Here to Help

Call me Steve

TWs: mentions of abuse, a small panic attack/PTSD symptoms, and while no one has an eating disorder, the behavior/the descriptions may be triggering to some

The best part about the jet ride was watching Bucky scrutinize every facet of the plane. He'd never been in a private jet before, and he was particularly weirded out by the lack of pilot. He kept saying he could fly better than a computer.

"I promise, Tony has us in good hands. He wants us to get there safe, remember?" I said, watching Bucky pace from one end of the plane to the other.

"No, he wants you to get there safe. I'm pretty sure he'd toss me into the propellers if he could," Bucky countered. "He'll probably shoot a hole in my chest the moment he sees me."

"He won't do any of that. He knows that if you aren't safe then I'm not helping him," I said, standing up.

"And I know that if you don't help that kid--even if Tony kills me--I'll come back from the grave and strangle you," Bucky said, pausing his pacing and pointing an angry finger between my eyes. "Like Tony said, you two are practically the same person. I remember fighting him: I felt like a kid in Brooklyn again, listening to him run his mouth like he couldn't get hurt. Made me think of the first time we met, to be honest."

"Oh god, don't remind me," I said, giving a laugh and crossing my arms. Bucky smiled slyly.

"You never did know when to shut up. You had too much heroism for that tiny little body," Bucky said, sidling up to me and resting his forearms on my shoulders. "'I can do this all day,' said the 90 pound asthmatic with a couple quarters in his pocket."

"Ha! Not so little anymore, I could beat those bullies into next week if I had this body back then," I said. Bucky hummed in agreement, running his cool metal hand (a kind gift from Shuri) down my torso, and he laughed as I flexed my abs so he could feel the muscles better.

"I have to say though," he said, and he gave me a sharp poke in the stomach that made me yelp. "It's way more satisfying to save the skinny kid from Brooklyn."

I laughed and circled my arms around his hips, giving him a kiss and touching my forehead to his.

"Aww, c'mon, are you saying you're not a fan of this new body?" I teased.

"Oh no I am definitely a fan," he said. "Very much a fan, yes. But saving the tiny idiot who doesn't know when to quit? That shit made me feel like someone out of one of those fantasy books you love so much."

I laughed and gave him another kiss.

"My hero," I said.

~~~

The jet landed just in time, being confined in that space for over twenty-four hours was starting to make me go bizerk. Bucky was oddly calm, but I suppose he's used to small spaces. He told me once that the room he slept in while under control of HYDRA was too small for him; he had to tiptoe around his bed to get to the door. A private jet was definitely bigger than that.

When I stepped out of the plane, the sun shone directly in my eyes, and for a moment I was blinded before I held up my hand to shield my face. In the few seconds it took my eyes to adjust, I spotted Happy standing next to a black car. Bucky and I made our way over there, lugging our suitcases behind us.

"Hey Happy," I said. "Thanks for coming all this way to get us."

"What did you expect? Did you think Tony was gonna make you get a cab?" Happy said gruffly. Yep, same old Happy. He took our bags, insisting almost angrily that we get in the car. Upon entering we saw that the window between the front and back seats was closed.