Smooth Criminal
It had been a quiet night for Officer James Buchanan Barnes and his partner. So far, they had to deal with a fight between two drunk men, an exhibitionist and a few reckless drivers.
Bucky had started his shift at 10 p.m. the previous night and it was now just after 4 a.m. He kept repeating ‘only two more hours’ like a mantra and tried to imagine you all wrapped up and sound asleep in your bed. He really wanted to be with you.
Peter Parker shifted slightly in his seat, his butt numb from sitting in the patrol car. He was a young man, fresh out of the academy, and dreamed of high-speed car chases. The reality, though, didn’t live up to his expectations.
“Numb butt?” Bucky glanced at his partner, a smug smile on his lips. “Bet they don’t teach you that at the academy, uh, Parker?”
“No,” Peter groaned, trying to find a more comfortable position. “They don’t tell you that all you do is wait in the car and drive around town.”
“That’s not all we do. Tonight’s just really quiet.”
There was something very therapeutic about driving around the deserted city. It was like being transported onto the set of a disaster movie where the hero roams the street alone. Bucky drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel, waiting for the light to turn green.
“Y’don’t have to wear your hat in the car, y’know,” Bucky said after he threw another glance at his partner.
Peter removed the hat and ran a hand through his hair. He chuckled to himself somewhat embarrassed, his cheeks turned a little pink. They both froze when the car radio crackled to life. Bucky didn’t notice that the light had turned green, he was too focused on the dispatcher’s calm voice.
“Units in the 107, 10-50, 166 Montague Street.”
Bucky scoffed to himself as Peter reached for his radio. A noise complaint? This was a very strange night. He turned left toward Montague Street while Peter took the radio out of its holder and spoke.
“1-0-7 Charlie, we’re on our way.”
Since a noise complaint wasn’t an urgent case, they decided not to use the siren. A minute later, the dispatcher called them again.
“1-0-7 Charlie, we have a possible burglary in progress at 166 Montague Street. Caller mentioned three women, descriptions unknown. One may be Russian.”
“Is that the same person who called about a noise complaint?” Peter asked, sharing a look with Bucky.
“Affirmative.”
“1-0-7 Charlie, en route,” Peter said, then turned to Bucky. “Montague Street, isn’t it like two blocks away from your apartment?”
Bucky nodded, his eyes focused on the road. He was always anxious when he had to work in his neighbourhood. He had seen a lot of disturbing things in his career, he knew only too well how cruel people could be. Now the thought of you, innocently asleep in bed, wasn’t as comforting as it used to be. He knew the fear was irrational, but he couldn’t help it.
He pulled up in front of the six-story building and called in their location. As he climbed out of the patrol car, he checked his phone to make sure he hadn’t missed a call or a message from you. Nothing.
As they stepped into the lobby, they could hear women laughing and singing. It was fairly obvious that these women were intoxicated. The voices led them to the third floor. They saw two women sitting on the floor, singing at the top of their voices.
Bucky’s eyes widened as he recognized one of the two women. “Y/n?!”
At the mention of your name, you looked up, eyes searching for the man who called your name. When you saw Bucky, a big smile spread across your face and you excitedly shook Helen Cho’s shoulder.
“I sleep with that cop!”
Helen gave you an impressed nod, then continued singing. A laugh bubbled up Peter’s throat before he looked over his shoulder at Bucky.
“It’s nice to finally meet your girlfriend, man.”
Bucky mumbled a curse under his breath. “Can you take care of the angry neighbour?”
Peter walked over to the neighbour who had open her door and glared at you and Helen. He tried to appease her while she gestured towards you. With a dramatic sigh, Bucky squatted down in front of you, his black trousers pulling tautly over his strong thighs.
“Hey, beautiful.” His brows furrowed when you giggled.
Bucky had seen you drunk before and he knew you well enough to know that on a drunkenness scale of one to ten, you had reached a nine. He also knew that the happy drunk phase wouldn’t last long.
“Where’s your friend?” he asked softly, remembering that the dispatcher mentioned three women.
“Natasha’s puking,” Helen replied with a grin. “That’s such a funny word… puking, piiouuking, pi-ou-king,” she articulated, pursing her lips to pronounce the word.
Bucky watched her for a minute, completely stunned. He had met Helen Cho once before at your company’s Christmas party, she was one of your colleagues and a brilliant geneticist. He remembered her as a shy girl, but right now she was repeating the word ‘puking’ like a broken record.
“Okay, ladies, let’s get you back home,” he said once he broke out of his trance.
Bucky tried to help you up, but then the neighbour shouted at his partner and he decided to try to defuse the situation before it got worse. He told you and Helen to stay quiet to which you both put a finger to your lips and made loud shushing sounds.
“Ma’am,” Bucky greeted the neighbour politely. “The incident is under control, you can go back inside. Sorry for the disturbance.”
“Oh, no! It’s four in the fucking morning and I have to get up in two hours. I’m pressing charges.”
“You can do that,” Bucky nodded, knowing exactly what she wanted to hear. The woman uncrossed her arms, her posture becoming a little more relaxed. “I can issue a ticket, but as the plaintiff in this case, your name will be in the report and you will have to testify in court, which means that you will most likely have to take a day off. Sounds like a lot of trouble for a sleepless night.”
The woman grumbled, considering her choices. “Fine, but if I see them again-”
“You won’t, we’ll make sure of that,” Bucky promised.
The woman closed the door in their faces. Bucky looked at Peter and they sighed in unison. Ten minutes later, you finally walked through the exit door, holding Bucky tightly. You wore your work clothes which consisted of a white blouse and a pair of dark blue slacks. When a shiver ran through you, Bucky held you tighter, rubbing your arm to keep you warm.
The two officers found Natasha sitting on the curb, her head between her legs. Bucky asked Peter to drop Natasha and Helen at their apartments.
“You owe me, Barnes,” Peter sighed at the sight of the drunk girls sitting in the patrol car.
“I know, man,” Bucky cringed, holding you as you waved enthusiastically at your friends. “Breakfast is on me. Pick me up at my apartment when you’re done.”
Bucky waited until the patrol car was gone to kiss your cheek and, judging from the way you slumped against him, he knew that the alcohol was wearing off. He held you up and looked at you, a small smile spread across his face. You looked like a hot mess; mascara smudged around your eyes, breath smelling like vodka and hair sticking out in all directions. When he tried to tame your hair, you leaned into his touch and practically purred.
“Let’s go home, doll,” he chuckled.
“I’m too tired to walk,” you whined, stomping your foot.
Rolling his eyes, Bucky turned around and hunched down. “Hop on my back.”
“Seriously?” You beamed when he nodded. “Isn’t it against the law or something?”
“Yes, it’s actually a violation of article 26 of the ‘How to be a Proper Cop in New York’Convention,” he said, in a somewhat sarcastic tone that you failed to notice. “But I won’t tell if ya don’t.”
“Your secret’s safe with me, you dirty cop.”
You held onto his shoulders and let him pick you up under your thighs, hoisting you onto his back. Instinctively, you sought his warmth and rested your chin on his shoulder. You couldn’t remember the last time anyone had given you a piggyback ride, but it felt nice.
Trying to distract yourself, you took his hat and saw something in the little plastic pocket inside the hat. There was a copy of the Policeman’s Prayer, but also something that made your heart leap in your chest.
“You have a picture of me in your hat?” you awed out loud.
“Of course, doll,” he replied, his thumbs rubbing your thighs. “You’re the most precious thing in my life.”
Bucky chuckled when you clutched him tighter and peppered his neck with kisses. After ten minutes of walking through the –almost- deserted streets with you on his back, he could tell that you had fallen asleep. He caught sight of his reflection in the glass façade of a building and laughed. In all fairness, it looked pretty ridiculous; a hatless cop carrying a sleepy civilian on his back.
Once he reached your apartment building, he had to find your keys in your purse, all the while making sure you wouldn’t slid off his back. It was a little tricky and he suddenly felt like a turtle carrying its house on its back.
It took him another ten minutes to open the front door, remove your shoes and slacks, and put you under the covers. Bucky placed a glass of water and some aspirin on your bedside table before he sat on the mattress and dropped a kiss to your forehead.
“Don’t go,” you said when he pulled back.
“My shift isn’t over yet, sweetheart,” he protested. “Why were you out so late? I thoughtcha were at home, sleepin’ like an angel, and not screamin’ songs at people we never met.”
You whined softly, your eyelids drooped, fighting sleep. “I knew you were not home so me and the girls hit a bar or two-”
“Or seven,” Bucky chuckled when you gave him a dirty look.
“It’s better than being at home alone. I worry so much when you work all night. I can’t help but think that something terrible is gonna happen.”
His heart sank.
Being a cop wasn’t always easy, but he had always been honest with you. Although sometimes he preferred to spare you the gruesome details. You, on the other hand, always tried to put on a brave face and support him and his job, when, inside you were just terrified.
“Everythin’s gonna be alright,” he soothed gently, cupping your face in his large hands. “You know why?”
“Why?” you sniffed.
“Because I love you.”
You let out a huff of laughter, wiping the back of your hand under your nose. Bucky’s smile lit up the whole room and you felt so grateful to have him in your life.
“Fidelis ad mortem?” you asked with a cheeky smile, reciting the NYPD motto.
“Faithful unto death, my doll.” He nodded and kissed you gently.