Steve never had much reason to learn to drive as a kid. Living in Brooklyn, he could get anywhere he needed to go on the subway and it wasn’t like his Ma could afford a car anyway. Sure, he’d been in a taxi once or twice, and Bucky’s Dad even offered to teach him before money got so tight they had to sell their car. But there was no reason for Steve to go out of his way learning to work a piece of machinery that always made him nauseous anyway.
Steve was coming to sorely regret that choice.
Because right now the only thing standing between him and the success of his first sanctioned combat mission as Captain America was him being able to drive this damned motorcycle.
Steve watched carefully from behind a pile of weapons crates as a Hydra agent ran up to the bike, straddled the seat, lifted the kickstand with his heel, leaned the bike up straight, and then kicked down again to start the ignition. The bike roared to life.
“Easy.” Steve whispered to himself. “I can do that.” He sprinted forward and tackled the Hydra agent off the bike. With a swift slam of his fist the agent was unconscious beneath him. Steve grabbed under his arms and dragged the man out of sight.
Easily pulling the bike off the ground Steve straddled it, pushed the lever down with his right foot, twisted his wrist, and lurched forward, letting the vibration of the bike shake through his bones as he pulled himself to an unsteady stop.
“Where the hell are you, Cap?” Bucky grunted over the radio.
“On my way, Sarge.” Cap shouted back through clenched teeth and the bike sprung forward beneath him for a second time.
Steve dug his heels into the ground and released his grip, bringing the bike to a stop again.
“We’re running out of time, Stevie!” Bucky was out of breath, he sounded exhausted already.
“I can do this.” Steve whispered to himself.
“Cap! Get your star spangled ass over here!” Morita’s gruff voice carried over the radio.
Steve used his feet to push back a few paces. Gripped the handles tight, clenched his thighs around the body of the bike, and exhaled as he twisted his wrist. He leaned forward into the jumpy movement of the motorcycle springing forward, but didn’t slow this time. He went fast and faster toward a makeshift ramp he had pulled together only seconds before.
He felt the ground change to the wood boards he’d propped up against a few large crates, the bike grew louder pushing itself uphill, and Steve lifted his butt off the bike’s seat. Just before the rackety ramp came to an end, Steve pushed off the ground, bringing the bike with him as they flew through the air, up onto the low flat roof of the Hydra base.
“Holy fucking–! Did ya see that Bucky?” Steve celebrated once the bike was back on a flat surface, despite the wheels determination to zig-zag out from under him.
“A little busy here, Stevie.” Bucky grunted back.
A sudden boom went off behind Steve and he felt the heat of flames flare at his back. That was the reason Steve had separated from his team, the reason this had gotten so messy so quickly. When they arrived at the Hydra base, ready to break in and fight their way out until there were no Nazis left standing, they came face to face with more crates of explosives than any of the Howlies had ever seen.
Steve Rogers, in all his strategic glory, had quickly changed the plan. The Howlies would hold a line at the front, distracting the majority of the Hydra agents. Dernier and Steve would fight their way into the building, gather what intel they could, get out the back and rig the crates of explosives to blow on a delay, and fight their way back to the front. Only things didn’t go to plan, because Steve’s plans rarely did.
Instead Dernier got held up at the front, unable to follow Steve through his break in the line of Hydra soldiers.
“Fall back, Captain!” Bucky had yelled frantically through the radio when he realized.
But Steve merely replied with, “We only got one shot at this, Sarge.” And continued punching his way down the dimly lit hall of the base.
It wasn’t until he had made it out the other side to the walled-in back courtyard that Steve realized there was a reason Dernier was meant to come with him. Steve had no idea how to rig explosives on a delay.
With some frantic coaching over the radio, Dernier was confident the explosives were set, but had no idea how long Steve had before they’d blow without seeing what kind of explosives they were for himself.
“Captain, you cannot set it! It is too unpredictable! I don’t know how big the explosion will be or when they will go off. If you do not make it through the building in time you will be crushed alive!” Dernier begged between gunshots.
And just when Steve had begun to hesitate, he spotted the motorcycle and the wood boards on the ground he could easily use to make a ramp. “Don’t worry, I got an escape route planned already. I don’t have to go through the building.”
Now, speeding across the roof, Steve felt the thrill of success rack through his body. If it weren’t for his death grip of the handles of the motorcycle, Steve would’ve pumped a fist in the air.
But with a deep crack and a shudder of the roof beneath him, the pleasant tingle that had taken over his limbs was replaced with cold fear.
He gripped the handles of the bike impossibly tighter, denting them to the shape of his hands, as he tried to hold the wheel steady while the roof continued to shake.
Another boom let out and shook the building. Steve glanced to his left where part of the roof had been blown up into the air.
There were more explosives in the building.
Another boom and a shudder.
Steve risked a look behind him to see the roof was collapsing. Chunk after chunk crumbled away into the flames beneath, as a new crack raced toward Steve.
Steve whipped around to face front again, leaning forward and willing the bike to move faster, but by the time his vision steadied on the path ahead he was already at the edge of the building and crashing directly into the two foot high lip.
Steve and the bike flipped over the edge of the building in an entirely uncontrolled movement, plummeted down two stories and fell behind enemy lines.
His legs still straddling the bike, Steve grunted as he rushed to push the bike off his leg. Another boom let out. Men screamed to Steve’s right as they ran from the building. With his leg finally free, Steve reached behind his back for his shield, covering himself just in time as another explosion blew the facade of the building directly at him.
He held the shield steady as brick, glass, wood, and god knows what else berated him. But the moment it stopped he pushed back and to his feet, scanning the battlefield for the Howlies.
“Bucky!” Steve let out, walking out towards where he last saw his best friend.
“Cap?” He heard someone, not Bucky, return.
A hand caught Steve’s ankle, he caught sight of the Hydra symbol on the man’s arm and beat down with the edge of his shield. “I’m over here boys!” Steve continued forward, coughing from the dust and smoke still swirling in the air.
“I’d recognize that cough anywhere.” Steve whipped to his right to see Bucky coming out from behind a turned over truck, a relieved smirk on his face.
“Buck!” Steve smiled, pulling him into a tight hug.
“I saw you fall off the roof, Stevie.” Bucky whispered into his shoulder.
“Yeah,” Steve pulled back. “It was just a little fall though.” Steve started brushing dust off the shoulders of Bucky’s uniform.
“Then the building blew up on you.” Bucky deadpanned, slapping away Steve’s hand. Any joy or relief Bucky had been feeling at seeing Steve alive was wiped from his face and replaced with a look Steve knew his Ma had taught him.
“Yeah, but just–” Bucky swung back and punched Steve’s arm hard enough to make the super soldier flinch back. “Ow!”
“But it was just a little punch.” Bucky bit back.
“Found ‘em!” Dum Dum shouted, walking across the field, kicking weapons away from dead or unconscious Hydra soldiers. “They’re fighting again!”
“We ain’t fighting.” Steve gruffed, still clutching his arm as if Bucky’s punch could have hurt any worse than falling from a two story building and then getting blown up.
“We sure as hell are.” Bucky snapped. “And don’t even ask–”
“Where’s Happy?” Steve asked with new excitement, waving over the man he spotted in the distance. “Happy come help me with this, I found a motorcycle.”
“Steve, don’t you dare!” Bucky shouted after him.
“I think I’m gonna keep it!” Steve bellowed out to his men.
“No you are not!” Bucky’s words fell on deaf ears as Happy and Steve crowded around the wreckage of the bike.
“The damage looks superficial right? Think I could ride it back to camp?” Steve asked Happy.
“Well Cap, it was blown up.” Happy surveyed the damage.
“Yeah, but just a little.” Steve shrugged.
“Pick her up, we’ll see if it still starts.” Happy directed.
“Steve! You don’t even know how to drive!” Bucky was getting angry now, gesticulating wildly to the other Howlies to see some sense, but they were still combing through the battlefield putting down any enemy agents that survived.
“What are you talking about, Bucky?” Steve lifted the bike back onto its wheels and dusted off the seat. Smoothly, as if he’d done it a hundred times, Steve straddled the bike and kicked down to start the ignition. Pleasantly surprised when it roared to life. “I just learned earlier today. You should’ve seen the wheeley I popped to get onto the roof.”