#no yn

“Why do we even need a medic? We pay her to sit around and do nothing!” 

Guy was back on his high horse, ranting about how the Justice League (newly renamed) didn’t need a glorified babysitter, as he so lovingly coined your position. He was leaning against Micheal’s desk, ranting to him. 

You were at his side, in the process of relocating Guy’s shoulder. 

Guy had been against you from the day you walked in the front door. A member of the team, a metahuman, who did nothing but housesit and put on bandaids. Guy hated useless things, and his eyes, you were useless. Guy hated you with a fiery passion. 

At least the feeling was mutual. 

“Okay, back in place in three, two-”

“I don’t need a count down! Just do-”

You thrust his joint back into place with more force than necessary. 

“Ow! Fucking hell, that hurt!” His accent slipped in thicker than usual as he cussed you out. 

You took a generous step away from him. “Any other notable injuries?”

“I dunno, you tell me!” Guy began circling his arm, cradling the joint with his free hand. 

You looked him over, scanning him for any signs that he was injured. You noticed a cut on his cheek bone and lifted your hand to heal it. 

“Hey, hands off the merchandise!” Guy spat and batted your hand away. 

“You just-” You sucked in a deep breath, then let it out, squeezing your eyes shut. “Fine. I’ll help Kendra now.”

You spun on your heel and stalked off to Kendra’s room. You knew she had a few cuts and scrapes, but nothing major. 

As you left, you could just make out Micheal saying something, but couldn’t make out what. However, you could hear Guy curse at him and knock something to the floor. 

You didn’t care what they said, it didn’t matter. You made your way to Kendra’s room and knocked on the door.

“It’s me,” you called out. 

“Come in,” you heard her huff from the other side. You walked into her room and sat down at the edge of her bed. She was reclining on it, swiping through her phone. “Another fight with Guy?”

“I don’t know what his problem with me is!” You burst, waving your arms for punctuation. “It’s like I can’t do anything right!”

“Well, yeah. He’s got an itty-bitty pea brain.” Kendra held up her two fingers close together, expressing how miniscule Guy’s brain was. “Maybe you should be asking why it bothers you so much.”

“Ugh, not this again,” you groaned and flopped backwards onto her bed. “I do not like that- that- oaf!”

Kendra snorted. “Yeah, sure, that’s what you come and mope everytime he gets mad at you.”

“He’s always mad at me,” you mumbled, staring at her ceiling. 

“And you are always moping,” Kendra countered. “Soon Micheal is going to get fed up with it and make you two fuck it out.”

“Ew, you are disgusting," you shot her a dirty look. 

She simply shrugged. “Fucking it out usually works.”

“Fucking it out,” you said with exaggerated air quotes. “Does not in fact, always work.”

“Have you tried it?”

“No!”

Kendra shook her head. “Then don’t tell me it doesn't work. If you don’t want my help, go ask one of the other boys.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, right, that will go over well. I’m sure they want to hear all about my problems.”

“Clark might.”

You paused. “Clark might,” you agreed. “He gives good advice. I’ll talk to him.”

Kendra waved you off, like she couldn’t care less what you did with yourself. 

You left her room, closing the door behind you. You walked back to the entrance to headquarters. Guy was still talking to Micheal, but the conversation abruptly died down when you walked in.

“Have you seen Clark?” You directed your question to Micheal, not keen on starting conversation with Guy again. 

“See?” Guy hissed at Micheal, gesturing towards you. 

Micheal rolled his eyes and ignored Guy. “Yeah, he already left for work.”

“Oh, okay,” you shrugged. “I’ll catch him tomorrow.” 

You spun on your heel and made a hasty escape before Guy could yell at you some more. 

It was late. 

Or early, depending on how you looked at it. The Justice League had been out battling some Kaiju for the past seven hours. 

It was around two am when news coverage announced that the threat had been neutralized. You waited another half hour before the team burst into the base. 

Kendra was limping and clutching her side but didn't seem to be too beat up. Micheal looked generally unscathed, Clark as well. 

Guy, on the other hand, was a wreck. Clark was completely and fully carrying Guy, Guy's legs trailing weakly behind him. He could barely hold his head up, dipping and bobbing as he tried to lift it up. 

It felt like everything went in slow motion for a second. You could smell the burns and blood and sweat. You froze for a moment. 

“Oh god…” Your voice was choked with emotion. This was the worst you had ever seen Guy.

“Don't just stand there,” Micheal snapped. “Help him.”

“Right, yeah, okay,” you responded, your voice shaky. You forced yourself to move and kneeled in front of the couch that Clark deposited Guy on.

You lifted your hands to take his limp wrist in your hand to assess the damage. You let your powers flow through him, noting the worst injuries first. 

“Ruptured spleen, severe internal bleeding, lacerated liver, three broken ribs, dislocated collar bone…” you trailed off shaking your head. “I'm gonna need him to take off the suit.”

“Can you help him?” Clark asked, worry evident in his tone. 

“Yes,” you responded firmly. “It's just gonna suck.”

“Alrighty, I'll leave him in your hands. I gotta heal up too.” 

You hummed a response to Clark, which he took as his chance to leave and go back to his fortress. 

“Guy, I need the suit off,” you said gently, leaning closer to his head. You were kneeling on the ground in front of Guy, in between his thighs, crowding his space. 

“Fuck- fucking buy me ‘inner first…” 

Guy's voice was slurred and thick with his Baltimore accent. You barely understood him, but you had dealt with him drunk many times so you were able to make out his words. 

But you couldn't hide the relief you felt at hearing his voice. It meant he wasn't too far gone. You could save him. You had to save him. 

“Guy, I am taking off your ring.” You spoke slowly and deliberately, as if speaking to a petulant child, and started slipping his ring off. 

Guy suddenly tightened his hand into a fist and jerked away. 

“Facken ‘ell are ya doin?”

“It will be so much easier for me if you just let me take the suit off,” you pleaded with Guy. It was possible to heal him by skin to skin on his hand, but the closer you were to the injury, the less power and less of a toll it had on you. With such severe injuries, you weren't sure you would be able to do it without getting as close as you could. 

“Does it look like I care? Do yer job, or fuck off!”

You were seriously surprised he was still coherent. It had to be sheer willpower (which you supposed made sense) keeping him from passing out. 

“Guy!” You snapped. “That is what I am trying to do!”

“Then do it!” He growled, then winced. He groaned in pain, clutching his side. 

Fuck, you didn't have time for this. 

You cursed under your breath, finally caving to his stubbornness. Maneuvering to sit next to him, you took his hand and slid it up your shirt, placing his palm right above your heart. Your heart was the origin of your metahuman powers, so you hoped that if you couldn't get close to his injury, it might help to be closer to the source. 

You focused your energy into his arm and worked your way down to his gut. You sped up the healing process of his liver, then repaired his spleen. 

Guy cried out in pain as you relocated his collar bone. You tried to fix the ribs, but your heart skipped a beat, signaling to you that you were spent. 

You sagged into the couch and began gulping in air through ragged breaths. 

Guy slowly came to, yanking his hand away as soon as he noticed. 

“Fack were you doing?”

“Healing…” you panted, your eyes squeezed shut in pain. 

There was a beat of silence. 

“I need to be up your shirt to do that?”

You forced your eyes open. Guy was towering over you, standing with his arms crossed across his chest. You took a deep breath and pushed yourself to stand so that you could face him better. 

“Yes, Guy, I do. Because someone wouldn’t take off the damned suit so I could do it properly.”

“What kinda healer needs me naked to do a job?”

“Whatever, I’m done.” You shouldered past him, knocking into him. However, it did not have the intended effect. You stumbled and nearly crashed into Micheal’s desk. Strong arms shot out and steadied you. “Get off of me!” You snapped and twisted away from him.

“Woah, there. Jesus Christ, don’t push yourself so hard, you’re not made of energy.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” you seethed as you steadied yourself on your feet. 

“Whaddya mean?” Guy narrowed his eyes at you. 

You just rolled yours. “Stumbling in here half dead. You nearly died!”

“Oh, what do ya care?”

“Of course I care, Guy, I care a lot!” A flash of realization overcame you, and you blanched. To cover your tracks you kept talking. “I care about all of you, it’s my job.”

“You’re not paid to care about me,” Guy said softly. His gaze was so… gentle, it was unlike him. It made you uncomfortable. 

“I care about all of you,” you repeated. “And you’re not Superman, you can’t be reckless like that. You were on the verge of-”

“Oh, Superman this, Superman that, I know I am not Superman!” Guy snapped, crowding your space and sticking a finger in your face. 

“Then stop acting like you’re indestructible like him!”

“Right, cause he's Mr. Perfect!” Guy sneered at you. His face was red now, anger prominent in his features.

“You're not listening!” You stuck your own finger in his face. “Superman has the sun, you only have me. I barely healed you this time, what if I can’t-”

“Then maybe you should get better at your job! Maybe you shouldn’t be a useless piece of shit!”

You blinked and physically reeled from his words. That had to be the cruelest thing he had ever said to you. He had implied before that they did not need you, but this was the first time he called you useless outright. Tears pooled at the corners of your eyes and you ducked your head to hide them quickly. 

You weren’t sure what to say. Maybe there wasn’t anything to say. All you knew was that you couldn’t be here anymore.

You turned and started walking away. You made your way to the front door and pushed your way out before he said anything. 

“Hey- wait!”

You didn’t. 

Once you were outside, the tears began falling. You couldn’t stop them no matter how hard you tried. Furiously wiping them away only made more fall. You were tipped over the edge and nothing could slow down your descent. Everything broke and snapped and you couldn’t hold it in anymore. 

Guy caught up to you quickly, snatching your arm and pulling you to a halt. 

“Let,” you drew in a ragged breath. “Go!”

Guy hushed you and pulled you into his chest. He held you firmly and you were too weak from the overexertion of your powers to escape. 

“I- I hate you!” You cried as you hit his back with your fists. “I hate, hate, hate you!” 

“I know, I know…” Guy responded softly. “I deserve it.”

You felt like a child throwing a tantrum, but you were too emotional to temper your reaction. You continued to writhe and hit his back with your fist, but gave up after a while. You buried your head into his chest and fisted your hands in his shirt. You noticed that he wasn’t wearing his suit anymore. Funny. 

Guy had one arm wrapped around the small of your back, a hand on your hip. The other hand was on your shoulder, thumb swiping against the exposed skin of your neck.

In the beginning, it felt like you would never stop crying. But eventually, you did stop crying. It tapered off, leaving you snot nosed and sniffling. You had a flash of awareness that you probably looked disgusting and kept your head in Guy’s broad chest. 

The silence stretched, and seeing as Guy wasn’t speaking up, you decided to break the ice. 

“You suck,” you mumbled into the wet fabric of his shirt. 

Guy drew in a deep breath and let it out in a slow sigh. “I know.”

You tried wiping your eyes and nose with your hand, but it only made a bigger mess. Guy seemed to notice your attempts and let out a small laugh. 

“Just use my shirt, you already made a mess.”

“I am not going to blow my nose into your shirt, that's disgusting." You paused. “Even if you do deserve it.”

Guy sighed and removed one arm from you to dig in his back pocket. He pulled out a wad of napkins with a logo of a local sports bar on them. He held them close to your face so that you could see them. 

“I am not using your butt napkins.”

Guy let out an incredulous laugh. “Fucking- what? Butt napkins?”

“You could let me go so I could grab some tissues,” you suggested, but made no move to leave his hold.

Guy huffed and brought the napkins closer to your face. “Just take ‘em, sweetheart.” He dropped the ‘t’ sounds in the last word, making it sound more like ‘sweehar’, but you knew what he was saying.

At that, you finally pulled away to glare at him. “You don’t get to call me that.”

Guy’s smirk faltered for a second, but he rebounded quickly. “Let me help then,” he said, apparently opting to ignore your comment. He then shoved the napkins in your face, scrubbing the rough material into your nose. 

“Oh for fuck’s- fine, gimmie them!” You snatched the napkins from him and began cleaning your face and blowing your nose. 

Guy settled his arms around your waist and smiled down at you. 

Once you were done, you wadded up the mass of used napkins into a clean one and shoved them into your back pocket. When you looked up, Guy was still smiling at you.

“What?” You meant for your voice to be harsh and cruel, but it just made Guy smile wider. 

“You’re gorgeous, ya know that?”

You continued glaring at him. You folded your arms below your chest  and arched your back to get further away from him. “Wow, it’s crazy how you’re still talking and not a single apology has left your smug mouth.”

Guy closed his eyes and tilted his head back with a sigh. The motion made the tendons in his neck stand out, his Adam's apple more prominent. 

“You’re right,” he said after a moment. “I just-”

“You just what? That still isn’t an apology!”

Guy sighed again and dipped his head into the crook of your neck. You sighed and let him curl into you, too tired to fight back. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been given’ ya the asshole treatment,” he mumbles into your neck. 

You let out a scoff of disbelief. “The what?”

“Iss what my parents used to call how I treated girls I liked. The asshole treatment.”

“It’s what your-” Your brain caught up to his words and you let out a choked squeak. 

“Yeah, I know,” he mumbled and nuzzled closer to you. “Ya smell good.”

You didn’t know what to say. You were completely and totally stunned into silence. Guy Gardner liked you? The person who had been making your life at the Justice League a living hell for the past several months, that person, liked you?

“I’ve been jealous of you and Supershit. I thought you liked him. Iss why I lashed out when you mentioned him.”

“Clark literally orbits around Lois,” you laughed. “You were jealous of the one person I would never go for? He’s so not my type.”

Guy finally picked up his head and looked at you properly. “What is your type then?” He had a smirk on his face, as if he already knew the answer. 

You pursed your lips. “No comment.”

“C’mon, sweetheart, you said you cared about me,” he grinned and tilted his head closer to you. 

“I said I care about the whole team.” You felt heat creep up your neck. You averted your gaze and huffed. “You can let go of me now.”

“Where ya gonna go?”

“Home.”

You could see Guy frowning out of the corner of your eye. “Yer not still mad, are ya?”

“I don’t know, Guy. I mean I am a useless piece of shit. Why would you need me here anyways?”

Guy winced when you repeated his words. “I didn’t mean it…”

“Then why did you say it?”

“I’m stupid.”

You whipped your head to face him. He looked like a kicked puppy, downtrodden and sad. “You- what?”

“I’m an absolute idiot.” He rephrased his earlier statement with a sigh. “I don’t know how ta act ‘round girls I like. I’m just… mean.”

“The asshole treatment?”

Guy nodded. “The asshole treatment," he agreed. 

You sighed. “Say you’re sorry again.”

“I am so, so sorry,” Guy said earnestly. Hope flickered in his eyes as he looked at you. 

“You’re going to have to make it up to me,” you added. 

Guy grinned wolfishly and dipped his head to meet yours. “Now, tha’ I can do, hon.”

You pressed a hand to his lips before he could do anything stupid. 

“I'm still mad at you.” 

“I know,” Guy mumbled behind your finger. 

“And I do not like you,” you added. 

Guy cocked an eyebrow. “Debateable.” 

“And just because this is your way of- Guy!” 

Guy maneuvered around your finger and dipped his face into your neck. He began pressing kisses to your jaw, neck, and collarbone. He worked his way down your throat and back up.

“I’m listening,” he mumbled through kisses. 

“Clearly you are not!” You couldn’t help the raise in pitch your voice did as he continued pressing kisses into the hollow of your throat. 

“My way of…?” He quoted your earlier words to show he was in fact listening. 

You splayed your hands on his chest and applied a small amount of pressure, but he kept going. Fuck, this asshole was stubborn. And you were angry. You could at least give him a piece of your mind if he was going to continue being obstinate. 

“Just because this is how you show affection does not give you the right to say those cruel things to me.”

Guy lifted his head for a moment, flashing you a smirk. “Nah, this is how I show affection.”

He leaned down to kiss you once more, but you stopped him with a hand over his mouth. He huffed in annoyance. He used one of hands to pin your wrists to his chest.

“Will ya jus’ lemme kiss ya already?” 

“You called me a useless piece of shit!”

“I said I was sorry!”

“And that makes it better?” You sighed. “Guy, you scared me today. You almost died.”

The irritation on his features faltered. “Aw, hon, I know you’re madly in love with me, but Imma big boy, I can handle myself.”

“But you didn’t,” you pressed. “You were about half an hour away from bleeding out. Don’t do stupid shit like that.”

“I am a superhero,” Guy said softly, enunciating his words. “I made a vow-”

“I don’t care about your stupid vow if it gets you killed!” 

Guy’s eyes softened and he leaned down to press his forehead to yours. 

“I promise I will come back to ya, I always will.”

You cleared your throat uncomfortably. “I mean to all of us. Because we all care about you.”

Guy snorted an ugly laugh. “Baby, how long are ya gonna fight this?”

“I don’t like you,” you repeated to yourself. 

“Uh huh,” Guy agreed with you, slowly inching closer. 

“I seriously have zero feelings for you.” Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt Guy’s breath fan across your lips. 

“Mhm.” He hummed, pressing his lips softly to yours, but applying no pressure. You could feel the vibration of his answer with your lips. He held still, touching you, but making no move to push it any further. 

You opened your mouth to say something, but barely got out one word before your razor thin control snapped like a thread. The feeling of your lips brushing past his was just too much. You pressed into him and pulled him into a bruising kiss. Guy let go of your wrists and you threaded the behind his neck to pull him closer. 

Guy bit down on your lower lip, and you knew what he was doing, but the motion still elicited a gasp from you. Guy took the opportunity to kiss you deeply. 

Not surprisingly, Guy was a phenomenal kisser. With how much he ran his smart mouth, he sure knew how to work it. 

Guy cradled the back of your head in his palm, the other still wrapped securely around your waist. Guy kissed you until you were breathless and had to pull away. 

Guy wasted no time kissing the corner of your mouth and down your jaw, to your neck. He wandered until he found the spot that made your breath hitch, then attacked it with fervor. 

“Guy, Guy, you’re gonna- ah- leave a mark!” You tried to reprimand him angrily, but all that came out were breathy sighs. 

Guy ignored you and continued until he was satisfied. He pulled away to look at his handiwork and smirked. “That was the point, hon.”

You did your best to glare at him, but a yawn split your face. You brought up a hand to cover your mouth, yawning into it. 

“You must be tired,” Guy sighed. “C’mon, let's get you to bed.” Guy pulled away from you for the first time since he stopped you- just to throw you over his shoulder. 

“Guy!” 

“Yes?” He began walking back into the building. 

You sighed and gave up the fight. He was right, you were exhausted. So you folded your arms so you could prop up your head just a bit so that all the blood didn't rush to it. 

It was dark in the halls, so you didn’t notice until Guy sat you down on the edge of a bed that you were in his room. 

“Um, Guy?”

Guy had knelt down and was taking off your shoes. “Yeah?”

“We’re in your room.”

“I know.”

“So… where am I going to sleep?”

Guy shot you a look, one eye brow raised. “I know yer not an idiot, baby.” 

“I’m not sleeping with you tonight.” Your voice was firm. You leveled him with a serious stare. 

“I won’t try a thing, scouts honor,” he said and raised three fingers. 

You rolled your eyes. “It’s the other hand, idiot.”

Guy made a big show of switching hands before finishing taking off your shoes. Once he was done, he stood up and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Wait here a sec.”

You obeyed, your eyelids growing tired. You shut your eyes just for a moment. You opened them again when you heard Guy’s footsteps coming back. 

“Here,” Guy returned with a worn shirt that had the text ‘Michigan Wolverines’ around a football. “Put it on.”

“Turn around.”

Guy rolled his eyes, but complied. You quickly changed shirts and slipped off your shorts. You crawled onto his bed and crawled under the covers. The pillows smelled like his cologne and sweat. 

“Okay, you’re good.” You settled onto your side and another yawn struck you. You kept your eyes closed after the yawn dissipated. 

Soon you felt the bed dip behind you. Guy placed a heavy hand on your waist, but you were already drifting off. After over exerting yourself and sobbing your heart out, you were running on fumes. 

Guy pulled you against his chest and you leaned your weight into him. His chin rested on the top of your head. 

“I really don’t like you, just for the record,” you mumbled, fatigue muddling your words. 

Guy let out a chortle and pulled you closer. You felt him press one last kiss to the top of your head. 

“The record shall reflect it. Now go to sleep, hon.”

You complied with his order, not because you wanted to listen to him, but because you were already half asleep. A few more moments, and you were dead to the world.

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"Because I want to be!" Gon answers with that cheerful smile of his.

"Because Gon suggested it." Came Killua's quiet reply from behind, his chin on your shoulder.

You three were put on the small pullout couch since you were the youngest of the group. You were put between the two of them by Leorio after the first night because they wouldn't stop throwing pillows at each other and disturbing his "beauty rest".

His words. Not yours.

Gon laughs nervously in the dark room, hoping you don't mind their antics too much. His chin resting right on your chest, his eyes sparkling somehow in the lack of light.

"Yeah, I can see that." You murmur, slowly. You were unsure of where to put your hands so, betting on the safest option, you slid one around Gon like a one armed hug and the other going behind you and around Killua, not restricting, just there.

"That and it's cold in here. The only thing Mister Tonpa and Leorio can agree on is maximum AC." Gon whispers as if it's a secret.

You had to admit the truth there. The middle aged man and teen perv couldn't see eye to eye on much else aside a cold room to sleep in.

"And you're cold from that?" You ask as Gon hugs you more firmly as it becomes apparent you're not uncomfortable. You don't move away from that, you're used to his random hugs by now, even while laying down.

"We both are." Killua speaks first this time, seeming content with the sleeping arrangements as well as he doesn't move away from your hand around his torso. "And you're already warm from the blankets."

"Woah, I'm shocked, Killua. You can get cold?-"

"Hey! Shut up and go to sleep already!" Leorio yells at you three from where he laid. He was still awake from the stench of Tonpa's feet in his face and your chatter.

You glare at him, or where you assume he is, from where you three laid you couldn't see him well, you were still slightly bitter from earlier.

Not the rock paper scissors thing, that you could forgive that and blame it on manipulation. You're still mad he cost you all a point in his match on a stupid bet of whether pinkie pie was a girl or a boy just so he could see that woman's breasts. Probably the first set he ever has seen and it just had to be then.

It's not like he could've waited until the exam was over and get a girlfriend. But noo let's see a criminal's tits while we're on damn a time limit!

Kurapika's small sleepy grumble from is the only reason you stay silent. You respected Kurapika and admired him, you didn't want to get on his bad side now. You say nothing, pulling the blanket up around all three of you. Irritation bubbling up in you.

Despite everything all of you have been through, you're still being treated like children. You left home to get away from that only to find it again in this new setting.

Killua, sensing your annoyance, gave you a small squeeze. "Hey, ignore him. We can keep talking." He murmurs against your shoulder.

As if on cue, Gon yawns. You can't help a small chuckle in amusement at the comedic timing.

"It's fine, Killua. We should sleep anyways. There's no way to tell the time, but we haven't exactly slept since we got on top of the prison." You reason with him and yourself. He nods, despite not needing to sleep himself. Assassin training for the win.

"Yeah, [Name] is right, we have been here for a while." Gon adds, one of his hands moves to hold Killua's arm, as if you three were in a large bear hug. "We should sleep. Even you, Killua. It's not good for you to stay awake for so long."

Killua tsks, pride clearly high despite Gon's concern for him. "I'm fine, I can stay up way longer than just this. I can stay up for three days straight."

"So can every highschooler, that doesn't make it okay." You reply, your tone as deadpan as you expression.

"Shut up." Killua mutters, disappointed his attempt to flex failed. "How long can you stay up, [Name]?"

"However long I need to. Now can we please go to sleep?" You requested, Gon already nodding off. Killua notices and sighs.

"Yeah, fine, whatever...idiot." He whispers the last word.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Liar. But fine. Good night, Killua." You are already suspicious of his normal sleeping habits if this was considered nothing to him.

"Good night, I guess. Good night, Gon."

"Goo' nigh'.." Came the drowsy reply from the normally optimistic boy.

"Out like a light." You whisper, rubbing circles into his back to gently correct his posture.

"You should sleep too. Since it's not okay to stay up this long." Killua mocks your words from earlier. Despite his mocking, he copied your hand motion for Gon but instead on you.

"Shut up, Killua. You first." You shoot back, hiding your face in the pillows. He smirks.

"Your ears are red."

"No, they're not. You're crazy."

"Heh. Sure, I'm crazy." He agrees but he's still mocking you. You know it. You pout then sigh.

"Fine. I'll go to sleep. But not because you told me too. Because I want to."

"Mhm. How about you quit talking about it and actually do it?" He suggests and you can't help but roll your eyes.

"Fine, whatever, jerk."

He chuckles into you shoulder, your grip on him tightening just slightly before relaxing as he continues the motion with his thumb.

You slowly relax into the couch, your eyes closing. Killua doesn't go to sleep, not immediately. He waits until your heart beat has slows, his own syncing up to it. Only a few minutes later does he follow you and Gon to sleep.

You angle the mirror on the napkin holder, adjusting it until you can catch the corner of the safe house’s main window in the reflection. As you reapply your lipstick, you note the number of people moving across the window. It looked like only three guys — two of them chatting amiably, and one looming in the background, a mask covering the lower half of his face. 

Drama queen. 

You update Clint on the situation, tapping out a quick message on your phone. 

I can see three guys. Look big. Classic security types. Probably more out of view. 

He messages back immediately. 

Good. Watch your back.

Clint had cut your vacation short last week with an unofficial request to help him scout a Hydra safe house. Apparently, the men he was surveilling had already seen his face, so he needed someone fresh. 

The CIA had been told, in express terms, to stay out of Hydra business, but Clint had needed a hand, and Natasha was somewhere across the world. Clint had said he didn’t trust any of the “SHIELD grunts,” so he’d fallen back on his resident CIA operative: you. 

You owed Clint. He’d saved your ass a few years back in Kazakhstan, and it wasn’t like you were doing anything more with your vacation than rotating between the bar and the shooting range, so you’d caught the next flight out to Minsk. 

You’re typing a message back to him when the barista pulls open the door and walks outside, carrying a steaming cup of tea in one hand and a croissant in the other. You frown at the pastry and set your phone face down on the table. You’d distinctly only ordered the tea. 

“Ot togo cheloveka, kotoryy stoit tam.” She explains, sliding the plate in front of you. “On skazal, chto lyubit amerikanskikh turistov.”

From the man over there. He said he loves American tourists. 

You look up, alarmed. Sure enough, a man sitting in the café raises his coffee mug in toast to you, face split into a teasing grin. You whip your head back to the safe house window; the agents are gone. Shit. 

You’re out of your seat and moving immediately, ignoring the shout of question from the waitress. Of course, it could all be a coincidence — the man could have no connection to Hydra, and the agents you’d spotted earlier could simply have moved out of view. The warning had seemed too blatant to actually be Hydra; surely, they couldn’t be bold enough to warn an American agent before they put a bullet in the back of your head. 

The window of the storefront you’re walking past shatters, glass shards exploding into the air. 

Oh, okay, then. You think, numbly. Maybe they would be so bold.

You lunge for cover, crouching down behind a car parked at the curb, then pull out your gun and click off the safety. Taking a deep breath, you duck down and dash from behind the car, ignoring the steady ratatat of bullets that follow your path down a nearby alley. 

No backup coming, you remind yourself. This isn’t an agency sanctioned mission. You’d need to get somewhere safer, and then text Clint an SOS. You move behind a heavy metal dumpster to catch your breath, then glance at your options. 

The alley’s narrow and dirty. There are no doors you can try and get through — it seems to serve only as a shortcut between the main streets. There’s the dumpster and no other cover; you’d have to move before they cornered you here. 

You’ve barely taken two steps forward before you feel the cold metal of a muzzle on the back of your neck. 

Damn. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Opustite pistolet.” A deep, slightly muffled voice snaps. Drop your gun. You obey, letting the pistol clatter to the cement.

You raise your hands, abandoning Russian altogether. It was probably too late to play dumb American tourist, since he’d seen the gun, but it was never too late to play dumb American. 

“Wow. Didn’t even hear you sneak up, bud.” 

“Na kogo vy rabotayete?” The voice answers. Who do you work for? 

“My Russian isn’t great,” You say, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “You speak English?”

In response, the muzzle of the gun pushes harsher against your skin. 

“Who do you work for?” The voice repeats in perfect English. You blink, surprised. 

“Someone’s taking his Duolingo lessons.”

The voice growls, then roughly spins you around by the shoulder to face them. It’s the surly man that’d you’d seen in the apartment window — slightly long, messy brown hair and a metal mask strapped across the bottom of his face. He’s dressed entirely in dark colors — black jeans, heavy boots, a leather jacket, and gloves. 

His finger slips onto the trigger of the gun, leveling it at your face. “The other agents are not far behind. I’m not going to ask again.”

“I heard you the first time, big guy.” You respond, sizing the man up. “Alright, then. Shoot.”

He blinks, and the gun lowers a fraction. “Chto?” What?

You use his momentary hesitation to make your move, grasping at the man’s wrist and pulling, slamming the heel of your heavy winter boot into his knee. He buckles with a shout of surprise, and you wrench the gun away from him, squeezing off two shots into the man’s shoulder. 

He grunts but redirects his momentum easily, and you scream in surprise as he seemingly shakes off the bullets to launch himself forward and throw you against the cement. Your head hits the pavement hard, and you scramble to drive your knee into his sternum as you blink stars away from your vision. 

The man flinches away, and you slam the butt of the gun against his temple, knocking him off of you. He rolls onto the pavement, but hauls himself back up onto his knees, and you curse. 

Jesus, was this guy a supersolider? C’mon. 

You struggle back up to your feet, vision blurring, and try to brace when he wraps his hand around your arm and throws you over your shoulder. You land hard on your back, and almost cry in relief when you realize the hard object digging into your hip through your jacket pocket was the souped-up taser Clint had insisted you take with you. 

You wrap your fingers around it, flicking it on, and squeeze your eyes shut, playing unconscious on the floor. Reluctantly, you allow your hand to flop to your side and relax your grip on the gun. You wait for the man to approach you, tracking his progress through his heavy footsteps.

When you can barely see his feet through your lashes, bending down to pluck the gun from your grasp, you bolt up and drive the taser into his side. 

He gasps as 15,000 volts course through him, and collapses. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You lay there and catch your breath for a few seconds, body aching and head swimming, before you realize there’s at least two more of the men chasing you down. 

As you grip the metal edge of the dumpster to gradually pull yourself up, you grope for your phone to shoot Clint a text. 

sos. ithink i hawe a concussion. fuc

Your vision blurs, and you can barely see the letters on your screen, so you blindly send the message and hope Clint will be able to read between the lines.

What? Are you okay? I’m at extraction pt. 

Fuck, okay. You’re going to need to disguise yourself — there’s no shot you’ll be able to overpower the other two men in this condition, and you still need to make it to the extraction point, an old bookstore about three blocks down from your current location.

You shrug out of your jacket, leaving yourself in a light hoodie. The harsh cold immediately bites at you, but you’re less identifiable after shedding the outer layer. You pull your hair into a tight knot at the back of your head and pull your hood up to shadow your face, then tuck the gun into the waistband of your jeans and step over the man’s body. 

After a second thought, you glance back at his mask. You wouldn’t be able to wear it for long, but it would obscure just enough of your face at a cursory glance that it could probably earn you a few spare seconds to escape an attack. 

You drop down to your knees, careful not to jostle the man too much, and feel around the back of his head for the straps of the mask. Deftly undoing the buckle, you pull it away from his face — and freeze. 

The man’s face was bruised (oops), and his features were slightly roughed up, but there was no mistaking it. You’d seen enough of Rogers’ pictures from the “good old days” to know: this was James Buchanan Barnes. 

Of course it was. You quickly snap a picture of his face and send it to Clint. 

this who ithik it is?

The message is garbled, but Clint responds immediately:

Is that Bucky Barnes?? Are you alright? Stay there. I’ll just come to you.

You have just enough strength to drag Barnes behind the dumpster, so you’re not as obvious from the mouth of the alley. If the two other men stumble across you now, you’re dead. You can only hope that Clint gets here first. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The next few hours are a blur, though that might just be your concussion. Clint had parked a very sensible minivan at the mouth of the alley and bundled you into the front seat, dragging Barnes into the back before peeling away. He’d driven a few blocks to a three-tiered parking structure. 

There, he’d swapped cars to a blue Lada Granta, snapping his fingers in your face to keep you awake, and bound Barnes’s hands and ankles together before shoving him into the small trunk. You were barely coherent for the entire affair. 

When you’d come back to yourself, you were reclined on a couch in what you were pretty sure was a CIA safe room, which Clint should definitely not be aware of, that asshole. Clint was clacking away on a computer next to you, feet propped up on an ottoman. A cursory look around the room revealed Barnes blindfolded and secured to a chair in the middle of the room.

When you push yourself up, Clint shuts the computer and throws you a bottle of Advil and a plastic bottle of water. You uncap it and take a long pull, then swallow a few pills.

“Thanks,” you say. Then, casting another disbelieving look toward the middle of the room, “That is Barnes, isn’t it?”

“Sure is,” says Clint. “Confirmed with Cap. He’s flying out now.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Your father was a history professor who focused on World War II at George Washington University, so you’d grown up on stories of the Howling Commandos. It was something you’d bonded with Rogers over; you’d passed along a few photos of the Commandos from your Dad’s archives through Clint. It was almost surreal to see Barnes in front of you, especially when he spoke flawless Russian and apparently worked for Hydra. 

Also, the guy looked pretty good for 100-something. 

“Isn’t he supposed to be dead?” You ask Clint. 

“Cap was positive he was dead.” Clint answers. “We’re still not sure if this is just Hydra fucking with us.”

You jolt up as you remember that you’d shot him earlier, swaying slightly until Clint stabilizes you. If this was Barnes, it probably wouldn’t be great if Rogers flew all the way to Minsk only to find him bleeding out on the floor of a CIA safe house. 

“Hey, where’s the first aid kit? I shot him twice in the shoulder when I was getting away.”

Clint’s phone buzzes and he picks it back up. “It's Fury. I have to take this.” He points to a small, red bag on the kitchen table. “It’s there. I gave him a sedative, so he should still be passed out, but be careful. Oh, also — watch the left arm. Looks like metal.”

Clint leaves the room, phone pressed to his ear, and you scowl slightly. Apparently, you were good enough to be smacked around in an alley for a SHIELD operation, but not good enough to hear the mission debrief. Whatever. 

You stand, ignoring the pain in your temples, and swipe the first aid kit off the table, bending over Barnes’ right side to observe his shoulder wound. You’ve barely prodded at it when Barnes jolts awake. 

That sedative wore off fast, you mused, as you backed quickly out of reach. 

“Welcome back to the land of the living, hotshot.” You say.

Barnes has a hazy look in his eyes. He jolts in the chair, pulling weakly at his restraints. “What?” He asks, bleary, and you raise an eyebrow. This is very different from the man that you had encountered in the alley. 

“Barnes?” You ask, suspicious. 

He's always reaching and grabbing one of your hands to be on his face and holding it there whenever possible. It's a reminder you're with him. It's always noticeable how much his face relaxes that way. At least when he knows for sure you both are alone or in safe company like with the Nameless. Except March anyways. She's tried a couple times to take a picture. He's almost shot her camera.

Also the times he lays on your lap. It doesn't happen too often since he has to constantly be on his guard so much from the IPC trying to track him down, but when it does happen, it's like he's a whole different person. Someone who's completely vulnerable. A softer side you don't get to see too often.

You drive him crazy in the best way, especially with chaste kisses. Every time it never feels long enough having your face so close to his to where he can feel your breath. A light tease that always leads him to hug you close.

With that closeness there's always a slight part of him that gets saddened he'll never be able to fully feel you against him like every other person that's not metal. Not being able to feel your hand giving him worries one day he might try to reach for it and there will be no hand to grab. That the one good thing he has is gone. Or how he could accidentally grab your hand too hard without meaning to.

Your hands on his face again always snapping him out of the thoughts and refocus on the present. You've been around him long enough to know when you need to stop his thoughts.

Just... you always being there to hold together what's left and help him keep his resolve for revenge, but being able to keep him from having just that alone to keep his spirits up.

Alpine and Reggie's hooves thudded softly against the mud road leading through town, heading toward the cobbled stable yard.

People milled about the town, men, women and chilren. Kids were playing cowboys with their fathers too-big cowboy hats and kicking up the sand as if they rode on horses. Shouting at eachother and fake shooting.

One man took the hat off a kid, smiling when he told the youngen off for something Bucky didnt hear.

Women in scruffy dresses carrying washing, food and other tidbits moved out of the way for the two men on horses.

But people didnt stare, they continued business as usual. Newcomers were not rare here, let alone passers by only asking to fill their stomach and spend a night in a good bed.

"D'ya think there'll be a good pub 'round here?" Steve hummed, turning to his buddy.

"Saloon looks clean and open. Maybe we'll get a hot meal."

The scenery changed when they came in to the stable yard. Busy atmosphere phasing over into a certain calmness where soft chewing could be heard from inside the stable.

Only one horse abandoned its food for a minute, popping its head outside to look at the newcomers. A pretty bay with dark, kind eyes. She whinnied low, to which Alpine simply snorted. Reggie pricked his ears, looking over but staying otherwise silent.

Steve petted his neck, swinging his leg over and dropping to the ground. "Hold him and i'll find the owner or a stable hand?"

Bucky steered the two horses to a tiny patch of grass, letting them munch on the lush greens. The grinding of their molars chewing the small tufts of grass lulled him into thought. The town was big, with pretty wooden housing and big painted signs. A general store and a saloon. A tailor that -according to the black sign out front- specialized not only in clothes, but tack and hats too.

Before too long Steve arrived back with a boy hot on his heels. "He says its two dollars a night, or if we stay a week its three dollars every two. and that places to stay are cheap."

Bucky hummed a sound of affirm, handing Steve his piebald back.

"If you'd just follow me, ill show you where you may house them and put your tack. Gelding, stallion or mare?" asked the boy, running a hand through his hair.

"Good o'l Gelding,"

"Alpine's a mare," Bucky couldnt help but take another look at the stable hand. He was yae tall, not towering, not short. His hair was cut roughly and pushed back out of his eyes, not too long, not too short. The clothes were also to be noted, a good pair of boots but the rest looked a bit tired. A worn pair of jeans and a loose, dirty gray shirt. Somehow it complemented him just fine.

"Alpine is a pretty name. For a pretty horse too."

"Sure, nursed her back to health when i found her as a little abandoned filly."

"you did a good job," he hummed, stopping and turning around to face the men, but talking to Bucky. "Com'on, ill take you down," then turning to face the blonde. "ill be back in a minute. dont stray too far." and off they went.

The walk down to the open stall was short, and a comfortable silence settled between them as they listened to the continued chewing from the horses. A couple pretty faces popped up to greet Alpine and the boy swatted away one mare who tried to nip. Before too long they were at an open, uninhabited stall.

"Here, a nice straw bed and some hay to munch."

"thank you, whats your name kid?" he asked, leading Alpine in and starting to undo and take off her tack. The bay horse from before poked her muzzle through the bars, letting Alpine smell her.

"here let me take that," the boy motioned to the saddle, carrying it with ease as Bucky continued. "They call me Mouse."

"how come? youre not so tiny."

"ah but i was when mister banner took me in."

"dont you got a proper name too, Mouse?"

"Sure i do, but everybody calls me mouse. i dont mind s'much. Most people got themselves a nickname."

"Well in that case you can call me Bucky."

he nodded quickly, letting Bucky leave the stall before he shut the door and latched it.

Bucky trailed behind him as he was shown the tack room and which empty hooks he could use.

The main stable had smelled of hay, warm horses and horse shit. all around not such a bad smell, but the tackroom somehow smelled better. Mouse had left, so Bucky took the opportunity to study the tackroom. It was clean, roomy and smelled of leather cleaner. The wooden walls were a deep brown, with two big windows, one out into the stable, and one out to the yard.

A lamp sat on the first wall, easy to grab in the dark if need-be. On the opposite wall was a door in the same dark wood as the walls. Tack-hooks covered the left wall except where the window was, and on the right were buckets of oats and grain for the horses alongside a green cabinet for medicine. Beneath the cabinet was a worn down wooden chair, with a frame infront of it. Perfect for cleaning tack.

He checked the door infront of him, finding it unlocked.

What he hadnt expected however was a tiny room with a bed pressed against the wall. Realising this was probably the stable-hands room he shut it, backing out until he stood in the middle of the tackroom. The few things he did notice was fhe room was walled with the same dark wood, that the bed was unmade with half a dozen blankets piled on one side, and that there was a little dresser on one side.

Shaking the thought from his head, he turned on his heel and walked out to find Steve again.

When Bucky found him, he was chatting lightly with the stable hand. Steve noticed him, turning and immediately exclaiming "did you know the kid owns the pretty bay Alpine said hi to earlier?"

"the one she neighbors now?"

Mouse nodded, prompting Steve to continute. "so shes only yours, do you gotta pay to have her here?"

"no, shes in reality mr.banners horse. His mares filly from about six summers ago."

"why dont he ride her?"

"shes got too much attitude in his opinion. he prefers her momma."

"so he gave her to you?"

"sure, mr.banner lets me keep her."

Bucky gave a chuckle, seeing the fondness creep into the boys face. It was clear he liked the pretty bay.

But instead of staying on his beloved topic, the stable hand hopped up on the stall door. "Are you goin to the pub tonight? gets real full on a friday. if ya'lls want a hot meal, better get there sooner rather than later."

"thanks kid, does everyone in town go?" Steve didnt turn around as he continued brushing the piebald gelding.

"yup, pretty much."

The light dimmed as the sun started to hide behind the clouds as they chatted. "are you going?"

"nah,"

Bucky raised a brow, taking over the conversation. "How come?"

"too much work to do."

~

"two hot meals for the gentlemen." the bartender hummed, sliding the two bowls to Bucky and Steve. The man wore an eyepatch, dark skin glistening from the heat as he poured a beer for a different patron.

Steve was talking to Mr.Banner, having found him in the crowd based off a rough description the stable boy had given him earlier. As the men chatted, Bucky tuned out, letting his thoughts take over.

His conciousness seemed to phase from observing the Saloon to thinking about the stable boy.

The saloon was spaceous, filled with tables and chairs, a set of stairs on the east side going up to another floor. Plenty men were playing for money. poker and cards complemented the full glasses of beer they chugged down. The man behind the bar currently was also known to be the town sheriff, mr.Fury. A pretty woman with pinned hair and pretty skirts helped serve at the bar. Steve seemed to have taken a liking to her, as bucky caught him staring at her on multiple occasions.

Bucky felt like he was zoned out as he took another spoonful.

The warmth felt like it perfectly mirrored the stable hands smile. He seemed to exude warmth, somehow. Happy to work, happy to be. He loved the horses, that much was obvious.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder snapped him from his thoughts. "Hey newbie. need somewhere to stay t'night?"

The man shone a toothy grin at him as Bucky nodded.

"Yeah, thought we'd find somewhere. could be handy."

"Well come to the hotel right beside here when ya'll are done. so you dont get lost. the name's Sam." He gave Bucky a firm pat on the shoulder.

"Thanks, Bucky."

~

The pretty bay was eating from the small patch of grass in the yard when Bucky went to the stables. Her headcollar was tied to the hitching post loosely by a dark red leadrope.

As he gave her neck a good scratch the stable boy came across the yard. His outfit was mildly different from the last time they had seen eachother. His hair was pushed down by a hat, and his mucky gray shirt had been switched out for a much nicer -albeit slightly bigger- brown shirt.

"g'day sir," he hummed, tipping his head in a greeting.

"goin out for a ride?"

"yup, gotta help the Carters herd cattle,"

The bay kept munching her grass as the stable hand threw the saddle over the hitching post. "cmon Willow, up ya come,"

her head shot up, staring disapprovingly at her owner. "yes i know you want the grass sweets."

"Her name's willow?"

"yup," he grunted, throwing the saddle over, making sure it landed softly on her smooth back. "she loves chewin on 'em, so why not name 'er after 'em."

Bucky smiled, continuing to itch her neck for her. He soon found a spot she seemed to love, since she started pushing the weight of her entire neck into his hands. "The hat suits ya."

"Thanks, its Banners old hat. Bit too small for him."

He flashed Bucky a toothy grin as soon as he got up on her back, to which Bucky chuckled, giving willow one last hefty pat, then looking up to lock eyes with the boy, "stay safe out there, doll."

"i will, sir." he gave Bucky another nod, this time using his right hand to further tip the brim of his hat before turning Willow and dissapearing out of the yard.

He gave a sigh, watching willow and her rider dissapear off. His grin seemed to have been burned into Bucky's scull, the image of him, smiling widely, face slightly shadowed by the brim of his hat. He was thinking of the way he had carried the heavy saddle against his hip, bridle hanging off his arm. The way wearing the hat seemed to make him feel more confident. How nice the brown shirt looked, despite hanging a little loosely, tucked into his jeans. Maybe hed come with to the Saloon tonight.

"earth to buck?"

He seemed to snap back to reality as Steve waved a hand infront of his face. Bright blue eyes stared at him, "you were out of it mate, the same look as when youve seen an exceptionally pretty lady."

"oh," he hadnt even realised. "really?"

"yeah, do the stable lad have a really hot sister or something? or is it mouse himself you like?"

Bucky simply waved the comment away, walking past steve. "cmon, get reggie. mr.Fury asked if we could pick up some stuff from the neighboring town."

"yeah yeah i know."

~

The trip went well and Fury had given them a fair bit of coin for their help, but Bucky couldnt seem to focus on it. Steve was talking about the fact that this could sponsor a good deal of hot meals on the road, but he couldnt bring himself to be excited to get back out there. Leave again, as they had done so many times. They usually only stayed a week, doing odd jobs for sheriffs to get a little coin, then continue on. In reality they were looking for somewhere to settle. Get a proper job. Find love maybe.

Maybe he really should ask if the kid wants to have a drink later.

"i wonder if miss carter will be at the saloon today."

"y'think shes pretty?"

Steve looked almost offended, then after a moment he seemed to soften. "i mean, she is, but thats not why."

"y'sure? apparently Mouse was gon' help out her family with the cows today."

"Aha! so it was him you were looking all starstruck about!"

Bucky rolled his eyes as Steve grinned triumphantly. "I wasnt starstruck, but okay."

"oh no you were."

"was not!"

"whats the yappin about?"

they had been so busy bickering that they hadng even realised a little company had come to the yard, led by the stable boy.

Half a dozen men, dusty and dirty with their horses not looking much better. Most of them tipped Bucky and Steve their hat in greeting as they passed, but willow was brought up to the hitching post beside Reggie and Alpine.

"Mouse, kid! you not takin' Willow i'side?"

"Gotta wash her off, mr.Carter."

The man nodded, accepting the answer.

"well you look happy," Steve hummed, having gone to Bucky's side of Alpine.

"Cow herdin is fun, nice to get out sometimes."

"heard it was out at Carters, thats Peggy's parents isnt it?"

"yuup, how'd ya know Miss Carter?"

As the two started chatting about the carter family, and that Steve maybe found the daughter pretty, Bucky started brushing Alpine. Her white coat slowly getting silky smooth, as she and Willow started messing about a little bit.

He watched quietly as Steve and Mouse chatted. How the boy leant against the hitching post, crossing one leg over the other when he was done untacking Willow.

And that his hair seemed damp when he took his hat off and ran a hand through the strands. How it seemed to shine in the hot afternoon sun.

Bucky sighed, almost longingly as the boy laughed.

"you should come down to the saloon, if everyone else is going."

"just might, if mr.Banner lets me slack off on some work."

"you always got so much work to do."

"thats what happens when youre the lone stable hand, Steve. Got a lotta stalls to muck and horse t' feed." He chuckled, giving willow a firm pat. "'Least i enjoy it."

Steve nodded, turning to his buddy. "'Ey Buck, what'cha say, should we put in a good word for him so he can have an evening off?"

"oh, uh" he realised he was being talked to, snapping his head up to meet Steves mischievous gaze. "Sure."

He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "if you want you can go talk to mr.banner now. he should be with the geldings, talking to mr.Carter. take reggie and i can take Alpine and Willow for ya."

"Oh, thank you,"

"Will do, thanks Mouse," Steve hummed, poking Bucky as he passed him to untie Reggie.

Two men could be heard talking as soon as they entered the stables. As Steve went to put Reggie away in his stall, Bucky went up to the two men.

"Ah hello Bucky!"

"hey, i was gonna ask, mr.banner, does Mouse have any more work today? we were gonna try convince him t'come to th' saloon with us."

Carter chuckled hartily. His face was all straight lines, rich with stubble and a good-looking mustache. "The kids always working isnt he?"

"hes a hard worker, never complains," Banner smiled, putting his hands in his pockets. "Hes got nothing else for today, other than dinner feed, but tell him im happy to do it."

"you give him so much freedom, like a good father."

Bucky hummed, not quite understanding why Mr.Carter found that to be so funny, so he gave a nod to Banner instead, quickly thanking him before scurrying off to find the Stable boy.

He found him giving carrots to the two mares, one for Willow, one for Alpine. The carrots gave way for the soft sound of horses crunching.

without looking up, he asks Bucky "sooo, how'd it go? and wheres steve?"

"still taking care o' Reggie, he'll prolly be 'ere soon. But it went well, you aint got no work to do later."

He finally looked up, smiling. He had such a pretty smile that soon turned flustered when he realised Bucky was looking at him.

"hey! why're you studyin me?"

"you look nice, is all."

"oh—"

Before the conversation could continue, a certain blonde popped up behind Bucky.

"Were you able to come with us?"

Bucky pushed steve off him, chuckling. "yeahyeah banner said it was fine."

.

"so you really never settle down?"

"nope, usually stay a week. then go again." he hummed, resting the side of his face in his palm.

the stable boy hummed, shifting in the barstool. "What's the goal with all the travelling then? a specific destination i suppose?"

"somewhere to live, stay. Hell id love to settle down."

There was no answer for a minute as the saloon kept going around them. they could hear Steve and ms.Carter, Peggy as she'd told them to call her.

"i suppose that makes sense," a sigh as he seemed to look anywhere but at Bucky.

The air felt like it changed, grew a little tense. Bucky didnt like it.

"what do ya say, Sweetheart, we could take a ride. take a look at the stars."

"thats so sappy."

Bucky watched as he took another sip of his beer. "so what? dont you want to?"

"course i do, id love to." he was trying to finish the drink. "if its with you anyway."

.

the night air was cool, and the sky was clear. not a single cloud to be seen, nothing to cover the endless amount of stars. The moon was crescent, giving just enough light to see, but not enough to hide the stars.

Yet bucky wasnt looking up.

Neither of them were.

They would catch glances of eachother as the silence grew comfortable. Bucky was just following, wondering where the stable hand would lead them.

The horses barely made a sound as they walked through the sandy path, only their breathing cutting through the quietness.

Soon another sound emerged. Water.

He couldnt see it yet, but the path started sloping down as the sound got louder.

when they got down the slope, both men hopped off their horses, and unclipped the reins to let them drink.

A tiny stream, water running along soft pebbles, grit and sand as tiny plants spouted in the wet dirt surrounding it.

As they sat, looking out across the land, Bucky spoke. "Its gorgeous."

"yeah, i love coming here."

a comfortable silence stretched between them, a symphony of calm. Bucky looked at him as if he were the stars, glistening and shining, lighting up the dark.

Eyes met his with a smile, and Bucky chuckled. "what?"

"You dont have to leave, yknow?"

the comment took him by surprise as he stayed quiet, trying to figure out what was meant by it.

"you and steve. you could stay. i bet fury could find work for you." he shifted, still looking up at the stars. "i dont think steve would complain, he could get to know Pegs better. and, you could stay, for me?"

He finally looked at Bucky.

"of course, sweetheart. i'd love to stay. for you."

☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

A/N ; This has been fun to write. it's not my best work, but its been a project for a couple days while i dont have internet.