New York
The fighting wasn’t too bad, Bucky discovered. Well, fighting was always awful. There was quite literally nothing worse than being in an active warzone. The scramble between life and death; fighting back against enemy combatants for your very right to live. Awful stuff.
But it was familiar.
Sure, it was Aliens pouring from the sky and stalking the streets, not human soldiers. But what difference was there really between an alien and a Nazi when they both went down just the same with a bullet between their eyes?
Bucky stuck close beside Steve and they fell into a very familiar pattern. The shield sung through the air as they passed it back and forth. The over-sized frisbee spent nearly as much time in Bucky’s hands as it did Steve’s. But that was normal too. So was the way Bucky threw his Ka-bar knife to smack, handle first, into Steve’s waiting hand seconds before the other man needed it to down a particularly obnoxious alien. There was no hesitation or fear. Steve had known he needed the knife in the same way he’d known Bucky would give it to him; even if they were separated by several feet. It wasn’t even hard to catch the returned knife; Bucky using the momentum of the catch to drive the knife into another alien’s eye before bringing his foot up and kicking the alien off the blade.
In his hands, his gun was a blur. Bullets sang happily through the air before finding homes in alien flesh with the precision of someone long used to shooting. One bullet, one kill.
Sweat soaked through his shirt, slicked the tac vest and made it all stick to his back unpleasantly. His normally perfectly coiffed hair fell in disarray, though that fact was secondary to the chunk of alien goo that plastered the left side against his scalp. Bucky’s breathing might be coming fast from the exertion, but his hands didn’t shake when he lined up a shot.
It was all good.
Until he caught a blast of one of the alien’s blasters to his left shoulder. The tac vest wasn’t enough to completely stop the blast from coming through and searing a hole in his shoulder. Though the heat of it neatly cauterised the wound and stopped the worst of the bleeding, the shot still sent Bucky slamming back against an abandoned taxi – the metal denting under his back.
The alien was lining up a second shot when a shield of red and blue took its head from its shoulders.
Bucky let his head slump back. He closed his eyes for a short second before opening them to the sight of Steve hovering over him.
“You okay?” Steve asked, hand outstretched.
Bucky took the offered hand and let Steve tug him up to his feet. His shoulder ached like a bitch, and around the wound his white shirt was being soaked in a mostly gentle stream of blood.
“‘m good. Took a hit to the shoulder but s’not too bad.” He caught sight of Steve’s arched brow and rolled his eyes hard. “I’m fine, Cap. It’ll hold.”
“If you wanna tap out-,”
“What? You gettin’ tired already, Stevie?”
“Careful, Barnes.” Steve mock growled. His eyes lingered a second longer on Bucky’s shoulder before turning back to the work at hand. “On my six, Sergeant.”
“Always.” Bucky agreed. He scooped low and retrieved his fallen Colt from the floor.
He stayed close to Steve after that as they cut a swath through the alien forces. They separated briefly while Steve went to help some civilians trapped in a bank, while Bucky ran to help some struggling NYPD officers push back a half dozen aliens. It was business as usual.
He shot clean through an alien that was bearing down on a fallen officer, reaching the overwhelmed man just in time to offer him a hand up.
“Thank you,” The man gasped, shaking hands reaching down to grab his lost gun.
“Think nothin’ of it, officer.” Bucky drawled, full charm in his smile even as he blasted another alien back from the line they were struggling to hold.
“Alright you lot,” Bucky turned to the first officer on his right, a grim-faced woman with dirt covering nearly all of her exposed skin, “Take out everything on the left side of the street. With extreme prejudice.” He barked the order in his best Sergeant voice. Not a single one of them questioned him despite him being years, and nearly decades, younger than some of them. He focused his efforts on clearing the right side.
When Steve came flying out of the bank on the blast of an explosion to land hard and heavy on a different taxi, Bucky wasted no time in picking off the few aliens hovering anywhere near him. He led the NYPD officers to the area and let them clear the civilians while he went and dragged Steve’s stupid ass up.
“Way to stick the landing, Cap.” Bucky congratulated even as he looked his friend over. Steve had managed to lose his cowl at some point in his last scuffle. Bucky used its loss to his advantage and grabbed Steve’s chin to examine a nasty cut along the side of his head. “Tell me, is it normal to stop the rest of your body with your face?” It would need stitches, but there was little they could do now. At least Bucky could be appeased that it wasn’t life threatening.
And while there was a haze to his eyes, there was no real concern of a severe concussion with the way Steve was glaring at him.
“You’re not as funny as you think you are.” Steve told him blandly.
Bucky patted his cheek condescendingly before taking a step back. “You’re just sore because I’ve killed more aliens than you.”
“You have not!”
“103.”
“You’ve been keeping count?”
Bucky gave him a disbelieving eyebrow, “You haven’t?”
“Fine.” Steve looked down-right sullen for a second before scornfully admitting, “97.”
“Ha.”
“Day ain’t over yet, Sergeant.”
“You guys know we can hear you, right? Comms are wide open.” The sudden intrusion of Tony Stark’s voice from their communicators was less than welcome even if the billionaire sounded mostly amused by their exchange.
“We’re heading back to the bridge.” Steve’s voice was one-hundred percent Captain America. The teasing tone he’d shared with Bucky seconds before was nowhere to be heard in the even timbre of his command. The very sound of it made Bucky straighten up. Without any further conversation, they began jogging back toward the bridge, taking out any aliens they saw along the way. “Widow, update on closing that portal?” Steve demanded.
Bucky listened to the exchange between Widow and Hawkeye with some interest but inevitably lost the train of the exchange when he got busy increasing his winning streak. If the way Steve was currently fighting was any indication, the other man meant to take the lead for his own – and quick.
Despite the numbers they were putting down, more and more of the aliens swarmed them on the streets.
They were met by Thor who used his fantastic hammer to great effect. The god of thunder stuck around, fighting alongside them with a grim face that twisted into a grin every time he caught one of their eyes.
Bucky quickly ran out of bullets for his Colt and, taking inspiration from Thor, used it as a blunt instrument to bludgeon the next alien to get near. It rewarded him with a liberal splash of sickly blue blood across his chest and on the underside of his chin. Disgusted, he tossed his weapon aside and pulled out one of his handguns.
They pushed on but it was becoming increasingly clear that, with the portal open, this would not be a fight they could win. Not with just the seven of them.
Bucky’s attention was yanked behind him when Steve went down hard with a blaster to the stomach. Bucky was moving before he’d given it all that much thought. He stomped on the side of the shield, flipping the metal up into his hands, taking up position in front of Steve and catching the next blast on the metal – no doubt ruining the lovely paint job. The second there was a break in the firing, he ducked out and emptied the last half of his clip in the alien’s face.
Thor stepped in, swinging his hammer with enough force to send a car careening into the aliens standing behind the one who shot Steve.
Bucky decided to leave him to it, turning to help Steve up. He was in the process of extending his hand when movement at his right had him whipping the shield around. Instead of one of the blaster shots, the alien threw a bundle at him. It looked like nothing he recognised but the increasingly quickening beeps it gave was hint enough for him to know what it was.
Explosive.
There wasn’t enough time to kick it and get it clear. With that grim acknowledgment, Bucky threw the shield over the top of it and then flattened his own body on top of that. He braced.
Bucky actually managed to catch air as the force of the explosion tossed him off. He was in free fall right up until his ribs met the burning remains of yet another fine New York taxi. There wasn’t enough co-ordination left in his limbs to roll with the hit. Instead he bounced off the taxi to land, boneless, against the concrete.
For a long minute he lay there, panting through the pain of what he knew were at the very least cracked ribs. It felt like there might even be a jagged laceration against his side where a piece of metal sticking out of the damaged taxi had jabbed him. Worse still – he’d bit his tongue when he’d impacted, and it stung like a papercut doused in lemon juice.
When a hand appeared in his vision, Bucky wasted no time to take it and let the owner pull him to his feet. He groaned low, spat a mouthful of blood to the floor, hand pressing his side as he turned with a witty quip about him getting injured while Steve was lazing about, only to pause when he realised it was Thor who’d pulled him from the ground. The blond’s face was crinkled in concern even as he offered an encouraging smile.
“You have my thanks. That explosion surely would have injured us all gravely but for your quick thinking.” Thor said sincerely.
“All in a day’s work, pal.” Bucky gave a grin he knew was bloody. He clapped a hand on Thor’s shoulder as he moved to stand back side by side with Steve. “You alright, Stevie?” Bucky asked, pulling his last remaining handgun into the hand not putting pressure on his side.
“I’ll walk it off.” Steve grunted, throwing the shield with a touch more vehemence.
It wasn’t a yes, but Bucky hadn’t really been expecting one. They’d both need medical and some R&R after this. Instead of commenting, Bucky took three quick shots and downed three aliens. “That’s 165 for me.” He said, grinning.
“You slowing down?” Steve asked. His hand was a blur as he threw his shield and neatly decapitated two aliens with one toss. “That’s 166 for me, Barnes.”
Bucky tossed him a weak glare, a faint echo of true ire more than anything else. “Enjoy the lead while you can. You won’t keep it for long.”
“Promises. Promises.” Steve hummed. He tossed the shield to Bucky just in time for the Sergeant to bring it up against a barrage of blasts coming from his right.
And then, like the voice of a real-life angel, Widow came over the comms with the announcement of; “I can shut the portal down. Does anyone copy? I can close it!”
Steve, the fool, turned away with his hand to his comm and an order for her to; “Do it. Do it now”.
Bucky slipped to the side and took up position blocking Steve from the aliens that were still firing on them – but sure Steve you just stand there and make a damn call.
At least Bucky could count on Thor to help. The god tore through the ranks with his hammer while Bucky emptied his last clip into the aliens around them. He was officially out of ammunition. All he had left were knives.
Steve was still on the comms. Bucky would have tuned into what was being said in rapt fire retorts between Steve, Stark, and Widow with more than just a weathered ear, but he was much to busy trying to keep him and Steve from becoming the wrong kind of holy.
He pulled a knife into his hand and was more than happy to use it on any alien that got too close, despite the godawful way it pulled on his injured side. Using the shield would be a kinder method but it would also take away his only line of defence in protecting Steve. Bucky grunted and got to work with his knife.
He did look up when Iron Man went screaming past, a missile on his shoulders and his trajectory set for the portal.
“What’s he-?” Bucky didn’t have time to finish before red and gold armour disappeared. He watched, mouth gaping open and chest heaving, for the suit to reappear. A bright light lit up in the portal, growing slowly closer.
All around them the aliens screamed as if in agony before dropping to the floor in death throes. Not a single one of them made another attempt to get back up.
Bucky looked around before turning his gaze back to the portal, still waiting for the armour.
“Close it.” Steve gave the order firmly; but his shoulders were heavy, and his face spoke of regret. Bucky could do nothing more than reach out and put a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder before returning his gaze back to the portal.
Whatever Widow did, it was quickly done.
The portal began collapsing in on itself. Getting smaller and smaller.
Bucky looked away.
“Son of a gun,” Steve muttered quietly. It was the relieved amazement in the others voice that had Bucky whipping his head around to catch sight of the armour falling. Iron Man was falling boneless with limbs whipping in the air, but he was back.
The Hulk, mostly silent during the fight besides the sound of him wrecking, caught him mid-air before even Thor could get off the ground.
And then it was a mad sprint through a city block of carnage, ducking low and jumping high over debris. All injuries were forgotten for the time being as they rushed to their team-mate’s side.
Thor arrived first but only because he cheated by flying. Steve and Bucky both skid to a gravel disturbing stop just in time to see Thor rip the face plate off of the suit.
Bucky winced in sympathy for Steve’s knees when the Captain dropped with a thud to kneel beside Iron Man. The Captain pressed his ear up to Stark’s face, checking for breath. When Steve sat back, trembling hand touching the no longer lit light in the Iron Man armour, Bucky felt the euphoria of before shatter.
Stark was back but he was still gone.
The Hulk roaring made more than Stark jump. Bucky’s hand went back to pressing tightly against his once again throbbing ribs even as he grinned at the breathless enquires of a very much alive Tony Stark.