Burn

Chapter eleven: Superlative

Hey guys, sorry for the long wait until this chapter. I had warned you I was in exams and I really didn't have much time to squeeze in a little writing. But now everything's done and I'm ready for summer and I'm ready to get crunk as fuck. I'm also going to be updating more, probably once or twice a week, and regularly. Again, sorry for the long wait.

Like he had presumed, the morning of their extraction to California was rainy and grey. Fat drops of water had rushed onto the windowpanes of the house, the outside world a blur. The clouds were of a light ashen color, trapping sunlight, making the air cool and humid. As he trekked outside, his boots glossy with rainwater, he noticed how heavy and stagnant the air was; full of rain and humidity. A heavy weight settled over his chest and a mighty cough ripped from his throat as he approached the aircraft, his right hand clasped around the handle of a weapons bag. The grass scrunched delightfully under his boots as he watched Steve emerge from the mouth of the jet, clad in black jeans and a grey hoodie.

"We should head out very soon," Cap mentioned as he grabbed the bag from Bucky's extended wrist. Cap had a worried and esoteric look on his face, his expression torn between what he felt and what he should feel. His fingertips were cold as they skimmed along Bucky's wrist, which was abnormal and rare for Steve.

"I told you it was stupid to wait until today," Bucky grumbled, resisting the urge to put his hands on his hips and scowl. Instead, his face pulled into a frown, his teeth baring for a split second. His eyes were burning with annoyance.

"It wasn't clever to jump right back into the belly of the beast so fast," Steve answered in a patronizing voice. He was trying to reason with Bucky's impulsive nature; a nature that brought him to do stupid things that Steve remembered very vividly.

"We waited and we let them run back with their tails between their legs and we gave them time to lick their wounds," Bucky gritted through clenched teeth, his jaw clenched, the shadow of a stubble clear in the grey light. "They know we were involved and they might as well have been given time to build a wall as they waited for us to storm their abandoned railways."

As Bucky expressed his thinking, Steve stomped down from the plane, closer to where his friend stood under a sheet of rain. The rain very quickly dotted Steve's forehead, making his hair flatten on his skull, but also made the endearingly red color of his lips and cheeks stand out. "We needed to lick our own wounds too, Bucky," he reasoned, his voice steady and grave. "Maybe you and I have enhancements that permit us to accomplish unbelievable feats, but the people in that house don't. They need time to get a grip on themselves. It's not easy for them like it is easy for you and I."

Up close, Steve could see the storm raging in his best friend's eyes. He was trying very hard to grip his bearings, to understand Steve's point of view. He was trying very hard to ignore what HYDRA had put in him. It was never easy for Bucky, yet what HYDRA had implemented in his mind turned him into an uncontrollable machine. He completely lost sight of who he really was when a gun was tucked against his shoulder. Even with all his work, even now, he had trouble being Bucky Barnes when the time called to be The Winter Soldier.

Bucky stormed off, his boots scrunching sloppily on the wet grass. On his way back into the house, he almost came face to face with Addison, who was carelessly tying her hair into a ponytail. He came so close to her that he caught sight of the freckles on her nose and the rosy color of her cheeks. And as quickly as she appeared, she hurried by him, carefully avoiding his eyes.

He stared after her, planted there on the back porch, rain slowly dotting his forehead. She was wearing a new suit, one that Steve insisted she wear as it was aerodynamic, flexible, and resistant to cuts. But that suit fit her like a glove, the black texture of it molding to her body, making Bucky gulp on a considerable lump of saliva. Her undaunted dark hair was messily sweeping behind her. She walked through the wet grass towards Steve, where she stood legs shoulder-width apart and arms crossed. Bucky avoided a glance by Cap just in time as he fled in through the back door, the cover of the house quickly drying the drops of water on his skin.