The Leash And Her Boytoy
The door opens and the first thing Bucky sees is a tall, bearded man with messy hair, who is… shirtless, with low-hanging sweatpants… with marks all over his body… And he can hear his stomach fall. Sam next to him is completely frozen as well. Until—
“You’re not the pizza,” The man speaks with an accent. British, Bucky ventures, but there’s some other influences, he can’t quite recount.
“And you’re sure as shit not Y/n,” Sam counters.
A smile breaks onto the man’s face.
He turns away from both men and faces off to his right, behind the door. “Darling,” he calls out, voice laced with pure seduction, “I think this might be for you.” He turns back to them, smile still in place, looking somewhat malicious.
There are footsteps followed by a confused voice, “What do you mean it’s f—”
Bucky’s eyes fall right on her. Y/n Stark, standing there in front of him… in a random man’s shirt… this random man’s shirt and black lacy underwear. Well, consider Bucky un—fucking—comfortable.
“—fuck” she finishes.
There’s a long painfully discomforting pause, where everyone stares at each other and then—
“You’re going to do some Avengers shit,” The man states, excited. He’s the only one who’s been smiling since the whole thing started, while the other three were trying to get their jaws off the floor.
Y/n exhales heavily then, turning back to the man on her right, looking up she replies, “No, I am not going to do any Avengers shit, seeing as whatever they’re here for,” she turns back to Bucky and Sam, “the answer’s no.”
“You haven’t even heard us out yet,” Sam objects.
Y/n opens her mouth but is immediately cut off, “You haven’t even heard them out yet!” The man interjects.
She turns back to him, and Bucky can see her eyes are nothing but fury. He speaks from experience when he says that he would never want to be on the receiving end of that glare. Last time he was, she dropped a building on him. Which, Bucky thinks, was quite fair seeing as she had just found out he was responsible for the assassination of her former best friend, Howard Stark, and was in that moment tag-teaming her current best friend, Tony Stark, with her then-boyfriend, Steve Rogers. Yeah, pretty damn fair.
“I don’t need to,” She replies, determined. “I am not—”
“Come on, darling! They worked quite hard to track you down all the way here. The least you could do is hear them out.” He cuts her off again, and Bucky has to give this man props because wow, he’s got some balls, “Look, I’ll go run up and get your…” his eyes roam over her body before he continues, “jacket. Meanwhile, you can hear what they have to say.”
She glares at him, and yet the man doesn’t even flinch. Which, again, balls.
Realizing he isn’t going to give up, she sighs, “Fine.”
“Good girl,” the man coos.
Bucky stuns at the words, while Sam lets out an ungodly squeak. Y/n however, remains absolutely calm, seeming quite used to the man’s antics.
She turns around, making her way over to the navy-blue couch that sits in the middle of the spacious room facing giant ceiling-high black bookshelves, and sits down on the armrest. He and Sam walk in behind her, while the man begins making his way over to the round staircase in the corner of the room, next to the floor-to-ceiling length window and the kitchen.
“Please don’t pretend to forget my pants. Just ‘cause I’m fond of your balls, doesn’t mean I won’t kick 'em,” she calls out.
“Of course, darling.” Bucky can hear the smile in his voice, as he makes his way up the stairs.
“So, what do you want?” she asks.
Sam steps forward from where he was leaning next to the shelves. He looks over at Bucky who’s standing on the opposite side of the room, leaning on the kitchen island.
When Bucky nods, Sam begins, “There’s an organization, insurgent group… They’re pissed at the government for going back to functioning the way they were before the blip. They preferred the way it was before; a world without borders. But they’re going about it all wrong, hurting people in the process that have no business being involved. They function online mostly; they’re calling themselves the—”
“Flag smashers.” Y/n finishes.
“You know?” Sam perks up.
“Yeah,” Y/n shrugs.
“Well, then help us take them down. Their leader—” Sam’s cut off again.
“—Karli Morgenthau, she’s just a kid.” She adds.
“So, you know why we have to step in. We can talk to her… explain—” Sam’s cut off again.
“No.” She replies with finality that kinda throws Bucky off.
Sam apparently feels the same, “N—No?” he asks.
She nods, “No.”
“No, we can’t stop her? Or no, you won’t help?” Sam asks.
“Yes.” She answers.
“What?” Sam balks.
She just shrugs again.
Sam exhales heavily, “This is serious shit, Y/n. We have to help, we have to step in before this becomes something bigger. Before she does something that she can’t take back… People are getting hurt, Y/n.” His voice is higher by the end.
And she notices too, her voice matches his as she gets off the couch and steps up to him and replies, “People are always getting hurt, Sam. There’s always some more serious shit! That’s the damn job, it never ends.”
“So what, you just won’t help?” Sam asks, confounded. Bucky knows he’s shocked at the refusal. He can hear it in the strain of his voice.
“Nope,” She replies, popping the ‘p’ at the end. “Seeing as I’m retired and oh, you know? In hiding. Which, by the way, who told you where I was? And why was it Maria Hill?” She asks arms flailing.
Sam falters, only for a second. Recovering quickly, he says, “So you’ll just give up? Come on, Y/n. This… It’s our second chance…”
Y/n smiles then, an awful, painfully broken thing and Bucky doesn’t quite know why but he can hear his own heart crack. He wants to fight whoever put that expression on her face. But then she says, “That’s exactly what Steve said to Tony to drag him back into this life.” And he knows he can’t even begin to fight that battle. She continues, the smile leaving her lips, eyes watering, “And you know what that got him? It got him dead.” She pauses, “And what did it get me? It got me the world’s most adorable 3-year-old niece who can’t really comprehend what that means.”
If Bucky’s heart was cracking before, it’s fucking broken now.
“I’m sorry,” She concedes. Her head falls, and though Bucky hasn’t known her very long, he doesn’t think it’s normal. Fuck it’s unsettling, seeing her this… shattered. He doesn’t know why, but it hurts. “He gave up his life for ours, f—for mine… The least I c—can do is live it.” She looks up and levels Sam with a determined stare, “I owe him that.”
Bucky can see Sam process this, can see him break for her as well. Silence falls over the room. Thick, palpable, so much so he feels like he can taste it. Bucky wishes he could say something, but he hasn’t been good with words in—well fuck, in over seventy years.
But the silence is broken.
“There you go, darling.” The man prods back with her clothes and shoes in one hand, and her watch and glasses in the other. He drops the shoes in front of her, and extends his arm.
She graciously takes the pants from him, putting them on, right there in front of all three of them and two of them look away; you guessed it, it’s Bucky and Sam. But she doesn’t seem concerned as the third watches on as she says, “Look, if you need help, or resources, I’ve got contacts I can reach out to, people who could meet you on the field,” she zips up her light wash blue jeans, and takes the watch from the man’s other hand, before continuing, “But that’s the best I’ve got.” She locks the watch in place over her left hand. She reaches over for her glasses, shining golden, and puts them on as well, and finally accepts the leather jacket.
She puts on the jacket in one swift motion, and Bucky has to tell himself that he does not find it hot. She fixes her hair in small swift motions and then she looks over at him, and his breath catches. If he weren’t leaning over the kitchen island, he would be a little weak in the knees, because her eyes are striking, filled with emotion he isn’t sure he can read. He’s not sure if he’s meant to.
“I’m sorry,” she says softly, still looking at him. Before he can process that, she looks back at Sam, “I really am.”
Sam remains speechless.
She then turns over to the man, who walks over to the couch she was previously on, and falls onto it dramatically. Kicking up his legs, resting them on the glass coffee table in front of him, while looking back at her. He’s wearing a painfully smug smile on his face and Bucky isn’t sure why but he hates it.
“Thank you.” She says softly.
“Anything for you.” He dismisses easily.
“I got the coffee started if you want,” She offers.
“An angel,” He replies.
She settles herself back on the armrest, putting on her black converse, she adds, “And I’m keeping the shirt.”
“Of course, darling,” he coos. And the softness of it… well, Bucky would even think the interaction means more than whatever it seems on the surface, but then, “Looks better on you anyway,” the man adds with a wink.
She gets to her feet, having put on her shoes. Hands rubbing down her face in frustration, “Ass kisser,” she chides.
“You’ll miss it,” he says, taking her other hand into his and dropping a small kiss on the back. Something in Bucky makes him look away.
“No, I won’t,” she reprimands.
He lets go of her hand, as she turns giving a look to Sam, indicating that their time is up. Bucky begins to follow them as well.
“Come on, darling. You’re breaking my heart. After last night's… events,” his smile more charming now, than smug, “least you could do, is pretend you’d miss me.”
She turns opens the door, letting both Bucky and Sam pass her before turning back, “Oh, I’ll miss you… just not in the way you want.” She smirks.
He matches her smirk right back, “I’ll take whatever I can get.”
She lets out a laugh, “I’ll see you next week.”
She closes the door before she can hear him respond, in a knowing tone, “No. No, you won’t, darling.” But Bucky can… and man, ain’t super hearing a bitch?
She pushes the elevator button and it opens right up. She walks in and stands right in the middle.
Both Bucky and Sam look at each other at a loss for what to do. It’s awkward for a second and then—
“Come on!” She urges, “You waiting for an invite?”
Both men shuffle in, settling on either side of her.
She presses the button and the elevator begins descending.
Bucky’s mouth is using words before his brain can comprehend, “You cut your hair…”
She looks at him, and he thinks he’s going to choke.
“Needed a change,” she shrugs. Turning her gaze back to the front.
Urged on by the lack of murder in her gaze and knowing exactly how that feels, he adds, “It suits you.”
She doesn’t look back at him this time as she says, “I’d say the same about you, but you have a habit of looking devilishly handsome, most of the time.”
Bucky thinks he might be having a heart attack. Or maybe it’s just his heart trying to crawl its way out of his chest, finally, tired of the overuse over decades and decades.
“So… boyfriend?” Sam asks, saving Bucky. But is he really? This feels more like, what did they call it? 'Out of the pot, into the grill’ or whatever kinda situation.
“Don’t have one,” She replies curtly. That makes Bucky breathe a little easier, but if he ignores it, it never happened.
“He seemed interested… so why not?” Sam asks.
“Cause it’s none of your business,” She retorts.
He lets out an exasperated breath, “I’m just trying to ask you about your life, something normal. You know, like friends do?” Sam pauses, with a tinge of anticipation he adds, “We still are friends… right?”
She exhales heavily, letting the tension fall from your shoulders, finally relaxing. “He wants to be, but I’m not interested.”
“Why not?” Again, Bucky’s mouth needs to get its shit together ‘cause he didn’t mean to say that. But… now that he has, he’d love to know.
She doesn’t look at either of them, instead, her eyes flint up to the top of the door, staring at the number ticking by on the sign, they’re unfocused, lost. Her voice is a soft whisper when she says, “Everyone I loved is either dead or gone…” The door dings open as she pauses. And the light of the sun seeping in from the open doors seems to bring her back as she turns back at Bucky while stepping out and says, “So, abandonment issues, I guess.” Her voice sounds jovial, a sharp contrast to the whisper before.
Both men follow her out as they make their way into the parking lot.
“Y/n,” Sam tries.
She turns around but her eyes, Bucky notices, are looking around, over their shoulder, almost… casing the joint. “I can’t, Sam. I really can’t. I am so, very sorry.” She sounds desperate and very genuine.
Bucky would believe her that this is what she wants, to walk away… if she wasn’t looking over Bucky’s shoulder like someone was about to jump out.
She turns around and begins to walk away.
“We broke Zemo out,” Bucky calls out and is met with whispered yelling from Sam as to why would you tell her that? “Cause she already knew,” Bucky answers softly, with a painfully small knowing smile as he watches you turn and meet his gaze head-on, “Didn’t you?” He challenges.
And her lack of response is answer enough.
“And you two bright gentlemen left him in the car? Did you even lock it, or did you leave the keys in the ignition?” She chides.
“We locked it. We’re not idiots, you know?” Sam argues.
She rolls her eyes in response. “Yes, because all smart people leave a criminal mastermind alone with a car, after breaking them out from high-security prisons!”
“Will you keep your voice down, for Christ’s sake?” Sam whisper yells again, looking around for cameras, and realizes there aren’t any. He looks back at her, his eyes narrow.
She shrugs, “In hiding, remember?” Is her only answer, and then, “On that note, I’ll get going.”
Before she can make a move to walk away, “All you’ll have to do is make sure I don’t lose it and kill him. That’ll be your only job. We need you to come along and keep an eye on me…” Bucky proposes. He adds, voice softer, “just… help, me.”
He watches her close her eyes. Her head falls back and the last thing he hears is a soft for fuck’s sake, escape your lips, and then she’s walking over to them, passing them by.
“Wait, where going?” Sam asks, following her, Bucky in tow.
“To your damn car to see if our mastermind escaped, Sam. Where else?” She retorts.
“Wait! Our mastermind? Means you’ll help us out?” Sam asks, a smile already forming on his face.
“I’ll keep an eye on grumpy over there. That’s all I’ll do,” She answers, nodding at Bucky. “And the criminal mastermind, cause you both clearly suck at it.”
“I’ll have to agree with the lovely lady,” a voice cuts in, and Bucky’s gun is out and pointing at the man within the second.
Zemo however, doesn’t seem bothered by it, he just looks at Y/n and smiles.
“It’s been a while since we last met, Y/F/N,” Zemo says with a smile.
She brings her hands over Bucky’s, urging him to lower his gun. He does. “Not long enough, Helmut,” and the sheer resentment in the way she spits out his name, even Zemo falters.
She turns to Sam, significantly satisfied with her blow, back to her usual snarky self, all resentment vanishing, “No idiots here, are there?”
“Don’t be so smug about it. He’s still here, isn’t he?” Sam chides, making his way over to the SUV, opening the door and getting in. “Grumpy’s the one that broke him out, why am I getting flack about it?” He grumbles almost to himself.
Zemo follows him and takes the seat behind Sam’s driver seat.
Bucky and Y/n walk over to the other side. He urges her to take the passenger seat, opening the door for her. But then she looks at him, her eyes brimming with… he wants to say a softness but he isn’t entirely sure because there is also a shit tonne of determination. She nods her head, urging him to do take the seat instead. He looks back at her but relents. Because he knows he isn’t winning this one.
So, he settles in the passenger seat and she sits behind him, next to Zemo and it should not make his skin crawl as badly as it does. She’s more than capable of beating his ass six ways to Sunday, he is not even remotely worried about that. But he’d rather she didn’t have to sit next to a constant reminder of what she’s lost. But then again, he is one himself…
“So where to?” She asks.
Everyone looks over to Zemo, who just smiles, and after a pause, “Madripoor.”
“Mothefucker!” Y/n cries out.