“You're kidding me.” Bucky looked completely baffled as they watched Steve pull into the warehouse. “What the hell is that?”
“60’s era VW Beetle. Weren't you doing something around that time? Starting wars or something?” Sam teased.
“Korea. And yes I know what it is. What I want to know is what the hell Steve thinks we're gonna do with it.” Steve cranks the wheel, and both men wince as the car squeals in protest. “It's a fucking clown car is what it is,” Bucky muttered as Steve gets out. “What the hell is this, Rogers?”
“60’s Beetle. Weren't you in Korea…”
“Jesus wept…” Sam snorted as Bucky’s expression darkened. “No. What. Is. That.”
“Our ticket out of this dump.” Steve had the gall to look proud of himself. “Inconspicuous.”
“Yeah, when we get towed you can explain how we managed to fit our big asses into this fucking contraption.”
“Hey!” Sam snapped. “I’m not that big!”
Both supersoldiers, topping six feet and two hundred solid, looked at him. “Sorry, man.” Bucky shrugged. “Not everyone can be like us."
Sam clearly took that as a dig because his face turned stormy and he opened his mouth. Bucky shrugged again and opened his. Steve closed his eyes, knowing what was about to happen.
They said “Shotgun” at the same time.
Shit.
“You both can't be shotgun.”
“He's smaller. He gets the back.”
“You are the tagalong. You get into the back.”
“I've got longer legs!”
Sam looked down. “No you don't, you just have a big damn head.”
Bucky smirks. “Ain't the only thing that's big on me.” Steve groaned because Christ he knew…
“Oh. Forgot about your ego.”
“For the love of Pete, just get in the car.” Steve didn't need this right now. They needed to get to Siberia yesterday.
“I called shotgun,” Sam muttered.
“I called it first, I ain't gonna fit in the back.”
They grinned at each other. “Rock paper scissors for it?” Bucky snarled. “Sure,” Sam growled.
“Save me.” Steve dropped his head into his hands.
Bucky glared at Sam. “Seriously, man? You psychic?”
“Just good at this game. I get -”
“Best twelve outta -”
“Hell no.” Steve pushed away from the hood. “Not doing this again. Just get in the damn car or I’m leaving you both behind!” He stomped around to the driver’s door. “You got three seconds.”
Both Bucky and Sam looked on in amusement as Steve took five minutes to start the engine. Bucky snorted when Steve got ever more inventive with his curses and started slapping the wheel, and Sam giggled when Steve crowed in success when the engine finally catches with a puff of smoke from the tailpipe.
“Finally!” Bucky slapped the roof and opened the passenger door. He flipped the seat forward, then stepped back, motioning for Sam to climb in. “Ladies first.”
Sam stood, arms crossed over his chest and shaking his head. “Nuh-uh. Elders first. I’ll even hold the door for you, old man.”
Steve groaned from his seat. “Get. In. The car. Now.”
Bucky rolled his whole head along with his eyes. “Fine. Just because I’m a nice guy and we really need to get that rat bastard.” He ducked his head into the car. “Couldn’t find a Fiat? Or a Geo Metro? Maybe we coulda got a tandem bike or some shit.” He wedged himself through the opening. “Sonofabitch. What the hell, Steve?” He finally toppled into the back seat, feet still outside the car. Sam leaned forward and pushed the seat back into place before he could pull them in. “What the hell! Asshole!”
“Oops, sorry. Thought you were in.” Sam didn’t sound very concerned as he folded himself into the seat. Steve leveled a glare at him.
“Sam.”
“Steve.”
“Try to be nice? He’s my friend.”
Sam shrugged. “Just jazzin’ him.”
“I’ll fuckin’ jazz you,” Bucky grumbled and kicked the back of the seat. “Sorry, just getting situated.” He sounded even less concerned. Sam cocked his head at Steve.
“Jesus - Bucky, stop, okay? We’re in this together.”
“You couldn’t find a bigger -”
“No, I couldn’t!” Steve shoved the gearshift into drive. “No one’s gonna miss this heap, and a good woman told me ‘if you have to run, walk’. Driving around in a vehicle that could really get us there would be too conspicuous.”
“Three huge fuckers in this car.” Bucky leaned back as far as he could. “Yeah. Real great, Steve. Good try.”
“You wanna go find a better car? Be my guest.” Steve drove out the bay doors. “Jerk.”
“Pinhead.”
“Dick.”
“Nancy.”
“Bucky, I swear to god.”
“Pretty boy, don’t test me.” Bucky kicked his seat.
“I will stop this car and punch you in the face.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “I can tell you guys are friends. Yep.”
Steve tried to steer around the pothole, but a delivery truck was riding the line like a goddamn champ. The right side wheels hit the hole, and Sam cursed.
“Steve!” Bucky yelped. “What the fuck? Who taught you how to drive?”
“Your dad. I’m tryin’ here, okay? I think the steering’s shot.”
“My dad couldn’t drive a damn thing, you know that! And you are aiming for the things, aren’t you? You know the suspension’s shit!”
“Ain’t that bad,” Steve muttered.
“Ain’t that - listen to yourself! You’re talking out your foot!” Bucky grunted when they hit another hole. “Sonofa - I’m gonna break my neck back here!”
“Shut up !” Sam reached back and batted at Bucky. “You’re pissing Steve off, and Natasha told me he drives even worse when he gets mad.”
“I don’t drive bad, it’s the roads. The roads suck.”
“The roads are the least of your problems. I’m about ready to pimp slap your long lost buddy back there if he doesn’t quit kicking my seat!” Sam glared at Bucky.
“If you can’t handle a little discomfort, get out and fly there, Air Force. At least us Army boys can rough it.”
“Oh, I can tell how tough you are by how much whining you aren’t doing about being in the back. You know. Roughing it.”
Bucky leaned forward and smacked Sam on the side of the head. Suddenly, there was a little civil war right in the car. Steve rolled his eyes and kept driving. He turned on the radio and tuned it to something disco-esque. Ridiculous, just like the slap fight happening right next to him. He didn’t even get two miles before he nearly sideswiped a minivan ducking from Bucky’s metal arm. “Okay! OKAY! Stop!” He reached back and started hitting anything he could reach. “Stop it, you overgrown children!” Bucky bopped him on the back of the head, and he had enough. “I can’t believe I’m saying this. If you don’t stop it right now, I’m turning back around and dumping both of you at the warehouse. I’ll go to Siberia on my own!” Sam flopped back in his seat, a grin on his face. He looked happy, at least. Steve stole a look in the rearview, and Bucky glowered at him. “I’m only going to ask once. Can we be civil to each other for five minutes?”
“Sure!” The bright tones from both of them worried Steve. He gave them one last glare and focused his attention on the road.
Five minutes went by with no slap fights, no complaining when he hit another pothole, and no digs at each other.
“Hey.” Sam knocked his arm into Steve’s. “Remember the last time we drove together?”
Steve furrowed his brow. “Well, my memory’s getting hazy in my old age, but I think I remember.”
“Yeah. My car, D.C., Nat was with us.” Sam nodded. “Good times, good times. Pretty exciting when that crazy fucker ripped the steering wheel right out of my hands, right? That was nuts!”
Steve gaped at Sam. “What the hell, Sam? What is your problem?”
“It was pretty fun, man.” Bucky looked right into the mirror. “The looks on your faces were priceless. I woulda taken a picture, but I was too busy. Car surfing takes a lot of practice.”
“Bucky!”
Bucky kicked the back of Sam’s seat again. “Move your damned seat forward!”
“Nope! You give me back my steering wheel first. My insurance company wouldn’t cover the damage. Says it was an act of god. You owe me a new car.”
They hit another pothole, and Bucky cursed. “Fuck, I think I just broke my tailbone.”