6B. My coffee ready?”

Clint turns a pointed glare at Colin. But Colin does what he does best and play it off like he’s done nothing wrong, asking, “Were you not finished? When you swiped the card, I thought you were done. But if you’re still ordering, I’ll gladly take a cannoli as a peace-offering for this misunderstanding.”

Clint’s square jaw sharpens as it tenses. He mumbles, “If I took him out, no one would miss him,” and turns, his gaze lingering on me for another long moment before moving to the end of the counter.

“Semen, chai tea latte?” Dane wrinkles his nose and makes a gagging noise.

Colin busts out laughing, clutching the shirt over his left pec as his other hand slams into the counter. “Oh, Buck…that’s so excellent.”

Dane sets the drink down on the counter and turns to me, tossing a quick glare at Colin. “Let’s not do that one again, okay? We want our customers to know their drinks are semen free.”

I nod at Dane but can’t help the laugh. “Okay, Dane.”

“Calm down, Dane,” Colin says. “Buck’s just doing his job. Remember that time I wrote Fu—”

Dane holds up a hand cutting Colin’s sentence short. “I remember. Bucky, get his order and get him moving.”

Colin leans on the register, head casually falling my way. “So, my usual order, and I have some news.”

Dane’s eyes widen and he clears his throat. “Hot chocoffee for…Clit?”

Clint’s mouth drops open and he stares at me. I shrug and offer a slight smile, but that does nothing to lighten his mood as he reaches for his drink.

Meanwhile, Colin’s loud, immediate laugh startles some of the patrons. “I can’t believe you had the balls to write that, Buck.”

“Bucky, we need to talk,” Dane growls. “In the back, now.”

Dane stalks off, slamming into the swinging doors. I shake my head and tell Colin as I hand him his pastry, “I’m probably getting fired.”

“It happens to the best of us,” Colin says, licking the crème off the end of the cannoli in a tempting teasing way. his eyes connected to mine and eventually rolling in pleasure. His deep purring hum sends a wave of heat through me like I’m witnessing something I shouldn’t. I can’t look away without seeming shy, but watching him…

Mission three is moving up the ranks.

“Come to my place right after work and we’ll talk.”


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End Notes: Thank you for reading.

 

 

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“Hey, 6B.” – chapter 11

Story Summary: Bucky is on a Mission: Find out about his past and try to remember the Man in Blue. His “mission” takes him to Boston where he meets the fun and flirty, Colin Shea. With Colin’s help, he might just find all the answers he’s been searching for…but he also might find love. With outside pressures, Bucky has to decide between remaining in the dark and staying with Colin or going after the man who haunts his nightmares.

Crossover: What’s Your Number? meets Captain America: Winter Soldier/The Avengers/Captain America: Civil War (more the movies and less the books or graphic novels)

Rating: R if this was a movie. MA if it was a TV show. Mature on Archive of Our Own. Not rated on Tumblr. There is some LGBTQ/slash sexual situations, though nothing erotic. It’s a simple Rated-R romcom. No porn. (Think along the lines of Wings meets Love, Darrows, kiTT.) As Cap would say: Language! Because yes, there is some language and double entendres. Not so much violence as of now.

Genre: RomCom/Action

Chapter word count: 1,704

Characters: James Buchanan Barnes “Bucky”, Colin Shea, Peggy Carter (Agent Carter/Margaret), Colonel Phillips

Disclaimer: All characters belong to their original creators. There is no copyright infringement intended. This is all done in fun and love for my favorite movies. Thank you for stopping by and reading.

Notes:  This chapter is part three of that typing roll… While typing these chapters, I’ve been listening to both X-men: First Class and the Kingsman: The Secret Service musical scores. I can’t listen to any of the Cap/Avengers ones because I daydream instead of type. They both provide that intense-yet-action-filled feeling that any hero should have playing for them. Plus they’re both done by Henry Jackman…who is also responsible for both Winter Soldier and Civil War scores…

Inspiration for this chapter:

And my absolute favorite part of The First Avenger:


11.

 

The hike through the foggy morning was tenuous, yet the feeling of freedom was exhilarating. Steve, me…the rest of the rescued…all emerging from behind enemy lines and marching into the base camp of the 107th. We stopped in the dead center of camp, surrounded by soldiers and tents flapping in the cool morning breeze.

Colonel Philips greeted us. And she walked from a tent, lips blazing red.

The colonel didn’t thank him, just mentioned something about having faith and storming off. He barked orders left and right. Medics took the wounded.  The men dispersed and the three of us stood staring at each other. She smiled at Steve, turned, and left, sauntering off in her military skirt.

“Who was that?” I asked.

Steve’s eyes stayed with her. A guilty smirk took control of his face. “Peggy. She…fondues with Howard Stark.”

“What does that mean?” I ask.

Steve answered with a shrug.

Note to self: Find out what ‘fondue’ is French for and do it with Steve.

He faced me, hand landing on my shoulder with a playful shake. “I have you back,” he said and wrapped his arms around me.

That hug was quickly moved to private quarters where my best friend became my commanding officer in every way. The celebration lasted from night into morning into a day, into two days. Just my buddy, Steve, and me as it always has been. As it should always be. That red distracting smile nowhere in sight.

A week later, we traveled to London to assemble a group to take out Hydra’s weapon division. The Howling Commandos and us in a hidden little pub popular with military men. Just us guys hanging out, getting to know one another. Steve went to the bar and I followed.

“I can’t believe you’re going to follow Captain America into battle,” he said, leaning into the bar on his elbows.

“I’m not,” I said. “That little guy from Brooklyn who never gave up? I’m with him.”

We toasted some shots, arms slung around each other like best friends about to break out into song on New Year’s Eve. The drinks fall back into our mouths, mine burning a trail down my throat. I was about to kiss him when his gaze caught something over his shoulder. His arm dropped and he backed away from me.

It was her. Steve made a quick introduction, giving me her name—Peggy Carter, the woman in red. I tried to introduce myself, but every word from my mouth fell on deaf ears. I was invisible to both of them as they flirted with each other, making dates, making plans as though I never returned from the stint behind enemy lines.

Peggy walked out of the pub. Steve’s head cleared and he made it like all was right in the world again. And I played along with him, not quite sure if she held some sort of mind control over him. Maybe something the government instituted when they turned him from that tenacious kid I loved to the super soldier beside me as a means of holding the ultimate control over his actions.

Late that evening, Steve took it upon himself to see the very drunken DumDum home from the pub with the help of our friend, Frenchie. I said my goodbyes and promised to meet Steve back at the base.

There was just one stop I had to make first.

#

In the outskirts of London, sat a darkened neighborhood. Few cars were parked along the streets. The neighborhood was kept dark upon orders in case of a night air raid. The houses barely had lights on themselves, maybe a few candles in windows here and there. Half way down Birch Tree Walk, I found the address I was searching for.

The small cottage sat quiet. A small oil lamp illuminated the lacy curtains in the window. A tall man in a pressed shirt and pants was at the door, hat in hand. He appeared to be British military with the uniform of an officer in the making, medals pinned to his chest. He was busy chatting with a brunette, her lips as bright red in the dark as they were during the day.

Peggy Carter.

She leaned forward and placed a swift kiss on the man’s cheek. He turned and practically marched his way down the sidewalk, snapping a sharp right onto the main road. I waited behind the tree across the street until the man disappeared around the far corner.

Keeping to the shadows, I ran across the street and stepped over the knee-high fence, plastering myself against the large tree in the front yard the second I saw Peggy in the front window. She twisted the wick on the lamp until the light vanished and she disappeared into the dark of the house. I snuck around the cobblestone path to the rear yard, peering into window after window as I went. Notes accumulated in my head. She seemed to be the only one home, Peggy herself heading into the bedroom and shutting the door.

I checked a few windows on the opposite side of the small house and I felt like the luckiest man on earth when one opened with ease—she should really lock her windows. I hoisted myself up and through the window, sliding head first, being as stealthy as possible. My hands landed flat on the floor and I snaked the rest of the way into the room. Once my feet were clear of the sill, I pushed myself up.

A barrel of a gun was staring at my nose. The click of the safety releasing tore through the fabric of silence covering the room. Finger ready on the trigger.

“What are you doing here?” Peggy asked with a glint of a dare in her eyes, keeping the gun steady.

I swallowed down the terse knot in my throat. Slowly I moved until I was resting on my knees, hands up at my shoulders. Fingers spread wide, “I need to talk to you. That’s all.”

“What would we possibly have to talk about, Sergeant Barnes?”

“Steve.”

Another click resounded as she set the safety on the gun and lowered it until it was pointing at the floor. She seemed genuinely worried about him, her voice trembling as she posed her questions. “Captain Rogers? Is he hurt?”

“He’s fine. Healthier than he’s ever been in his whole life.”

A breath of relief wisped from her lips. Her hand fluttered to her heart as though she was trying to stop it from pounding. “Then what is it you feel is so important you broke into my family’s home in the middle of the night to tell me.”

“When you’re around, I cease to exist.”

Her pink tongue touches her red lips as she fights back a smile. “So…he…likes me?”

I get to my feet, head shaking at her joy. “Look, I don’t know what game you’re playing with his heart, but you need to stop.”

“Excuse me. Game?”

A frustrated breath hits the air and I accused with a pointed finger, “Everyone knows you…you…fondue with Stark.”

Her eyes widened. “I don’t fon-aything with Howard Stark.”

“Steve said…”

“Captain Rogers misunderstood that discussion in the plane. As for who I have an interest in, it’s none of your concern, Sergeant Barnes.”

“But it is of my concern. I’ve been the one taking care of Steve. Our whole lives, I’ve been the one protecting him…there for him when he needed a shoulder…”

Peggy’s hands planted on her hips, her head up and jaw stern. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Steve is capable of taking care of himself now. I’m sure he can handle making his own decisions.”

She called him Steve.

As Peggy stares me down, her hands loosen from her waist, dropping free. Her hard gaze turns soft, almost sympathetic. “You love him, don’t you?”

I turn away before her scrutinous gaze can read anything else. “Just leave Steve alone, Peggy. He already has someone who cares for him more than life itself. You’re going to do nothing but confuse him.”

Before she could respond, I bolted. The front door hit the wall behind it with a house jarring BOOM and I took off into the night. I had one week to prove my love to him, one week before the mission in the Alps, one week to beat out SSR Agent Peggy Carter as far as Steve’s heart was concerned.

#

“That week I shared with Steve was the best one we’ve ever had. Then the train mission, and I don’t remember anything after that…until the incident in DC.”

Colin has been listening to me talk for the past few hours. With a kind ear and big heart, he sits, chin in hand, at his kitchen table while I pace around the room and reenact the first concrete memory I’ve had since…

Well, outside of my dreams anyway.

“That explains why you ignored me and just daydreamed on the bus ride home.” He takes a few breaths that border on a heavy sigh. “Okay, so you remember this Peggy Carter. I’ll add her to our must find list. Maybe she’ll remember something. Otherwise…”

Colin falls completely silent, his lips pressing together. Those puppy dog eyes are ever so sad. He takes to rubbing through the stubble on his chin with his finger and thumb like a man in deep thought, though he’s a shallow pool. I could probably guess everything he has in his mind right now.

“You don’t know if you can find Steve,” I say, sitting across from him.

“Steve Rogers. The Captain America. We might know his name, but finding an address, a phone number…being he’s a government operative…” Colin stops fidgeting and stares at me. “…I’d have an easier time finding information on Jake Adams, iii—the man who owns half of Boston—than I would your Steve. It will be near impossible.”

I never once thought it would be easy to track him down. I don’t accept missions lightly. “I understand.”

“In the meantime, we have Peggy Carter to find. Let’s hope she’s still alive and can give us something about you or him.”


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Ending Notes: Thank you fro reading! The images are my own, screenCAPped from my copies of Captain America: The First Avenger. The gifs were found on giphy.com

 

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