The Collection- Bucky Barnes

Mission: Murphy's Law- i

Just once, Steve would like for a mission to go exactly the way as planned. Get in, do the job, get out. Somehow, some way, there were always complications. From weapon malfunctions, breach of security too early on. You name it, it could go wrong. It was as if Murphy and his law were out to get the Avengers.

This time, it was underestimation. Too many opponents and only two of them. Just Steve and Bucky. If the situation weren't so strenuous, Steve might have cracked a joke about old times. But his best- and oldest- pal is bleeding out in his arms. No time for jokes or wasting time on anything but an extraction plan.

Which, by the way, they don't have.

"Buck, you with me?"

The response is a series of garbled moans and groans.

"Stay with me, pal."

Where the hell is he supposed to go? Bucky sure as shit isn't going to make it all the way back stateside. Sure, there's med equipment on the quinjet but Steve doesn't know the first thing about how to patch someone up. Not the way Bruce or Y/N-.

Y/N.

Oh, Buck is gonna hate him for it. At least he'd be alive.

"Don't worry," Steve whispers, "you're gonna be okay."

"Not...Don't take me to...Steve...."

Too bad, I'd rather you live, Steve thinks to himself.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rap, rap, rap.

Quiet, but enough to rouse her from the light sleep. Rain, she decides, nice and much-needed rain. It might be enough to perk up the morose little peonies on the outer window basket.

Rap, rap, rap.

Louder this time. It makes her crack open an eye. Okay, not a light sprinkle of rain. God, maybe a thunderstorm. Good.

"Y/N!"

That's most definitely not rain. She isn't planning on sleeping tonight anyway, she never does. She pulls herself off the sofa and rubs the back of her hands over her eyes. Now, as to who is knocking on her door at four in the morning, she's got no clue.

After moving two years ago, she still hasn't made many friends. Not that her work schedule allows for time to go out. The closest thing she has to a friend at this point is the nurse who always works the same shift as her. And Y/N is 99% sure the nurse still doesn't know her name.

She's already working up the energy to trudge back to the hospital when she pulls open the door. Whoever they've sent to fetch her from her lackluster sleep/time-off is really about to be met with her worst-.

"Steve?"

Y/N is staring right at the one and only Captain America. Bloodied stealth suit and all. He's got a raging gash on his temple, a split lip, and the same easy-going All-American smile.

And, not at all to her shock and terror, his best friend.

Her ex-boyfriend.

Half collapsed against Steve's side. Eyes fluttering between closed and half-open. Blood is all over his shirt. All over Steve's hands.

"What the-?"

"We need your help."

Wordlessly, she steps aside and lets him haul her unconscious ex into her home. She kicks the door shut and, for safe measure, locks both the knob and the deadbolt.