Crash Landing
Skye put her training to good use and disappeared from the old SSR base without anyone noticing. She made it to your doorstep in under a day and now stood there for a moment, steadying her breaths and nerves like May had taught her to. She’d called you on the way to make sure you were home and alive and didn’t suspect anything, but unfortunately wasn’t able to get any clues as to why you had shown up on both SHIELD’s and HYDRA’s radar. She gripped her spare key tightly, took a deep breath and slid it into the lock near soundlessly.
---
Steve would be coming by again today, bringing a friend along who’d helped him on his search. You’d just put the dinner in the oven some minutes ago, so it would be ready when they arrived later that evening. Since there was nothing else to do for the time being, you were just lounging on the couch lazily flicking through the TV guide, feet tucked under and head leaning on James’ shoulder when you heard the door lock click softly. Which was strange and alarming, considering only two people besides yourself had keys to your apartment, one of whom was sitting next to you and the other was probably half a country away at least. James stiffened next to you, muscles tensing, going into fight mode preemptively.
“You heard that, too?” he whispered so lowly that you had to strain to hear. You nodded, already rising from the couch and going for your trusty baseball bat, which you had stored near the door. You sincerely hoped this wasn’t some HYDRA lackey trying to pick your lock, but if it was they’d get what was coming to them. James was not even a step behind you, fists clenched. The door clicked ominously.
“Go hide.” You ordered.
“What? No!”
You rolled your eyes, throwing him a look over your shoulder.
“Whoever that is, they can’t know you’re here.” You hissed. “Go get out of sight. If things go south, you’re more than capable enough of sorting them out with five extra steps to take.”
He scowled at you for a moment, but relented eventually, slinking back behind the corner of the living room. You nodded your appreciation and crept closer to the door. Whoever was on the other side was very invested in not being heard. They turned the lock so carefully that the clicks were barely audible. Had you not been done in the kitchen or had the TV been running already you very likely wouldn’t have noticed. You gulped and gripped your bat tighter, extending one hand towards the door handle. Sucking in a breath, you tugged the door open, bat raised halfway and ready to bear down on the person trying to get into your apartment.
“Oh, um, hey.” Skye said, awkwardly rising to her feet again from her hunched down position. “Surprise?”
“Are you fucking kidding me? I almost had a heart attack!” you whisper-shouted, letting the bat fall to pull her into a hug. For a moment, everything else faded into the background, James, HYDRA threats real and imagined, imminent guests and the question of how your best friend ended up trying to sneak into your apartment when by rights she should have been off somewhere doing secret spy stuff and protecting the world from fascist cults. You squeezed Skye tightly, suppressing a dry sob. Phone calls just didn’t cut it in the long run. You had missed her.
“Come in, come in,” ushered her inside urgently, picking your bat back off the floor and closing the door. “Why are you here? What is it? Is something wrong?”
Your rambling was interrupted by a squeaky little meow. Skye’s head snapped around so fast you feared she’d give herself whiplash. James stood pressed to the wall like a deer in headlights, struggling to restrain an unhappy cat. Oh, you thought absently, yeah, there was that, too.
“Um, hi.” He waved awkwardly, releasing the squirming cat. Skye stared, mouth actually hanging open unflatteringly.
“You …you are… Are you seeing this?” she stuttered, swiveling around to you for only a second before turning back. James ran a hand through his hair nervously. It was only then that Skye registered the metal arm on more or less full display. Her eyes widened even further.
“Holy crap!” she exclaimed. “You’re Bucky Barnes!” James nodded, hesitantly as if someone would jump out from some corner and accuse him of lying.
“I did a history project on you in middle school!” Skye blurted out, still trying to process the situation she had just been thrown into.
James pulled a face. “Sorry, did you get a good grade at least?”
“Yeah I got an A,” she answered in one shallow breath, sinking down on the edge of the couch, “And you’re the Winter Soldier.”
“Unfortunately, yes. That too.”
Skye twirled around to you and your guilty face. “Explain.”
“Well, you see, it’s …um …well…the thing is… uh-” you faltered, looking to James for help. He just shrugged. Great. Very helpful. Actually, he looks somewhat terrified, so you might cut him some slack.
“Oh my god,” Skye groaned, fingers raking through her hair, “Has he …have you been here this whole time?”
James took a tentative step closer, hunching down a bit to diminish his imposing frame. “Pretty much, yes.”
She sighed, fixing you in a scowl. “And you didn’t tell anyone. Of course you didn’t tell anyone. I am not even surprised.” Just a little wounded that ‘anyone’ hadn’t included her, you surmised from the way her lips pursed, but considering she hadn’t told you that she’d joined up with SHIELD until well after the fact you reckoned that particular bet even, though it would need some talking about eventually, and privately. You sat down, suddenly exhausted, dragging a hand over your face. A few deep breaths allowed you to process this new development.
“Wait, wait,” you started, thinking back to the phone call earlier in the day. “If you didn’t know that, then why are you here?”
“HYDRA put some bloodhounds on the Captain’s trail and he led them straight here.”
James gave a choked noise of distress, hands flying up to press against his temples. Oh no. this was all kinds of bad. You bounded over to him, no time for fear over HYDRA being onto you flaring up at the more pressing matter of keeping your traumatized ex-assassin from freaking out. You slung one arm across his quaking shoulders and pressed the hand of the other to the side of his face, making him look at you.
“Jamie,” you said urgently, pressing your forehead against his. His breath came in short puffs as he clung to you tightly. “Jamie, I need you to try and calm down, okay? Breathe with me.”
“Shit, shit, I’m so sorry!” Skye exclaimed somewhere behind you, but you waved her off for the moment, concentrating instead on getting James to join in with your deliberately slowed breathing. In, hold, out, slowly, in, hold, out. He slid down a bit, slumping down on his knees with his face pressed to the side of your neck. You trailed your hand through his hair and down the back of his neck in rhythm with the breathing. Eventually, it took hold and you felt him relax properly against you, the arms that had been holding you tightly slackening. Skye approached cautiously with a cup of water. You marveled at how quickly your evening had gone deeper south than Ushuaia in a matter of minutes. And the planned guests hadn’t even arrived yet. With or without a potential tail of squids.
“Are you here…officially?” you asked Skye tiredly after making sure James was sufficiently settled down again after his near-panic attack. Skye’s guilty look told you everything you needed to know.
“Mary-Sue Poots…” you began sternly, but lacked the energy to go on. The little episode had utterly drained you. You made yourself as comfortable as you could while kneeling on the floor with a still slightly trembling super soldier clinging to you. You took the offered cup from Skye at last, nudging James gently to take a sip. He did so with a small ‘Thank you’. A quick glance at the clock told you that you had about half an hour before Steve and his friend were due to arrive, so that should at least give you all enough time to clear this up. You turned to Skye.
“Start talking.”
---
"So basically, they set someone on Steve simply to be thorough." James concluded eventually, having regained his calm and gained a single-minded focus.
"It might have something to do with him tearing through a number of their bases like in the old days, but if they even just suspected you were here I'm pretty sure they'd have made a move already." Skye answered. You flinched, another wave of nausea settling itself low in your stomach. Of course, it had been naïve to assume that HYDRA wouldn’t find you eventually; you’d just hoped to have things far more sorted out by then.
Your oven beeped shrilly, signaling that the lasagna was done. In light of recent developments you’re glad to have made far more than necessary for the expected amount of mouths to feed, then again you’ve well and truly lost your appetite by now. Nevertheless you got up to see to the food, simply to have something to do that makes sense.
The doorbell rang, and you walked over like in trance. Steve smiled hesitantly, offering you another bottle of wine, Italian this time. You smiled weakly, trying to catch a glimpse of his companion. If this evening held any more excitement in store for you you’d rather get it over and done with.
Steve looked concerned for a moment, but stepped aside to reveal his companion, the ‘friend’ he mentioned multiple times during your conversations. The ‘friend’ turns out to be Sam. As in ‘Sam from the hospital’ Sam. You gaped a moment, the greeting getting stuck in your throat while the pieces slide into place. Steve knew you knew Sam, however briefly. Steve had deliberately not mentioned this or the fact that he’d been in the same damn hospital as James for at least a full week. Steve, you concluded, was a grade A troll.
“You” you said tersely, zeroing in on the Captain and the barely concealed smirk he wore, “Are a contrary pain in the ass.”
A snort could be heard from the living room. Under different circumstances, you would have been equally amused. As it is, all you can do is sigh wearily.
“Come in.” You stated simply. “There have been a few interesting developments. I’m so glad there’s wine.”
---
The apartment felt overcrowded, but James was determined to keep it together, too proud to have a second meltdown in the same evening even though his skin felt too tight and his muscles locked up with tenseness. His stomach felt non-existent, but he ate simply to have something to do, something to concentrate on that wasn’t worrying about HYDRA coming back for him, or worse even, HYDRA coming for you, or Steve, or your friends. Skye he had recognized immediately from the photo in your shelf, but the man Steve had brought along looked frustratingly familiar. He threw a sideways glance at you shoving your food around on your plate and taking sips from your wine glass more often than not. He forced his mind into stillness, zoning out of the conversation that mainly happened between Steve and Skye, trying to ground himself by surreptitiously stroking across the ‘James Buchanan Barnes’ written on his right wrist.
“…okay, man?” James jumped, knocking his knuckles against the edge of the table. Steve’s friend was looking at him with a raised eyebrow. Sam. The guy’s name was Sam and it drove James nearly mad to not be able to place him. He was sure he’d seen him before.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I asked whether you’re okay.”
He seemed genuinely sympathetic, as far as James could tell. Which was a nice change of pace from what he was used to from HYDRA, but James wasn’t just going to pour his heart out to an essential stranger. Why did he even care? He must have known what he had done as the Soldier. He briefly considered deflecting, but decided that he had no nerve for whatever discussion would ensue from that.
“Just a headache, it’s fine. Thanks for asking.” Manners, he’d found, were a very effective social lubricant. In truth, his head felt like it might split in half. He suppressed a groan of pain, and another one of pure annoyance when he found that the whole table had halted in their discussion to stare at him dubiously.
“Stop that.” He told them.
“Why don’t you-“
“No pills.” He was adamant about that. Very adamant indeed. He doubted any regular pharmaceuticals would work on his enhanced metabolism anyway, if the way HYDRA handled anesthesia was anything to go by. Great, now his arm flared up with phantom pain, too. James rose abruptly, knocking his chair backwards a few inches.
“Just …need a moment. Carry on.” He muttered, steadying himself on the table a moment before walking the few quick steps to the bathroom before anyone could protest. He splashed some water on his face, cold but not freezing. A look in the mirror told him he looked awful in a way that a proper haircut and good food couldn’t counteract, with his pallid complexion, five o’clock shadow and deep dark circles under his hollow eyes. You had graciously allowed him to share your bed a few more times, but he couldn’t …that was an entirely different grave he was digging for himself. And he should really stop taking advantage of your kindness like that but it was so incredibly soothing not to be alone, to wake up with the warmth of another person near. He would have to sort out his increasingly conflicting, decidedly non-innocent feelings sooner or later…
And now he’d brought HYDRA right to your doorstep. He’s on his knees before he can even complete that thought, dry-heaving for a moment before two generous servings of lasagna (or what’s left of it) make their way back up his throat. No Sam, he was definitely not okay, but thanks for the concern considering I threw you off a damn Helicarrier after clipping your wings.
Wait, what-
Wings?
“Mrreeow.” Becky intoned, head-butting his thigh.
“How did you even get in here?” he asked the animal as if he genuinely expected a reply. The cat mewled plaintively at the partly cracked bathroom window. Okay then. He rubbed her head appreciatively before rising to his feet and rinsing the bitter taste of vomit from his mouth.
---
You should probably stop drinking, you thought as you poured yourself another glass. There was a beat of uneasy silence as James threw up in the bathroom, clearly audible through the thin door and otherwise open main room of your apartment. Your stomach churned along out of sympathy and, you suspect, the unfavorable wine to food ratio. Your guests seemed to have suddenly lost their appetites as well.
“Today started out so good…” you groaned, rubbing the bridge of your nose. Steve started to speak, but you shot him down before he could even get out a peep, that’s how stressed you were. You knew what he wanted to say anyway; his expression spelled it out pretty clearly.
“No, leave him be. If he’s not back out in five minutes, I’ll go. Don’t be a mother hen.”
It’s incredible how fast you went from nervous awe to unblinking dressing-down considering you’d only met this man in the flesh less than two weeks ago. Skye certainly seemed to think so if the way her eyes widened was anything to go by.
“You, of all people, don’t get to criticize others for not wearing their pain on their sleeve.” Sam said levelly, but not unkindly. You got the distinct impression that this is a point that has been made before between them. Besides, if he’d been punished for every display of perceived weakness he’d think twice before admitting to it, too. You said as much, plunging the table into another bout of stricken silence.
James returned from the bathroom, face carefully schooled into a mask of neutrality. He stopped short upon sensing the severe mood, but you mustered up a reassuring smile for him. No sense in letting him think he was somehow responsible.
He took your cue and sat back down, shuffling and frowning under the gazes thrown his way. You clinked your glass to his still half-full one (and he wasn’t on his third refill like you were) and dispassionately declared that there was dessert to be had if anyone wanted.
Then, like in a bad sitcom, there was a knock at the door.
“Well, your cooking is pretty great.” Skye quipped, easing you out of the sudden freezing sensation that had overcome you at the sound.
“If it’s HYDRA, salespeople or Jehovah’s Witnesses…” you began vaguely, rising to get the door. You didn’t sway, which you were proud of, but you did feel a bit over-light as you stepped into the hallway, clutching your trusty baseball bat.
On the other side of the door, hand raised to knock a second time, stood an unremarkable looking middle aged man and a young woman around your own age. They didn’t immediately look threatening, but that might have just been the point. At this stage, you’re ready to expect anything.
“Can I help you?!” you all but growl. They looked taken aback.
“Are you Miss _________?” the man chances, throwing a calculating look at your bat.
“Depends. You from SHIELD?” you continued, your speech slurring just the slightest bit. They exchange a rather meaningful glance. You’d run out of patience an hour ago, so you just waved them through and turned back inside.
“We could be HYDRA.” The man protested weakly. You threw him a withering look over your shoulder. All in all it’s probably not the best first impression to make. Not that you really care anymore.
“Yeah, well, I’ve got an apartment full of people both willing and able to fuck you up if you are, not excluding myself, so…” you gestured vaguely, “Running at this point will be regarded as an admission of guilt, but we will give you a little head start. Probably. You’re just in time for dessert.”
“Please tell me you know these two.” You said tiredly to Skye, not even bothering to put your bat away anymore.
“Jemma!” she exclaimed in surprise.