The Asset

Chapter 9

The world was resilient. He'd forgotten that, along with so many other things. But he saw signs of it everywhere he looked – streets being cleared, buildings being rebuilt, people going about their lives even in the wake of violence and terror. They'd told him he shaped the century – through death, through fear – but that wasn't entirely true. It was what came after that mattered, all the ways that the world found to heal itself. The future was shaped by those who stuck around to clean up the mess.

So where did that leave him? It had been so long since he'd had a future. Even the idea of it was strange, overwhelming. But whatever it held had to be better than the past. He just had to start small.

Coffee was small, normal. He should be able to handle normal.

Shrugging deeper into his jacket, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and scanned the cafe. The tables spilled out onto the sidewalk, most of them empty at this time of the afternoon. His contact wasn't here yet. No, not his contact. This wasn't a mission. But it was still a struggle to think of things any other way.

He glanced back down the street, reconsidering the whole idea. Why was he so damn nervous?

"Hey, Buck."

He turned slowly. Steve stood behind him with a cup in each hand, a thin-lipped smile just visible beneath the brim of his cap. Last time they'd seen each other, he'd been tracking a Hydra strike force. Steve had crashed the party and they'd fought side-by-side, almost like old times. Afterwards, he'd convinced him to come in, that there were people who could help him. But then he'd been called away again, off to save the world. Captain friggin' America.

Bucky couldn't help by smile back, his nervousness forgotten. This was Steve. And now he remembered what that meant.

He nodded to a table and they sat down. Steve passed one of the cups, keeping his face carefully still as he watched Bucky take his first sip. It definitely wasn't any kind of coffee he remembered. Steve was struggling not to laugh.

Bucky set down his cup. "Welcome to the future, huh?"

"Afraid I'm not the best tour guide. But I can tell you it does get easier."

Easier for him, maybe. Steve had died a hero, had woken up and kept saving the world without missing a beat. He'd died... and become something else.

Steve was watching him with concern, but he didn't press. They shared the silence, watching the world move on by. It was nice. But if this was really supposed to be like old times, he'd be drinking something stronger. He almost wished he was.

Steve took another sip, watching him over the rim of his cup. "So... you and Natasha?"

"Oh, we're going right to that, are we?"

Steve grinned. "You always did pick girls that terrified me."

"Way I remember it, that was all of them."

It felt good to laugh again. But if Steve was looking for details, he was going to have to look somewhere else. Bucky had never been shy. He'd even made up a few stories, back when that was as close as Steve ever seemed likely to get to the real thing. But with Natasha he knew better. If she found out they'd turned into a couple of gossipy old men, he was in for a world of hurt. Even if he might enjoy it.

"It's kind of ironic, actually." Steve shook his head, smiling to himself. "She's been trying to find me a date for months and I ended up finding her one. I mean, technically."

Bucky chuckled. "Well, if we're getting technical, Natasha and I go back a little further than that."

"So I hear. How does that work, anyway?"