Thorns and Roses

98 7 0
                                    

Steven Grant Rogers felt pretty shit if he did say so himself. 

It was yet another chilly night in Brooklyn and Steve -being Steve- was left without a coat or gloves. Just a thin leather jacket and a handful of used tissues

Was it the flu? Maybe food poisoning? Maybe he was just very tired, very, very tired. He hadn't been sleeping well at all- too many nightmares. That was probably the most likely cause to his suffering. 

Eithier way he felt weak and washed out as if he couldn't even trust his own legs or his hands or his vision for that matter; nothing like the Captain America everyone knew and loved

In fact, he hadn't felt right for a while ( although today was particularly bad) but, no, he couldn't quite remember the last time he had felt completely right and sure of himself. Something was always missing

The cold nibbled at his hands and feet and the rain was drumming on the cobbled pavement below as Steve pulled his jacket closer, shivering in the cold as he sniffled once again. He just needed to get inside, in the warm. He knew the shortcut back to his safe - house. It was a dodgy lane; filled with the homeless and drug dealers but he was willing to take it if it sped up his route back to his place.

His eyes tired and droopy, he did his best to walk in a straight line while flipping several coins of spare change into the bowls of the homeless that lined the dismal street. Most of them were asleep, shivering more than he in the brunt of the cold winters air. He prayed for them

As he neared the estate and the end of the dark tunnel-like street he saw one last male laid away from the others, his brunette hair was pushed over a bleeding cut on his forehead.

Hang on, he knew that face. No, it couldn't. Could it? He moved a little closer, cautiously crouching down to get a closer look as he examined the face meticulously

A gush of wind blew back the man's fringe to reveal a pair of deep hazel eyes and a very strong jawline

Steve got lower to the ground, unsure of his thoughts. Was this really him? A glance down to the brunette's arm proved his thoughts as he squint his weary eyes to see that there were gleaming metal fingers only slightly covered by a worn-out glove. Steve, taken aback at the sight before him, did the only thing he could manage at that moment

"Bucky??" he blurted out a little louder than he had expected

The brunette awoke instantly, flinching like a scared kitten, startled as he rubbed his eyes to view the tired man in front of him

"Steve" Bucky gasped startled "Is it really you?"

A surge of joy rose up in Steve as he felt more sprightly than before

"Yes it-" Steve exclaimed, but before he could finish his response the man in front of him had taken off leaving everything but a small sactual

---------------------------------------------------------

Bucky ran.

Bucky ran further than before

He was not doing this

He was not letting Steve get involved in this

He was not letting himself get attached to anyone

He was never looking back

But most importantly: he was not letting Steve get hurt again

It was safe to say he had no idea where he was going or how far he would run; he just knew he needed to put distance between him and the soldier and hope he didn't follow. He sprinted so fast he was almost wheezing for breath, his boots thudding on pavement harder than the rain as he turned a sharp left and headed for another alley

————————————————————

"No, no, no" Steve sighed disappointed but mostly angry tone... this couldn't be happening, the man he'd been searching for what felt like his entire life was just slipping away from him... again

He prepared to chase after him. Asthma was gripping at his throat and his knees felt weak from whatever bug he had managed to catch, but he was not letting him go... or so he thought

"Stay right where you are" a gravelly, disembodied voice ordered as he wrapped his bicep around the blonde's neck

Steve gasped for air as he tried to make sense of what was going on while still in this hazy sicky state

"I'm not sure you know who I am" He answered, it would have been threatening, had he not been wheezing for breath after just one sigh. All he could think about was finding Bucky

"Look, man, we just want your shoes and your bag and maybe your glasses, and oh that jacket looks nice - I think we'll have that too. I don't exactly think your from this part of town, now are you?" he remarked flippantly, his arm getting tighter with every word.

Steve looked down at his blue sneakers, they were nice shoes, given to him by Tony on his birthday last year actually. If they came from Tony there was definitely some money in these things that he didn't want to give away to these druggies. He certainly didn't have the slightest bit of energy to fight but he wasn't going to back down either nor was he going to let this distract him from finding Bucky.

"Do you guys know James Barnes?" He asked, still trying to keep his breathing slow and steady in order to keep his authoritative tone

"Yeah, know him quite well actually, so are you going give me your kicks or am I gonna have to take them off your corpse?" he continued menacingly

I know him quite well actually, what was that supposed to mean? Where they friends? Was Bucky a part of this Steve looked to the cuff on the leather jacket asphyxiating him, thorns and roses, was Bucky a part of this gang?

Awkwardly kicking one leg out behind him, Steve managed to get free of this prick's grip

"I really have to go" He wheezed embarrassingly

"Take off your shoes" the other guy demanded using a less playful tone now

Steve thought about his next move wisely for a few seconds before sniffing once more and almost losing his breath

"Tell me where Bucky is likely to be hiding and I'll consider it"

"Not good enough" he retorted before whistling to his other friends who seemed to come out of the shadows one by one.

Steve turned to see around 16 guys, all dressed in matching leather with a quippy hairdo. Some with bats, others with guns, some with anything they could find on the floor. All 16 were ripped and oozed masculinity out of there sleeveless tanks and ripped jeans. Some even howled like wolves.

Steve didn't have to strength to take them all, not without his shield, but he knew damn well he was going to have to find it somewhere if he was gonna get back to Bucky.

All he could think about was his old friend. Was he alright? Was he scared? Was he in danger?

Attached (stucky: Steve/Bucky fanfic)Where stories live. Discover now