Calling The Shots
“Bucky?” Y/n calls out, worried. And as expected, gets no response.
He keeps walking.
“Bucky?” She knows he’s pissed, she can tell by the way his shoulders tense as he walks. But he’s not just pissed, he’s hurt.
She never meant for that.
He ignores her as he makes his way to the SUV where Torres is waiting, ready to drive them back to a safehouse they have in the area.
Steve and Y/n had just met them at the rendezvous point, lagging a few minutes behind the rest, after leaving the Gala. The moment she saw Bucky, she already knew she had her work cut out for her. At the first sight of her, he’d turned around to cross the street to make his way over to Torres. She’d chased after him with Malcolm, Steve, and Sam at a safe distance behind them.
“James?” She catches up, heels clicking on the road, reaching for his arm.
And then he stops, in the middle of the road, turning around. “Now I’m James?” His tone was harsh enough to make her flinch away, her arm falling.
“Will you at least let me explain?” She knew she’d regret the kiss with Steve even before she’d done it.
Bucky lets out a laugh. “Not much there to explain, is there?”
“James—”
He cuts her off. “Look, it was nice while it lasted.” He sighs. His demeanor shifts and Y/n knows whatever comes next will wreck her apart. “We both needed a… distraction after everything, and… it was nice while it lasted.”
Oh, ‘wrecked’ doesn’t begin to cover how she feels.
“A distraction?” She asks, trying to stop her voice from breaking. She doesn’t cry in front of people. She hates it. It makes her feel all weak and vulnerable in a bad way. She doesn’t mind crying, but not in front of people; especially ones that are breaking her heart.
“Isn’t that what it was?” He sounds so fucking destroyed as he says it.
She wants to disagree but she can’t bring herself to speak.
He looks away from her then. “Steve’s back now.” He purses his lips. “You don’t need the distraction anymore.”
“Th—the kiss didn’t mean anything. It was just an act. It didn’t mean a damn thing” She’s trying so hard not to break. She’s trying harder not to let them break. “You have to know that.”
He nods, unconvinced. “Maybe.” He pauses before adding, “But he’s a better man. He’s the better choice, Y/n.” He exhales. “And he came back; that’s all that matters right?” He looks at her then.
“Jamie—”
“Don’t.” His tone is sharp. But seeing her flinch he exhales again, letting go of the ferocity in his tone. “He loves you… He made a mistake, but he loves you enough to leave behind his perfect little fantasy and come back. Tha—that means something.”
She wants to scream. She wants to scream till the empty street they are standing on falls to ashes and returns to dust. Because this is ripping her to shreds. She’d barely had the time to have him at all before losing him to something so very fucking stupid. She wants to scream.
“So you should pick him,” he urges her. “He’s better for you.”
And if she could move, she’d shove him and push him and tell him she just wants him. But she can’t.
“It was nice while it lasted,” Bucky says softly, almost to himself. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” And with that he turns around, crossing the road and getting in the SUV.
Sam passes her by, running over to check on him. While Steve stops behind her, his hand darting forward to touch her shoulder.
And the touch fucking burns.
She turns, shrugging it off. Both her hands come up to cover her eyes with the palms; the mask long discarded.
“Are you okay?” Steve asks.
And fuck, if that doesn’t break her apart. “You left.”
His head falls at the accusation. “Y/n—”
“No, you left. You decided to go back because this wasn’t enough; because I wasn’t enough.” Her voice breaks on the last few words, making Steve look up. She’s taken her hands off her face and his eyes go wide the moment he realizes she’s crying.
Because he knows her well enough to know, she really hates crying in front of people. She barely ever cried in front of him, and they were together for two years.
“That’s not true, Y/n. It wasn’t about yo—”
“You know what makes it worse?” She asks, rhetorically, letting out an empty wet chuckle. She points at him. “You decided to come back. Why would you come back, Steve?”
He straightens in his spot. “I already told you why.”
He looks good, she can admit that more so now that he’s gotten rid of the stupid mask. But he looks nothing like her Steve. Because her Steve doesn’t exist anymore.
“Well, that shit makes it so much worse,” she says. “It’s so much worse now, cause whatever it is you left me for wasn’t even really worth it. A whim, Steve. A whim—an impulse made you drop whatever we had.”
He runs a hand through his hair. She can notice the regret and pain in his eyes, but she could be wrong. Her vision is all blurry with the tears burning hot trails down her cheeks.
“I made a mistake,” his admission comes with a crack in his voice too. “I’m sorry.”
“Fuck your sorry Steve!” She shouts. “Fuck you and you stupid apology. Cause you left!” She sniffles. “I died telling you I would always love you and when I came back you told me you had decided that your happy ending was meant to be with Peggy, in the past. Fuck Steve! I’d just lost Tony. And you fucking left.” She wipes away her tears. “And didn’t even have the courtesy to stick to your decision.”
“The five years after the snap were—they weren’t easy. I thought the past would be—”
“I don’t care,” she dismisses him. She would’ve happily run back to the past too if she could. To a past where Tony was still alive, and so was Nat. But she can’t, because she has responsibilities. So, she dismisses him. “It doesn’t matter. You got your happy ending.” She’s seething now. “You got everything you ever wanted. And now that I finally had something. Now that I finally had… someone I—” she cuts herself off. She exhales. “Why did you have to take him too, Steve?” She asks, sounding fucking broken, even to herself. “Why couldn’t you just let me have him?” He looks at her then, mouth agape. “He’s all I wanted. Why did you have to take him too?” Her voice is a soft whisper but she knows he can hear her.
He remains speechless and she’s far too broke for any of this. So she walks past him. He remains stunned in place.
“Y/n?” Malcolm steps out from where he was standing around the corner. His black tux is unbuttoned, his mask gone as well.
“Mal, I can’t—”
“Just tell me what you need,” he urges her gently.
She exhales. “I need to be alone.”
He nods. “I’ll call you whenever we have a lead. Till then I’ll get you a hotel—” she begins to protest because she is very capable of taking care of herself. But he dismisses her with a hand on her arm, “I know you can survive all by your lonesome, but you don’t have to.”
“He’s right,” Sam speaks out from behind them. When she turns, he instantly wraps her in a hug. “Please don’t forget to check-in,” he reminds her gently before letting go.
And then she goes. She stays away, cooped up in a hotel room doing nothing but lying in the bed. She can’t bring herself to cry or scream but she feels exhausted nonetheless. If she were home, she’d have gone to her therapist. But she doesn’t have that luxury right now. So she stays in bed, staring at the ceiling, only texting Sam every couple of hours to let him know that she’s safe.
She’s caught up somewhere between morose and furious. So she chooses the easier on; fury. Because anger wouldn’t make her vulnerable.
She thinks all the pain and heaviness from seeing Steve and being reminded of how she lost Tony is catching up. Of course, it doesn’t help that all she can hear when she closes her eyes is the sound of Bucky calling her a distraction.
So, she stays in bed, covered in rage with a hint of melancholy. Until 3 days later when she gets a call from Malcolm telling her to meet them at the airstrip the next morning.
“Hey,” Torres is the first person to greet her as she boards the ship. She just smiles back.
Sam rushes over next, the moment he spots her. He engulfs her in a tight hug.
“I wasn’t gone that long, Bossman,” she says jovially, hugging him back just as tightly.
“It was long enough,” he tells her as they part.
Bucky and Steve are standing in a corner, keeping their distance while checking on their gear. The tension in the room is palpable. And why wouldn’t it be?
It’s all very soap opera-esque.
“So where are we off to?” She asks, trying to cut through the tension. Only to realize she forgot her chainsaw back home.
“London,” Malcolm replies from behind, boarding the plane. He walks up next to her with a question in his eyes. When she shrugs, he continues, “I got a call from a blocked number telling me that my bid caused quite the frenzy among their people and the Big Man himself would like to meet me.” He walks over to the table, pulling up a hologram.
“They sent over coordinates for the meet-up,” Sam informs her. “It’s an old abandoned factory.”
“That’s not ominous at all,” Y/n comments.
Sam chuckles. “We’ll be landing near the site, in case we need a quick way out.”
“And the jet will help me seem all-important and pompous,” Malcolm adds with a smile.
“Steve and I will be keeping an eye on Brekker,” he points to a particular point on the hologram, “from here on the east side. Torres will be our getaway driver and the eyes and ears.” And then he looks at Y/n when he says, “And you and Bucky will be running recon, keeping an eye out.” He looks back at Bucky. “That gonna be okay?”
“Yep,” she says, popping the ‘p’. But then she looks over at the man in question and he’s looking at her with something in his eyes she can’t really read.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” He throws back without breaking his gaze from hers.
“Honestly, Captain. Why would it be a problem?” Malcolm asks sardonically, making his way over to her. “It’s not like they used to be a thing or anything.”
And Y/n should not break out in a chuckle but fuck her, Malcolm always has a way of turning the mood around without her even realizing. “Shut up, Mal,” she scolds lightly with no heat.
After that, they all pick their corners and settle in for the ride.
Sam, Bucky, and Steve stand off to the side, discussing something in hushed tones. Y/n on the other hand sits in a corner. Her head hangs in her hands while her elbows rest on her knees.
She can sense Malcolm come and sit down opposite her.
“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” He asks in a horrible American accent, making her chortle.
“I’m considering violence,” she answers.
“Can I participate?” He asks without hesitation.
She smiles. “Wouldn’t you at least like to know against whom?”
“I’m going to take a wild guess and say it’s either the tall, blonde and righteous or tall, dark and broody, over there; I’m fine with either one… or both.”
“Good guess,” she admits.
He hums, “Any particular reason?”
“One of them decided to leave me behind,” she states, her hands making their way into her hair, “while the other said we weren’t a thing and called me a distraction.”
“Let’s focus on one at a time, shall we?” His tone remains easy but she can tell he’s worried. “Which one hurt worse?”
She looks up at him then. “What sort of a question is that?”
“A simple one; which one hurt worse?”
She wants to argue but after the last couple of days, she doesn’t have the strength. “Latter.”
“Sergeant Barnes,” he nods in understanding. “Why did it hurt?”
“Why do you think it hurt?” She throws back.
“I’m asking you, aren’t I?” He huffs in exasperation, “Don’t ask my questions back to me. Come on! I’m aiming for some cathartic shit here. Will you at least work with me?”
“Alright, alright. Sorry,” she says with a smile, throwing up her hands in mock defense. She pauses before she adds, “It hurt cause I wanted us to be a thing… and also cause he didn’t choose to tell Steve about us.”
“Why wouldn’t he tell Mr. Rogers about you two?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why didn’t you?”
She looks up at him. “What?”
“Why didn’t you tell him then?” He asks.
She fumbles, opening her mouth a couple of times and closing it shut without uttering a word. She exhales and tries again, “He’d already told Steve there wasn’t anything there so, I just rolled with it.”
“Why?”
Malcolm, for Christ’s sake, stop with your damn questions! They’re giving me a fucking crisis.
“Because,” she reasons, shrugging.
“Because?” He urges her.
And for fuck’s sake will the man ever quit?
“Because I was letting James decide what we were,” she explains.
“Wait,” Malcolm interrupts, looking genuinely confused. “You’re telling me you hadn’t labeled or even discussed what you guys were?” His confusion grows when he sees her reluctantly shake her head. “And you’ve been… warming each other’s beds for what? Six months?” She shrugs in assent and watches his frustration rise. “WHY?”
She runs a hand over her face because she’s tired enough to be honest enough. She exhales. “I wanted to let him call the shots.”
He looks at her, mouth hanging open for a solid 10 seconds before he says, “With all due respect, Y/n; since when the fuck do you let other people call the shots on your behalf?” When she doesn’t reply, only looks away, he adds, “Since when do you stay in arrangements like this without clarifying exactly what you want? That’s not who you are, Y/n. It never has been. So, why in god’s name would you sit around waiting for him to dictate the status of your relationship?”
She sighs heavily, her head falling. “Because I called all the shots with Steve… I made all the first moves. I asked him out the first time, the second, the third. I gave him the keys to my apartment. I suggested we move in together… It was always me. And then he left…” She runs a hand through her hair, looking up. “I didn’t want Bucky to leave.”
“Okay,” Malcolm begins, “Somewhat sound logic. But have you considered this—and it’s probably going to hurt—but, have you considered that maybe, just maybe, Steve just didn’t want you?”
And the words fall over Y/n with such weight, her head falls down again.
Because suddenly it all makes so much sense.
“Y/n?” Malcolm calls out hesitantly, craning his head down to meet hers. When she remains silent, staring at her feet with her eyes wide. “Are yo—are you going to punch me?”
She can’t help the laugh that escapes her lips. “No, no,” she assures him. “Just having an epiphany.” She breathes out. “He didn’t want me,” she recites the words to herself, trying to gauge them better. She understands what she hears. The words make sense with everything she’s felt. “He didn’t want me,” she repeats with more confidence this time.
“And for that, he’ll forever be the biggest idiot,” Malcolm comments, with a smile.
“We’re almost there,” Sam cuts in. “You guys okay?” He asks looking from Malcolm to Y/n.
They both exchange smiles and look back at Sam as Malcolm says, “We’re fantastic, Captain.”
“Let’s get this show on the road,” Y/n states getting up.