Bucky Barnes Oneshots

Baby Driver

The blaring alarm of the bank and police sirens in the distance surprisingly didn't add to the amount of stress you were under and you dropped the bags of cash in the backseat, instructing your brother and partner in crime to do the same before you sat behind the steering wheel.
Andy slammed the door shut and smiled giddily at you before you let the wheels squeal and drove off, just as the first cop car came around the corner and you flipped them off while speeding past them.
Andy checked his side view mirror and there was a good distance between your car and the first Ford Crown Victoria and pulled one of the four duffel bags on his lap.

"I think this was our best one yet." He marveled at the bag, filled to the brim with cash and you smirked while drifting left around a corner, almost swerving into a coming car with the end of your beloved 67 Chevy Impala.

That car was your baby, your father showed you how to fix everything on a car and you loved thinking back to the days where you and your father spent hours in the garage, listening to 80's rock while he explained to you how a distributor worked or what the alternator was for.
He also taught you how to drive and you could've been an expert race driver with just 17 if he let you or if it had been legal.
You thought it was ironic that your father then died in a car crash along with your mother and from that point it had just been your twin brother Andy and you.
You retrieved the car after the accident and fixed it, bringing it back to its old glory and it had been really therapeutic for you, doing the one thing you always connected with your father and you've gotten over it fairly well.
Now the question remains how you've gotten into robbing banks for a living.
Well, your parents hadn't been the wealthiest, both working at least two jobs and you and Andy started working as soon as you were legal to help where you could.
You've gotten a job as a mechanic, earning yourself a lot of strange looks but you knew everything there was to know about cars so why not make your passion a job?

When your parents died, they didn't leave much in their will, of course you got the car but other than that, there wasn't much they had to give to you and your brother except of course unconditional love but you couldn't really live of that.
On top of that, your boss fired you, his reason being that a woman working in his shop would tarnish the reputation it had.
Unlike Andy, who was a real genius in all things tech and science, you were more on the pragmatic side of the spectrum so with your mediocre high school diploma, you turned to illegal street racing to earn money.
You were good, with the money you made, you financed Andy's college degree, wanting at least one of the [y/last name] children to make something of their future and Andy had no idea that you were risking your life almost every night just to get him through college.

When you called him from the hospital after losing your first race and ending up in the hospital with a broken leg and a few cracked ribs, you were kinda forced to tell him and he was not happy.
Of course it was noble of you but he did not appreciate that you were risking lots of years in jail just to get him adegree.
You recovered and so did the car after Andy fixed it this time and even though he made you promise to quit the racing, you went back out on the streets.
At one point you went to the guy who organized the races and asked if he knew someone who was in need of a mechanic and was also paying well.
He said he knew someone who was in need of a driver and you volunteered before you even knew who your employer would be or what they were doing for a living.

You soon learned that your job would be to be the getaway driver after they had finished robbing a bank and you should've been appalled by the idea of assisting bank robbers but there was no other way to put your outstanding driving skill to use and to earn money.
So it started, you waiting in front of the building in some new car that was given to you and attempting to get the countless police cars off your tail without being caught.
The car was always ditched in some car park where the group split up and you all regrouped in the loft of an uptown apartment building where the loot was then split up.