I'm Here | ✓

37 - Plan

I gasp and snap my fingers. "I've got it."

Steve uncurls his arms from around me and leans back against a pillow. "You've got what?"

I launch myself off the couch and start pacing around in the middle of his living room. "Sam mentioned yesterday that he follows celebrity news, right? Well, I thought that was stupid, but he mentioned I had a famous dopplegänger. So I was thinking, what if we brought the fight to us instead? Stage an ambush. Draw a little attention." I chew on my nail anxiously, working out some logistical things in my head. "I don't know. It sounds stupid."

"No, no, wait. I think I get where this is going." Steve leans forward intently from his spot on the couch. "So, you're saying, do something big dressed up as this guy to bring the agents to us?"

I snap my fingers and point at him. "That's just it. We don't have to do anything big. They've gotta be wandering all over this city looking for us, right? So, this'll be our chance to survey the terrain, to see who we're up against. I'll look for agents as this guy, walk around the city for an hour, and then I'll, I don't know, sign something for someone? I can forge signatures really well."

Steve pauses, and for a second, I think he's going to say we should try something else, but then we lock eyes and he grins.

"You are a goddamn super genius, Buck."

I bow dramatically at him.

Steve slips his phone out of his pocket and taps the screen. "I'm gonna call Sam. For this to work, it's gonna take all of us."

Forty-two minutes later, Sam kicks open our apartment door and dumps a bunch of plastic bags across Steve's countertops.

I pause, towel still in hand after trying to dry my hair.

Sam, of course, makes the first jab. "Oh look, the king of grease finally took a shower."

"To my dismay." I gesture at the bags. "What's in those?"

He reaches into one and pulls out a jacket. "Clothes, mostly. Some hair supplies, too. I didn't know what you guys had."

"That's fine," Steve interjects. "I can try to see if I can find pictures of his guy to compare. What's his name?"

"Sebastian Stan. He was in one of the movies my friend dragged me over to see."

"You have a life outside of dressing up as a pigeon?" I say, running a brush through my damp hair.

"Shut up, Blaine. Hot Tub Time Machine was a bad movie, but I was convinced Hydra put you in an acting career, seeing as you play the role of the bully so well."

I keep my mouth shut. It's been hours since I broke down this morning, and I'd rather not relive those moments of guilt.

"Anyway, put these on." He tossed a few clothes in my direction. "I bought some for me and Steve too, so don't take too long."

I shut the door to Steve's room and lay the clothes out on the bed. "Blue isn't my color!" I shout to Sam, eyeing the palette he picked out.

"Your boyfriend has blue eyes, dumbass! You mean to tell me you don't fall for those?" He calls back sarcastically.

"Fair point," I mumble, slipping off my T-shirt.

After a few moments, I step out into the hall, yanking at the end of my jacket. Steve and Sam look up from where they're collaborating, and I spot Steve let a tiny smile slip.

I tug at my jeans. "Why does he wear his pants so tight?"

Steve holds up his phone, likely glancing between the photo of the actor and me. I slip my hands in my pockets on reflex.

"Zip up the jacket and put on this hat," Sam says, throwing me a baseball cap like a frisbee. I do what he says. Steve hums.

"I can still see your hair. Let's see if we can't fix that," Steve says, guiding me towards the bathroom. I groan in fake irritation.

He has me stand in front of the mirror while he twists my hair up into the hat, trying to disguise the fact that it goes down to my shoulders. Sam snickers occasionally from where he leans against the doorway, and I throw him an icy glare.

"This isn't the first time I've had to go undercover, you know," I sigh.

"Okay, princess, I believe you."

"There," Steve says, trying to break the tension. He holds his phone next to my reflection in the mirror. I glance between my face and this actor, and after a moment, I nod.

"Good work." The hood on my jacket flips nicely over the baseball hat, and I use it to hide the few strands of hair that dangle behind my neck. I spin around and turn to Steve, waving my arms for dramatic effect.

"I like seeing more of your face, if I'm honest," he comments with a smile.

"Yeah, well, I'm Sebastian Stan now. Trust me, you'll see a lot more of this if I don't die on this mission."

"Don't say that." He shoves my shoulder a little bit on the way back to the kitchen, and I follow him diligently, throwing Sam a mocking look. He makes a joking throat-slitting gesture with his finger, and I pull a knife out of my pocket with a look of fake curiosity. He rolls his eyes and I put it back. Nobody thinks my violent jokes are funny anymore.

"Alright, Sam, we went over the plan before you got here, but just to recap, Bucky is gonna walk the street with these shaded sunglasses." He hands them to me, and I slide them on my face. "He's gonna walk around for a while, looking for agents, and then eventually take them off and do something to attract attention to himself as Sebastian Stan. Hopefully, it'll draw a crowd, some fans that we're gonna leave alone, and then some reporters or paparazzi too. As long as we get one agent in the fray, you can use Redwing to tag them, then Bucky's gonna distance himself and come back here secretly. Hopefully, they'll take us to the rest of them, and we'll figure out what to do after he's back here safely."

Sam ponders this for a moment. "The suit's in my car. I'll tag Bucky when he leaves the building and then he can identify an agent for me verbally. I'll add another tag on them. Yeah, this might actually work."

"Alright, you ready for this?" Steve says, clapping a hand on my shoulder. I give him a small smile.

"I think so."

"Remember, keep your head down, hands in your pockets, smile at the fans." He leans forward and presses his lips against mine. "And be safe," he murmurs.

We pull apart and find Sam leaning against the counter, arms crossed, looking unimpressed. He shrugs. "I guess that's proof enough, right?"

I roll my eyes and turn back to Steve. I poke him playfully in the chest. "Stay out of the way, okay? Just like we planned. I don't want you getting roped into this again."

He pulls my hat down jokingly with a smile. "Not a foot off the threshold. I didn't forget."

I pace towards the door, nervous but equally confident. My hand is on the doorknob before I realize this could end very badly. I take a deep breath and turn back. I point at Sam.

"I'm counting on you, alright? Steve would be devastated if anything happened to me, so keep your little bird eyes open." It's just a quip, but Sam realizes that I'm trusting him with my own safety. I have no idea how this is going to go, but I'm putting my life in the hands of a little red machine.

My eyes flick to Steve, who has his eyebrows furrowed in worry. "Sam, keep an eye on this one for me, please? He has a tendency to do stupid things the second I step out of his line of sight."

Sam nods. "Crashing a plane, for instance."

"Right?!" I laugh, even though the moment is bittersweet. I swallow and meet Steve's eyes again. "I love you, punk."

"Jerk. Be safe out there."

I give him a tiny salute and walk out the door.

Just another mission. You'll be fine.

So why the hell am I so paranoid?