INDY

“I knew he looked familiar,” I exclaimed to myself in the quiet of my office. On my computer screen was a digital file full of information on a man I’d just run into.

My keyboard’s f and n keys had stopped responding, so I’d made a trip into the city to get a new one. What were the odds I’d run into - and get hit on by - a person of interest to our little organization?

Dennis McKay was a private investor with stock in operations that we knew had previously been overseen by Hydra. Hydra’s main driving force had been nullified a while back, but the previous focus on Thanos and the Chitauri had given them the space and freedom of movement necessary for smaller stragglers to come back together, forming new cells that practically catacomb’d the world. The heads of Hydra had been hacked off, but its body was still squirming, trying to reform itself.

We dealt with threats from many different sources, so when any of them went quiet, it made me wary. The last we’d heard of Hydra was that guy Riley back in Pennsylvania, and he hadn’t told us much before his untimely death. I’d gone back and listened to the recorded audio from Bucky’s communicator dozens of times to make sure I hadn’t overlooked anything. But there was nothing to overlook.

I’d gone through every altercation and minor mission I’d sent the team on since then, running a second round of extensive background checks over every person involved. Nothing came back that I wasn’t expecting. Certainly no obvious ties to Hydra. It was grueling, but I’d slacked off a lot during the holidays and needed the extra time in the office.

The first few times I’d fallen asleep at my desk, the others had poked, shaken, and snapped me awake and firmly told me to go to bed. After the second week, I started waking up with blankets thrown over my shoulders and occasionally a bottle of water next to me. The dark circles beneath my eyes were getting harder to conceal with makeup.

Which is a large part of why I was so surprised when the tall, blond stud with good taste in fashion actually reciprocated when I got caught checking him out on the sidewalk as he’d walked past. He’d been talking seriously to a man at his side who looked like an assistant, a briefcase in his hand and a tablet balanced on his arm, apparently taking notes a mile a minute.

He had the kind of good looks you saw a lot in the 90s. Sandy blond, with a teen heartthrob type of face. He couldn’t have been older than 35, but the cut of his impeccably tailored suit spoke of sophistication and refinement. His eyes lifted for only a second to meet mine as I’d made my quick assessment, wondering why he seemed so familiar.

I had blushed and tried to glance away, but I’d caught the slow, sharp smile and appraisal of his own.

This is why you keep your eyeballs to yourself, Indy, I’d reprimanded myself. Passing by him had been mortifying. Both because he still watching me - even turning to look - and because I was intensely aware of the corny T-shirt I wore with a stylized cartoon of Thanos that read “Oh Snap!”

I hadn’t been expecting him to tap me on the shoulder, pretend I’d dropped something, and hand me his phone number. I’d looked down at it in shock, then up at him. He’d given me a wink before he turned to leave that made my eyes go a little unfocused. Damn, he was good-looking. And also, possibly evil.

Well, I thought, spinning around in my desk chair as I tapped my chin with the card with McKay’s phone number on it. We need information. He might have it. Even if he’s just a figurehead for his investment holdings, he might know something he doesn’t think is important.

Of course, that was wishful thinking, and I knew it. People on the other side of the board didn’t typically live up to our more idealistic hopes for them. The only one I could immediately call to mind who had, was Bucky.

I opened a drawer of my desk, pulling out one of the dozens of burner phones I had stashed and ready to go. I settled the card on my desk and stared down at the numbers, slowly typing them into the phone. One date. That’s all I would need to figure out if he knew anything - or was in a position to learn anything - that we could use to our advantage.

BUCKY

Sam had been watching me closely lately. Maybe because he noticed how much closer I was watching Indy. That day at Cellar Dog had changed something. She was… much more intriguing than I initially gave her credit for.

She had this habit of running her hands through her hair whenever she was stressed or nervous. I’d noticed before, but lately I couldn’t help watching the light shifting over the distinct tones as her fingers shook it out. Dark brown to a tawny color to dark gold. It hung in thick waves down her back. It had gotten longer since the team had formed.

She had a fondness for musicals. And I lacked the restraint necessary to keep myself from reaching a hand out to touch her shoulder gently when she sniffled over the more emotional parts. I hadn’t thought about it. Until I realized that my solid vibranium hand was settled decisively on her shoulder. For a gut-wrenching moment, I imagined she would cringe away, or shove my hand off. She didn’t even look up. She dragged a knuckle beneath her eye and leaned over against my - probably uncomfortable - arm.

Now if you ask me what my favorite musical number is, I’ll tell you it’s Somewhere from West Side Story.

She had become special to me. It felt as sudden as it was alarming. But her pain meant something to me. Her unprecedented acceptance had become vital to my everyday life. I didn’t know what these feelings meant, just that she’d somehow smooth-talked her way past my self-preservative impulse to shut her out.

Sam, annoyingly, seemed to think he knew exactly what was going on in my head.

“Just get it over with and admit you like her,” he pleaded in exasperation.

“No. Because I don’t.” I turned and shook my head at him. “I mean, I do- but it’s not like that.”

Sam rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Come on, she’s cute, she’s single. Apparently she’s one of the few people in the world you’ll smile for, now. What’s the problem?”

My words seemed to get stuck in my throat for a moment. “Look, Indy is… great. Really. But she’s our boss, technically. And she’s…”

He waited with an irritatingly smug look as I tried to find a good reason not to go for it.

“Young.”

“She’s 27, Bucky. About the same age as you when you went off to fight in a war.”

“Yeah, and we all see how that turned out.”

He sighed and looked away. I frowned at my shoes.

“Besides, I’m…” Too many ways to end that sentence whirled around in my head. None of them were good.

Sam put a hand on my shoulder. “You finally started opening up to people. Don’t stop now.”

He’d let the matter drop, mostly. But he was constantly giving me pointed looks when I laughed at something Indy said or when she did anything as simple as act casually toward me. I think he knew how off-balance those brief moments made me.

How can she be so… normal about me?

I wasn’t around them often, but the few other groups of workers and field agents here at the compound reacted about as I’d expected to my presence. Mistrustful stares. Some outright icy glowers. Mostly, people kept their eyes far away from mine. It was an uncomfortable experience, something that reminded me of being a teenager in a slightly more real-world-stakes kind of way. So I would hunch my shoulders and glare at the floor as I made my way through.

But then I’d make it back up to the fourth floor. And there she’d be. She’d smile and offer me whatever she was cooking or make some joke about whatever state I was returning in. Sometimes she would butt her hip against mine if I stood in her way in the kitchen for too long. I started doing it on purpose. A few times, she was cross-legged at the coffee table, putting together a puzzle with her mouth full of popcorn. Sometimes she would grumble to me about work things, some of them things I didn’t understand, and I would tell her what I thought Steve might say; he was always better at that sort of thing than me. She would tease me about how forced I sounded and I wouldn’t be able to help laughing and insisting I was doing my best. And it would feel… normal. Comfortable. Safe.

So every time she got excited and turned to put a hand on my arm, or picked me out of the group to tease during our downtime, Sam was there to make my stomach twist again. He’d give me that look like maybe I was blind. Like maybe I was hopeless.

It wasn’t until Indy walked into the kitchen in a tight red dress that I realized how hopeless I truly was.

“Indy!” Kate howled while Yelena wolf whistled.

Sam gave her a round of applause as she did a small spin, her softly curled hair bouncing around her shoulders. Her lips, which I’d had an unwarranted amount of interest in the last few weeks, were the same shade as her dress. The heels she wore gave her a good few inches of height, so if I were standing, the top of her head would probably come up to my mouth. Her dress made her figure a little more obvious; small, soft waist, wide hips, thick thighs.

I couldn’t make my brain work well enough to stand from my seat at the dining table. The newspaper I’d been reading slid through my fingers to the tabletop. I had to practically rip my eyes away from her legs. The skirt gathered high on one side, leaving a long stretch of exposed skin.

Up until then, I’d done a pretty good job of denying anything I might have felt for Indy. But there was no denying it anymore. My feelings for her went beyond professional admiration or friendly esteem. I wanted Indy. My mouth was dry and my hand was already sore from how tightly I had it clenched. I had to forcibly shut out thoughts of those curls wrapped around my metallic knuckles. Or her collar bone. Jesus, I’d seen it a thousand times before, but I’d never been so aware of how perfectly my lips might glide across it.

Sam’s foot jolting my chair made me come crashing back into reality with a start.

Indy turned to look at me. Her warm hazel eyes were ringed with thick, dark lashes tonight. They narrowed as her mouth twisted wryly to one side.

“Alright, I’ve only got five minutes, so get your jokes in while you can.” Her cheeks grew pinker.

“I know better than to talk to a woman who looks like you that way,” Sam said, stepping forward to give her a quick peck on the cheek before joining Kate and Yelena in the living room.

“Nothing from you, Sarge?” she asked, turning back to me.

I stood and crossed my arms as I took a step forward. “You have a date or something?”

That wasn’t what I meant to say at all. I’d meant to tell her she looked incredible. That anyone who cracked jokes while she was wearing that,was not just blind but an idiot as well.

She blinked at me. “Yeah. I met this guy in the city a few days ago. I actually told you about him. Remember? Dennis McKay?”

There was something there in her voice. Something I knew I should be paying more attention to, but I was more preoccupied by the irrational warmth of the room and the horrible sinking feeling trying to take me over.

“Ah,” was all I managed to get out.

“Well, I’ll see you later?” she asked, running her hand through her hair like I wasn’t dying enough inside as it was. “Keep your phone close. You’re the one I’m calling if I need an excuse to bail.”

She threw me one more grin as the elevator doors closed behind her, and then I was falling heavily back into my chair.

Fuck.

Why had I waited until now to acknowledge my growing attraction to her? I guess there were lots of reasons. For one thing, there was the excuse I gave Sam. Looks were deceiving, but I was an old man looking to settle down. She wasn’t even thirty yet. Odds weren’t great that we were on the same page there.

She was also possibly one of the best friends I’d ever had. I didn’t want to mess that up by bringing to her attention the fact that I secretly hung on every word she spoke.

She was a sweet, soft young woman with a good heart and a beautiful face and probably fairly normal issues of her own. I was an ex war criminal who still woke up in the night crying over people I’d killed. Not to mention the century’s worth of enemies I’d made in my time - both directly and indirectly. I couldn’t bring that kind of darkness into her life.

But the thought of her smiling because of anyone else… because of this McKay guy… I wanted to rip a building in half.

I sat up straighter just as Sam came to give me a bracing punch to the shoulder. “You should have taken your chance, Bucky.” His voice was gentle, but reprimanding enough that I rolled my head around to stare leadenly at him.

“Just stop, Sam. Whatever you think is there, it isn’t. Alright? It’s not there for me, and it obviously isn’t for her.”

He gave me an irritated look and sat down in the chair across from me with a sharp sigh. “You can keep telling yourself that out loud, but everything you thought about her was written on your face when she walked in. You’ve still got time. Run down there, catch her before she leaves, and tell her the truth.”

For only a moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like. I’d take the stairs, probably wouldn’t even be winded by the time I made it to the first floor. I’d catch her just before she reached the door, move in closer to her, maybe take her hand and admit to her how broken I was. I’d ask her to stay here with me despite it, to make me feel a little more whole the way she always seemed to.

But goddamn, was that selfish.

“The truth is that she deserves better than anything I have to offer,” I said in a low, controlled voice, standing from my seat once again. “And I’m not chasing after her to tell her something she must already know.”

Sam looked ready to argue some more, but I’d had enough. I stalked back to my room, leaning back against the door I’d shut quietly instead of slamming like I wanted to. I’d probably blast the door backward through the wall. And then I’d have to explain my little tantrum to Kate and Yelena. The thought made me shudder.

I’m not sure how long I just stood there, staring into space like the robot Sam liked to joke that I was. It had been a long time since I’d felt something like this. Something as simple and effectively cutting as longing. I wanted to be angry. Not with her. Maybe not with him. But all I could feel was… resigned. Had I been hoping she’d find someone?

I couldn’t have thought she’d just pal around with me and the others forever. And if I couldn’t give her a future, wouldn’t it make sense she’d go out and find it somewhere else? Right now she was content going on frivolous dates like this one and living and working with her friends. But someday, she would want love and security and all kinds of other things I didn’t think I could provide anymore.

I was a good enough friend that I could be happy for her if this date turned into a second, a fifth, a marriage, a lifetime….

Am I panicking?

These thoughts were ridiculous. It was way too soon to be thinking about all of this, too dramatic to wallow in self-pity the way I did reflexively. People dated much more casually these days than what I was used to. She might see him once or twice more and never again. Besides, she wasn’t mine to feel so possessive over.

I drew in a steady breath and stood straighter.

I hope she has fun with— Wait.

I spun on my heel and flung the door open, racing back down the hall and toward Indy’s office. Apparently I’d been mentally sorting through my issues for a while; everyone was asleep. Despite my previous invasion of her office, she still hadn’t put a lock on the door. She claimed that if anyone managed to breach the compound, this would basically be as interesting as a supply closet; most of the sensitive stuff was kept in other, more secure areas.

I felt no guilt about this whatsoever. I was pretty sure Indy had been trying to tell me something earlier. Something I’d been too wrapped up in my own personal drama to pick up on. It was the last name that I recognized. It was over a week ago, something she’d said in passing about a person of interest. The only reason it stuck out in my mind was that she hadn’t told any of the others. Just me. I had been foolishly pleased with the special treatment. Now I wondered if she had other motivations for keeping that knowledge so exclusive.

I typed in the name of the guy she had mentioned and grew more and more tense as the big picture started to come together.

Dennis McKay was some rich kid who inherited his late father’s $2.2 million Long Island estate, national drugstore chain, and stock in other operations that apparently included suspected Hydra workings. And Indy was all dolled up and on a date with the slime ball. There was every chance he was just a figurehead, unaware of the true nature of the crime he was inadvertently heir to. But I chronically jumped to worst-case scenarios in every situation.

I dragged my phone out and checked my messages. Nothing new. Was she just having a good time with him? The thought was depressing, but not nearly as unsettling as the idea that maybe something had gone wrong. Maybe she wasn’t able to get to her phone.

What if she needs me?

My feet were carrying me toward the elevator before I’d even made the conscious decision to leave.