Fireworks: A Bucky Barnes Romance

Chapter 5

Bucky had only ever kissed Sarah on the cheek.

At first, Bucky'd been in and out of Sam and Sarah's house. Sleeping on the couch when he was in town, only seeing her every few weeks or so, and Sam not much more often.

Bucky'd gone back to his apartment in New York, more out of obligation than anything, but it hadn't taken him long to give notice and pack up his (meager) belongings. Brooklyn used to mean home to him, and comfort, and community, but it wasn't any of those things any more.

Surprisingly, he'd found all that in a small town outside New Orleans.

He hadn't taken Sam perfectly seriously when he'd warned him not to flirt with Sarah. But at the same time, Bucky didn't want to jeopardize what he had either. He was in a much better place since he finished the book, since he started looking forward. But to say he was stable would be, in his late mother's words, a "real whopper."

The third time he'd left their house for New York, he'd hugged Sam—bro hug, three taps—hugged the kids and then found himself with Sarah. It just felt natural to kiss her on the cheek as he said goodbye. It was something he would've done with his own mother or sister.

Which was a fact he had to explain explicitly to Sam, who followed him to the truck. "What the heck, man? What'd I say about flirting with my sister?"

"I wasn't. That's how I'd say goodbye to my sister. Didn't you say to do that?"

Sam had glared at him. "Got my eye on you. Don't forget it."

"I'm telling the truth, that's how people said goodbye, and you can't tell me nobody does it anymore, I've seen it. I saw some lady kiss Sarah's cheek as she left the party."

"Leticia? She's from Columbia."

"So? It's a thing. I'll kiss your cheek goodbye, too; prove it to ya."

Sam shoved him into the open truck. "You keep it to yourself. For the both of us."

But it was just so natural to kiss Sarah's cheek when he knew he'd be gone two weeks, three weeks. She expected it now even, leaned over slightly when he gave her a side hug and a goodbye.

But he'd gotten a little stuck there. Of course, he looked at her. Couldn't help it. He hadn't been physically and emotionally attracted to somebody in a long time. He'd felt it as soon as he met her, both at once.

He already knew a lot about her, from Sam. Knew she'd held together their family business, supported her two boys, gone through a long, lonely struggle alone and still had the emotional strength to send Sam back into the fight when he'd been needed. He respected that. And she knew most of his sad, sordid story, he assumed. No need to fudge dates, to pretend anything.

And she was pretty, wasn't she? Curves and eyes and her smile—when it came—made him warm inside.

That was how it was supposed to happen. You met somebody through a friend or coworker, somebody you had context for, somebody you had something in common with. Meeting people online had never made sense to him. There was no way to know if anything they said was real. There was no way for them to know if anything he said was real.

But meeting the sister of a friend, that was... right. This was how things happened. This was the kind of story you told your kids. "Yeah, the first time I saw your mom, I was on the boat and she came out scowling at Uncle Sam, and I couldn't wait to get her attention. She didn't scowl at me."

Yeah.

Plus she was easy to talk to.

"So then, Sam saved me," Bucky had told her at the party, letting a couple kids hang from his outstretched arm. "He swooped under this huge truck and grabs me before I'm crushed by the wheel. But we went tumbling through this field and landed in a heap..."

"A heap?" Sam had cut in. "Excuse you, you woulda been a smear on the road if I didn't save your butt. Super soldier, my—"

"Language," Sarah said, looking at the kids following the story.

Bucky had smiled at her. "Did Sam always brag about his exploits?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Brag? I didn't bring it up, solider boy, I'm defending myself. You're the one showin' off the arm."

Bucky still had his arm extended. "What this? I'd forgotten."

Sarah laughed. "No, you didn't."

Bucky grinned at her. "No, I didn't."

But what with one thing and another, despite a couple late night chats, and early morning smiles, and moments when a guy could, possibly ask to kiss the woman he was majorly crushing on, he hadn't.

And as Sarah ran toward the freeway and Bucky slammed two of Sandhurst's guys together, he regretted it. The two men's heads met like a gong and they slumped to the churned-up grass.

He elbowed another man in the side, with the metal arm, feeling a rib crack. The man grunted but kept at him.

Sandhurst could definitely push people past their normal physical limits, that was for sure. That explained why Sarah had suddenly had that inexplicable death grip.

Bucky whirled as he fought, avoiding choke holds, slamming fist into a jaw here, a nose there. On each of their necks or faces there was a disc. And in each of their hands, was another disc. As he spun and destroyed, he had to avoid those hands reaching for any of his exposed flesh.

He was also edging toward Sam who was fighting Sandhurst himself.

Sarah was still going towards the freeway, but Bucky knew he wasn't going to be ablet o get to her fast enough. Whether Sandhurst was running her back to the Jeep or planning to toss her in front of oncoming traffic, she needed to get somewhere safe.

The best Bucky could do was free up Sam to go swoop her up and shake that blasted disc out of her hand. Then they could work on the one on her neck.

Bucky hated mind control with a burning passion and he didn't want Sarah to suffer any longer than necessary.

With a burst of force, he extricated himself from the center of his own fight. Sprinting a few steps, he jumped onto Sandhurst's back, wrapping his metal arm around his neck.

"Go, Sam! Get her!"

Sam didn't have to be told twice. That was another good thing about him.

Bucky was fiercely happy to have Sandhurst's throat in his grasp. Sarah was away, she would be safe in the air with Sam.

Bucky clasped even tighter around Sandhurst's neck, while grabbing his knife. Sandhurst tried to reach around and get a grip on Bucky, but his angle was bad. Bucky brought the knife up. He would've ended it with a slice across Sandhurst's carotid, but the darn exoskeleton was in the way.

Whatever it was made of, it was dulling his knife, not giving way.

Sandhurst was growling. He raised his hands, which had repulsors like Ironman's, and tried to fire at Bucky.

Another of Sandhurst's guys was trying to take advantage of the moment and get behind Bucky. He tried to get a disc on the back of Bucky's neck, but Bucky twisted Sandhurst around. Instead of getting Bucky, Sandhurst's repulsor hit the other man and knocked him ten feet back.

Bucky changed strategies. He stabbed the knife as deep as he could in Sandhurst's exposed shoulder.

The man roared, though Bucky knew it wasn't that bad of a wound.

With his metal hand, Bucky began to crush the bits of the exoskeleton he could reach. The neck supports, crunched. He ripped out tubes, cracked casing, fractured the spinal structure.

Sandhurst was furious. He roared and fought and grabbed, but Bucky was stuck on his back.

"Who the hell are you?" Sandhurst roared.

"I'm the man who's going to end you."