The Red Soldier: Captain America and the Red Soldier

ISSUE #3

The groom looked quite flushed, though he was still grinning from ear to ear. '(Y/N)! Barnes!' he cheered, sounding almost tipsy, 'everyone's up and dancing now, what you doing out here?'

         'Was having a tab,' (Y/N) answered plainly, tapping the pack of cigarettes inside his pocket with a knuckle.

         'Well, looks like you're finished now,' Rictor smiled. He pushed the door open with one hand and beaconed them inside. (Y/N) (L/N) didn't move. Although the chances of bumping into one of the unfriendly police officers were now slim, he wasn't sure how he felt leaving the safety of the smoking terrace. 'C'mon (Y/N), you can't refuse the groom a dance on his wedding day,' Rictor pleaded with him, suddenly turning his attention to James Barnes, 'only if it's alright with you of course... I wouldn't want to steal anyone's date.'

         Bucky shrugged, his eyes focused on the floor beneath them. 'Go for it,' he grumbled, sticking his hands in his pockets, 'just about to go to the bar anyways.' He slinked back into the venue, loping towards the bar slowly.

         'I'm not sure if that's a definite 'yes',' said Rictor, raising a concerned brow.

         (Y/N) sighed, he'd have to make an excuse for Bucky's attitude. 'He's just tired,' he said, 'he'll be fine once he's had a drink.' He rubbed his hands together nervously. It had been almost three months since their official breakup, and yet being alone with Julio Richter still seemed to set him on edge.

Blood smeared between his fingers as he continued to pick at them anxiously. '(Y/N), you're bleeding,' Rictor stated worriedly, taking hold of his hands, and inspecting the small gashes in his palms. The groom took a long pause, staring at the wounds. 'Barnes didn't do this – did he?' he asked, sounding very serious.

         (Y/N) snatched his hands back and scoffed, 'Course he didn't,' he spat, 'my glass just smashed in my hands.'

         Julio Richter glanced down at the cuts once more, 'sorry,' he apologised sincerely, 'come on, we'll get you some bandages, and then we'll have our dance.'

***

Bucky sat at the bar, downing shot after shot of absinthe, hoping deep down that eventually he'd get some sort of kick. He'd gotten a vodka martini for (Y/N), but it just stood there on the surface in front of him. (Y/N) (L/N) sat at the far end of the bar, sipping the martini Rictor had bought him whilst bandaging his wounds. It felt like only mere months since it had been him doing that, tending to (Y/N) (L/N)'s injuries. (Y/N) had fallen off of his motorcycle and hurt his leg pretty badly. Once the doctor had stitched shut his own wound, it had been Bucky who bandaged it.

'It's alright, at least now I can seem tough,' (Y/N) had shrugged, as though he hadn't just stuck a needle into his own flesh several times.

'How's that?'

'People'll ask me where I got it, and I can say a motorbiking accident,' (Y/N) had grinned, seeming quite proud of the scar he'd soon have on his leg, 'the only people tougher than those with motorcycle scars are those with shark attack scars.'

The truth was that (Y/N) (L/N) didn't need a motorcycle scar, or a shark attack scar, to be the toughest man on the planet. Not because he'd been one of the bravest soldiers Bucky had ever served alongside, or because he'd single-handedly defeated an other-worldly warlock in the pursuit of saving him, but because he continued living a life so many people would have given up on.

He tipped the contents of his boyfriend's cocktail glass down his throat, feeling a very slight twinge of tipsiness for a moment as he gazed down the bar to where (Y/N) sat, tightening the bandages around his hands and wrists as he laughed with Richter. The pair made a handsome couple. There was no hostility between the two, no trauma caused by years of unsolicited abandonment and uncertainty, no barriers, or despair.