Sergeant Barnes: The Last Mission (COMPLETE)

Chapter 3: Sam

I swear, when it comes to pancakes, Bucky eats like he will never eat again.

    I don't know where he gets it, but James Buchanan Barnes has the weirdest fetish for pancakes. He eats like he actually is a wolf, and not like it's a name he got from his vacation in Wakanda. I know that this doesn't fix anything, nothing can, but at least he's not talking because his mouth is full instead of...Steve.

    When this happens, I make sure that I don't talk about Steve, or war, or anything that might trigger his PTSD. I make fun of his appetite, or we talk about football, literally anything that doesn't really matter. I tried to talk about baseball once, aaaannd it didn't go over well. I think Bucky and Steve used to go to Dodger games. It would explain why he keeps a Dodgers cap in his apartment and never wears it.

    "If you're going to a game then do not go to the Seahawks game."

    "What's wrong with them? They finally got their arses out of the dirt!"

    "Yeah, that's not a good thing."

    "What?"

    I love it when I get to update him on pop culture. "Okay, history lesson"

    "Not again..."

    "Oh, yes, again." I pulled out my phone as Bucky leaned back in his seat and chewed another pancake. Was that eight? I pulled up a picture of the game. "Seattle has only made the Super Bowl a couple of times, and they never won until 2014. When they did, they. Lost. It."

    "Well if they haven't won before-"

    "No, this is different. Here."

    I handed him my phone, and he watched the reaction video from Seattle. Thank God he knows how YouTube works now.

    Bucky has actually transitioned better than Steve did. He had Wakanda funds to help set him up (courtesy of T'Challa and Shuri having adopted the long-haired hobo), managed to score a deal on an apartment on the outskirts of Brooklyn. He won't tell me what he works as now, but apparently it's enough to get by on. Either that or he gets a paycheck for being the first white man to live in Wakanda.

    I offered to let him crash at my house after the battle, if he wanted to come back to New York. He slept on the couch until he got his apartment, and now he just drops in when these nightmares happen. I've tried to drag him to the VA a couple times, and he came once. I dunno. I guess since he met me when he met Steve, he can't do this too often.

    Today, I figured breakfast would do the trick. It was some restaurant about five miles from the capitol building, with outside seating and a 24-hour breakfast menu. There was enough hustle and bustle to talk without having to yell, but the ongoing traffic provided enough background noise to cover a conversation if needed. Bucky loved it, and it did have the best bacon in D.C..

    I heard the video end and waved for the phone back. The punk has taken it all the way to Brooklyn before I realized he had it once.

    "I still don't get it."

    "Of course you don't, Barnes"

    I nearly knocked the table over jumping out of my seat. Bucky laughed (first time all morning, so that's a win) as a blonde five seven female assassin pulled up a chair.

    "Pancakes again?" asked Natasha.

    "He's eaten ten already. They don't call him the White Wolf for nothing."

    Nat smirked, not that she would let me breath if I called her that. Bucky grinned for a second, then looked out at the passing traffic, like he was waiting for someone to show up.

    "What's the Black Widow doing in D.C.?" Bucky looked back at us and leaned his elbows on the table. "Are you back on Congress?"

    "Congress?"

    "Oh, God, no." She rolled her eyes. "I only babysit when I have to. I'm on mission right now." She sat upright and pulled out her phone. She flipped her hair over her shoulder (I still liked the red better). To anyone else, it looked like she was just shifting, but I had known her long enough to know that she was checking for eavesdroppers. I looked over at Bucky, who apparently got the message too. I wonder if he does the same thing when he doesn't pull his hair back in a man bun like he did today.

    "Have either of you seen this guy recently?" She held out a file with some guy from Germany. He had light skin, brown hair, short (although he needed a cut soon), five ten, and about 30-some years old. I didn't know how to pronounce his name.

    "Not that I know." I leaned back, looking around. Casually of course, 'cause I'm cool, ya know?

    "Что он делал?" asked Bucky, folding his hands and looking up at her.

    "English, you communists."

    Natasha's raised her eyebrows. "Sure, крестьянский." Bucky laughed.

    I looked over at him. "What did she just say?"

    Natasha put her phone back in her pocket. "We detected an unusual radiation readout from the Berlin airport 20 hours ago. Four hours later, the same readout came from the Richmond airport in Virginia" She watched a bus pull into the station a couple hundred feet off. "Traced him to D.C., but haven't seen him since."

    Bucky sat up and folded his arms. "X-ray interference."

    Natasha nodded. "We don't know what he had on him, but we do know that it passed the detectors and gave off serious radiation. If he's gets in the Capitol..."

    I looked to the side, then back at her. "Game over."

    Bucky bit the inside of his cheek. "Any affiliations?"

    "Not that we know of. We haven't seen him before."

    I narrowed my eyes. "Who's we? Fury?"

    She looked at me like I just asked if she had brushed her teeth this morning, which is not a friendly look. "It's not the government."

    Bucky nodded at a nearby cop. "Do they know?"

    Nat shrugged. "Maybe. I didn't tell them. It's not my job. I'm just trying to find the guy, bring him down, scan him, and report back." She stood up. "If you see him, give me a call."

    "Will do." I waved at her as she walked off towards the bus, then stopped and looked back at us.

    "Unless you want to help?"

    I laughed and shook my head. "Nuh uh. I ain't getting back into that crap. But have fun."

    She looked at us for another second, then went on her way to catch the bus to the Capitol. I looked back at Bucky, but he was looking back at his empty plate. "I should get going. Thanks, Sam."

    "Anytime, man."

    We cleared our plates and inside to drop off our dishes. I went up to the front counter to pay, and Bucky stood off to the side. I got to the front of the line and paid in cash. I mean, it's not like I'm gonna carry a credit card on a run. I turned to walk out but Bucky was looking over my shoulder. I turned towards him and followed his stare, some tall dude in a hoodie. With a backpack. A big one.

    "Is he going camping or what?"

    Bucky didn't look away. He watched this guy's every move, trying to burn holes through his skull. I didn't see Backpack's face, but I knew he wasn't five ten, so he's probably not the guy Natasha was looking for. Still didn't change the fact that he didn't need a bag that big to eat breakfast. Backpack looked over his shoulder then tossed the backpack over the counter behind the staff and bolted out the door.

    Bucky and I ran towards the counter. I called out "BOMB!" while dragging some poor cashier from behind the registrar.

    Bucky grabbed two waiters by the arm and super-jumped towards the door. "Everybody GET OUT!"

    Everyone scurried to the door, but not fast enough. There were still fifteen or so people in the restaurant when it blew up.

    I thought I was finally done with this ****.