When Bucky was on the run he was hurt and scared. Everyone was looking for him, but he found someone willing to help. In the end, a strong bond was forged in fire.
Bucky and Sam currently need help defeating the so-called Flag-Smashers, and he knew...
"We need to head back and change." I noted. There was no way this was gonna end well.
"Agreed." Bucky stated. Then we started to go back to Zemo's place where all our gear was.
On the outside I looked numb, maybe zoned out. But I was panicking on the inside. No one has ever threatened my family—as far as anyone's concerned I don't have any left. This was a first, and I was not handling it well. I could feel the color draining from my face—if it's possible—and my heart beating in my ears, wanting to burst out. I was frightened and overwhelmed and my body was feeling it all too well.
I started cracking my knuckles, a nervous habit. Just as if Bucky and Sam could read my mind—or at least my face—they spoke.
"Hey..." Bucky softly caught my attention, snapping me out of my cloud of thoughts.
"You ok there?" Sam frowned, noticing my demeanor change from my normal nonchalant stance.
I didn't speak, fearing my voice would break. I just slowly nodded 'no' and took a deep breath in efforts to calm down.
"I'm scared." I confessed. When in doubt, mumble. Apparently loud enough for both of the men accompanying me to understand.
"We all are." I could see Sam's jaw clench as the words left his mouth.
Bucky just gave me a reassuring half-smile and grabbed my hand once again.
"We will deal with this." He stated with confidence.
"I know. Some crack team we got here." I breathed out, trying to lighten my own mood, causing them to do the same.
"We should go get ready." Sam said and Bucky nodded. That was when I realized we had stopped and I had leaned on the wall on the street with my hands on my knees.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I finished getting ready, zipping up my cat suit and checking my weapons. When I left SHIELD I knew I couldn't wear the same suits I had. Never wanted to take any chances at getting recognized—even by mistake. So I made my own. It was made out a very comfortable black and dark navy-blue material. The only thing I wasn't too fond of was the fact that it didn't have sleeves—only because I've always been a big fan of long sleeves and shoulder bullet wounds aren't fun.
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A knock on the bedroom door startled me.
"Time to go- oh." It was Sam, who stopped in his tracks and took a quick once-over on my outfit.
"Nice suit, Y/L/N."
"Thanks. I like yours too." It was the truth, though it could use some white and blue...
We walked towards the living room area where Bucky was zipping up his jacket. He looked nice—as always. He eyed my clothes and his mouth slightly parted.
