Chapter Ten: Bucky's Dirty Little Secret
The salty Mediterranean breeze ruffled Bucky’s
already-tousled hair as he swung his leg over his Ducati, looking every inch
the bad-boy-turned-good Avenger.
His eyes scanned his surroundings, more out of habit
than any real expectation of danger, but his mind, traitor that it was, kept
drifting back to Sarah. He could picture her now… those honey-blonde waves,
that mischievous smile that had graced a thousand magazine covers.
God, he'd been an idiot to take this assignment. He
should be back in New York, holding Sarah’s hand through this mess with her
sister. But no, here he was, playing Jason Bourne in the south of France.
As if summoned by his thoughts, his phone buzzed. Bucky’s
heart did a little flip when he saw Sarah’s name and face light up the screen.
He knew he should ignore it… the mission, the danger, blah blah blah. But since
when did The Winter Soldier follow the rules? No, no, that was Captain America’s
schtick.
"Well, hello there, gorgeous," he purred
into the phone. "I was just thinking about you."
Sarah’s laughter tinkled through the phone, as
intoxicating as French champagne. He could picture her getting all dolled up
for some red-carpet thing, looking like a million bucks even with her hair in curlers.
“Liar! You probably have your hands full with all
those beautiful French women...”
With a teasing grin, Bucky replied, “Wait, are you
here? Can you see me?”
“You’re lucky you’re cute, Barnes. I’ll let that one
slide.”
Bucky chuckled, revelling in their playful banter.
“Perfect. Sarah Carter thinks I’m cute. I may as well be a puppy... or a
toddler... or... I don’t know, something pink and fluffy...”
“Did I say cute? I meant ruggedly handsome.
Masculine. Sexy… How’s that?”
“A tad patronising, if you ask me. But 'cause it’s
you, I’ll take it,” Bucky replied with a smile in his voice. “How are you
doing?”
"I'm good, but... I miss you," Sarah
admitted, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "Somehow, even the
compound feels empty without you popping by every other night."
"I miss you too, babydoll," he said,
surprising himself with his honesty.
"When do you think you'll be back?"
Bucky’s smile faded as he glanced at his surroundings,
knowing he and Sam were nowhere near finishing up. "I'm not sure yet. This
mission’s... complicated. But I'm hoping it won't be too much longer."
"Well, hurry back," Sarah breathed. "I
may have a surprise waiting for you when you return."
“Oh, yeah? Care to give me a hint?"
"Now where's the fun in that? Let's just say it
involves a little black number, as seen on a certain angel…”
Bucky groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. “Please
don’t say Candice Swanepoel… Please don’t say Candice Swanepoel…”
“Of course I’m talking about Candice. Wouldn’t be
torture if it were anyone else.”
“Sarah,” Bucky groaned again, envisioning her in a
particular piece of intimate wear. "You're killing me."
"Good. That'll teach you to leave me all alone
for so long."
When they finally said goodbye, Bucky hopped his
bike with a renewed sense of determination. The sooner they wrapped things up, the
sooner he could get back to Sarah. And that little black number she’d promised.
************************
Bucky’s fingers flew across his phone's screen, a
small smile playing on his lips. He barely registered the creaking of the old
floorboards as Sam entered their safe house.
"Any progress?" Sam asked, dropping a bag
of groceries on the kitchen counter.
"Hmm?" Bucky looked up, blinking.
"Oh, yeah. Isolated the encryption key. Should have it cracked by
morning."
Sam’s eyes narrowed, taking in Bucky’s uncharacteristically
distracted demeanour and the phone clutched in his hand. "You seem...
preoccupied."
"Just keeping up with news back home,"
Bucky shrugged, quickly pocketing the device.
"Right, ‘cause CNN requires that much
typing."
Bucky cleared his throat, moving to help with the
groceries. "You know how it is. Gotta stay informed."
Sam’s hand shot out, snatching Bucky’s phone from
his pocket. But Bucky lunged for it, almost destroying the phone in the process.
"What's the matter, Buck? Got something to
hide?" Sam teased. "Or should I say... someone?"
Bucky’s silence was all the confirmation Sam needed.
His grin widened. "I knew it! Who is she? Let me guess... that cute
barista from the café down the street?"
"It's nothing," Bucky insisted, turning
off his phone. "Just drop it, okay?"
Sam’s eyebrows shot up. "Nothing? I've known
you for half a decade. You've never been this attached to your phone on a
mission. Hell, you've never been this attached to your phone, period… Just tell
me who she is."
“Forget it. Not happening!” Bucky brushed past him,
his patience wearing thin.
“Buck, c’mon! You’re my bud, my bro. Tell me! ” Sam
pleaded, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Does Steve know? He must
know. I bet he knows…”
“Let it go, Sam. There's no girl, alright?”
Trying to coax him into revealing his little secret,
Sam continued prodding, tugging on Bucky’s somewhat defensive nature. He knew
that when it came to those close to his heart, Bucky had a tendency to
short-circuit.
“Why are you being so secretive? Are you embarrassed
by her?”
Bucky gritted his teeth, flexing his hand. Any
normal person would have run. One doesn’t twist the lion’s tail and expect to
get away unscathed.
“No,” he replied curtly, shutting down the
conversation.
“Oh, wait, I think I’ve got it... It’s so obvious…” A
flicker of panic flashed in Bucky’s eyes. He wasn’t ready for anyone to know,
least of all Sam. “I knew you had your eye on that German flight attendant,”
Sam declared triumphantly. “…And I gotta admit, the chemistry between you two
was off the charts!”
Relieved that Sam had gloriously missed
the mark, Bucky grabbed a beer and collapsed onto the sofa. But he knew it was
only a matter of time before his friend resumed his interrogation, possibly
requesting explicit details about the alleged affair with the buxom blonde.
************************
Bucky leaned back, closing his eyes as he tried to
catch a few moments of rest before their debrief. He'd barely managed to drift
off when he felt a sharp poke in his ribs.
"So," Sam’s voice cut through his doze,
"you gonna tell me about her or what?"
Bucky cracked one eye open, shooting Sam an
exasperated look. "Seriously? It's a seven-hour flight. You couldn't wait
five minutes?"
Sam grinned, undeterred. "Seven hours is plenty
of time for you to spill all the juicy details. Was I right? Is it the German?”
With a groan, Bucky straightened in his seat.
"There's nothing to tell."
"Oh, come on. You were glued to your phone the
entire mission. That's not nothing."
"Drop it, Sam. Please."
But Sam was like a dog with a bone. He leaned in
closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Is it someone
from S.H.I.E.L.D.? Oh God, please tell me it's not Lauren from Accounting.
She's had her eye on you for months."
Despite himself, Bucky let out a snort of laughter.
"It's not Lauren."
Sam’s eyes lit up at this small victory. "Aha!
So there is someone! French chick?"
“No.”
“Italian?”
“Sam!”
“Okay, okay. Where’d you meet her?”
Bucky cursed under his breath. "Look," he
said, his voice low and serious. "It's new, okay? I don't even know what
it is yet. Can we please just leave it at that?"
Sam studied Bucky’s face for a long moment. Then,
surprisingly, he nodded. "Alright, alright. I'll back off." He
paused, then added with a grin, "for now..."
Bucky rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of
relief in his expression. He settled back into his seat, pulling out his phone.
Sam watched as Bucky’s fingers hovered over the
screen, clearly itching to type out a message. "You know," Sam said
casually, "whoever she is, she must be pretty special to have you this
worked up."
The humid air of Madripoor clung to Bucky’s skin as
he sprinted down a narrow alley, the sound of angry hollers echoing behind him.
Sam was at his heels, both of them weaving through the maze-like streets.
A bullet shot past Bucky’s ear, embedding itself in
a wooden crate just ahead. Without breaking stride, he vaulted over a stack of
boxes, hearing Sam’s laboured breathing close behind.
"Left!" Bucky hissed, grabbing Sam’s arm
and yanking him down another alleyway. The smell of spices and rotting fruit
assaulted their senses as they dashed past overflowing dumpsters.
Sam glanced over his shoulder, his eyes widening.
"They're gaining on us!"
Bucky’s mind raced, scanning their surroundings for
an escape route. His gaze landed on a rusty fire escape. "Up there!"
he shouted, already leaping to grab the lowest rung.
As they scrambled up the rickety ladder, the hollering
grew louder. Bucky could hear the clang of boots on metal… their pursuers
weren't far behind.
They reached the rooftop, sprinting across the
uneven surface. Bucky’s lungs burned, his legs screaming in protest, but he
pushed on. The edge of the building loomed ahead, a narrow gap separating it
from the next structure.
"We're gonna have to jump!" Bucky yelled,
accelerating towards the ledge.
Sam tried matching his pace, a wild grin spreading
across his face despite the danger. As they neared the edge, he turned to Bucky,
eyes glinting even as gunshots rang out behind them.
"Hey, Buck," Sam panted, "in case we
don't make it out of this alive... anything you wanna say to me?"
Bucky smirked, taking a second to steel himself.
“Yeah. Jump!"
The boys launched themselves into the air, and for a
heart-stopping moment, the world fell away beneath them. Sam’s stomach lurched
as they sailed over the gap, the unforgiving concrete of the opposite building
rushing up to meet them.
They hit the rooftop hard, rolling to absorb the
impact. Sam winced as his shoulder scraped against the rough surface, but there
was no time to catch his breath. Bucky staggered to his feet, pulling Sam up
with him.
As they took off running again, Sam shook his head
in disbelief. "You're unbelievable, you know that?"
Bucky laughed breathlessly. "So I’ve heard."
Suddenly, the roar of motorcycle engines filled the
air.
“Let’s go. We’ve got company.”
The chase led them deeper into the city's
underbelly, past dilapidated buildings and dark alleys.
Sam eyes widened. "Dead end!" he yelled,
pointing ahead to where the narrow street terminated in a solid brick wall.
But just as their pursuers arrived, a shot rang out
from somewhere above them.
The lead thug crumpled to the ground. His companions
whirled around in confusion, only to fall one by one as more shots echoed
through the alley.
In a matter of seconds, all five thugs were down,
leaving Bucky and Sam staring in stunned silence. The alley fell quiet, save
for the idling engines of the abandoned motorcycles.
“What the...?” Sam whispered in disbelief as a
familiar figure emerged from the shadows at the far end of the alley.
The figure moved closer, and Bucky felt his jaw drop
in recognition.
Sharon stepped into a pool of light cast by a dim
streetlamp. Her familiar face was set in a hard expression, her eyes cold. But
what made Bucky’s blood run cold was the gun in her hand… now pointed directly
at them.
Sam let out a low whistle. "Well, I'll be
damned," he muttered. "Didn't see that coming."
"Boys," Sharon said, her voice eerily
calm, "we need to talk."
“Talk? You have your gun pointed right at us.
Ever hear you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar?”
“Not you, Wilson. I meant with Lover Boy over here.”
Bucky’s mind raced, trying to make sense of the
situation. Sharon Carter, their reliable colleague, his new girlfriend’s
sister, now stood before them as a deadly sharpshooter with a gun trained on him.
Sharon directed her piercing gaze back at Bucky.
“What’s your game with my sister? Is it the fame? The money? What is it about
her that makes you people so weak?”
Sam’s eyes widened in sudden realisation. "Sarah
is your mystery girl?!”
Bucky blinked, confusion etched across his face.
"Hold on… Hold on… Your sister? That’s what this is about? Look, if
you're worried about Sarah, I promise my intentions are–"
"Worried?" Sharon spat, her voice dripping
with venom. "You think I’m worried?"
She let out a harsh laugh, her finger tightening on
the trigger. Sam instinctively raised his hands, trying to appear
non-threatening.
"Whoa, easy there," he said, his voice
calm despite the gun pointed at Bucky’s chest. "Whatever this is about, we
can talk it out. There's no need for–"
"She's been back in town for what, a couple of
months? And already she's got you wrapped around her little finger…"
Bucky’s brow furrowed, still not grasping the
situation. "Carter, I care about Sarah. I don't understand why that's a
problem for you."
"Of course you don't understand," Sharon
snarled.
Sam, who had been watching the exchange with growing
comprehension, stepped forward cautiously. "Carter, come on. This has
nothing to do with Bucky. This is about you and Steve, isn’t it? You figure now
that Sarah’s back…"
Sharon's gaze snapped to Sam, her gun following.
"Stay out of this, Wilson. This doesn't concern you."
"The hell it doesn't," Sam retorted.
"You've got a gun pointed at my partner. I'd say that makes it my
business."
Bucky, still trying to defuse the situation,
attempted again. "Listen, whatever issues you have with Sarah, or with
Steve, we can work through them. I'm sure Sarah doesn't mean to–
"To what?" Sharon interrupted, her voice
rising. "To always be the centre of attention? To always get everything
she wants? God, even you, Barnes. I thought you were stronger than that.”
The cogs in Bucky’s mind turned at double speed, suddenly
seeing the situation in a new light. He took a cautious step forward, his hands
still raised. "Sharon, think about this. Why would Sarah need Steve when
she has me?”
She blinked rapidly, her grip on the gun loosening.
"What?"
"You're worried about Sarah and Steve, aren't
you?" Bucky pressed on, his voice gentle but firm. "But if Sarah and
I are together, she won't need him. Your relationship with Steve is safe."
Sharon tilted her head as she processed Bucky’s
words. The gun lowered an inch, then another.
"I... I hadn't thought of it that way,"
she murmured, more to herself than to the boys.
Sam watched the exchange with bated breath, slowly
relaxing his stance. His eyes darted between Bucky and Sharon, disbelief etched
across his features. Sharon Carter… was batshit?
Bucky took another step closer, his hands now
lowering slightly. "Sharon, I care about Sarah… And you’re engaged to
Steve. We're not threats to each other. We could even be allies."
Sharon's arm dropped to her side, the gun now
pointing at the ground. Her eyes, previously blazing with anger, now shimmered
with unshed tears.
Bucky closed the distance between them, gently
taking the gun from Sharon's unresisting hand. "It's okay," he said
softly. "We all do crazy things when we're afraid of losing someone we
love."
Sharon's shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of
her. She looked up at Bucky, her cheeks tinged with embarrassment. "I'm
sorry, I don't know what came over me. I've never... I'm not usually like
this."
Sam, finally finding his voice, let out a low
whistle. "You can say that again. Remind me never to get involved with a Carter."
Bucky shot Sam a warning glance before turning back
to Sharon. "It's okay. We're all okay. That's what matters."
As the tension in the alley dissipated, Bucky and Sam
exchanged a look of shared amazement. The Sharon Carter they thought they knew…
composed, professional, almost as by-the-book as Steve was… seemed a far cry
from the woman who had just held them at gunpoint in a fit of jealous rage.
Watch Episode 10 Here:
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