Stiles One Shots

James 'Bucky' Barnes

"Son of a bitch." Bucky snarled, spinning around the corner shooting before ducking for cover again. He was pinned and he was on his own. He cursed his own stupidity again. This was supposed to have been a simple intel mission. Go in, get the intel, get out. But oh no, of course not. It could never be that simple. He spun back around, threw an explosive grenade and he ducked down, covering his ears. As soon as the grenade went off he looked around for anything he could use to his advantage. He saw a bunch of boxes piled high against the far wall but they don't hide the seam of a door from his eyes and he moved quickly, tossing the boxes away. The door was locked but he shot the lock off, moving into the room as quickly as he could, closing the door behind him. He took the moment to look around then and found himself closing his hands in tight fists to control the anger he felt rush through him. He was in front of a cell, and in the cell a little boy was curled up, eyes fixed on Bucky. The eyes were nearly luminescent and Bucky wouldn't be surprised if this kid turned out to be some sort of enhanced. The cell was closed with a standard lock. He had a thing for this. He used his metal arm to smash the lock off.

The door swung open and without even a thought Bucky beckoned the kid forward. "Come on, we are getting out of here." The boy didn't even hesitate but Bucky knew better than to think it was because he trusted him. He had obviously been tortured, the bruises were obvious as were the restraint marks on his wrists and ankles. The kid was probably 5 or 6, but while he was fairly tall for his age, he was all skin and bones made all the more clear by the fact that he was dressed in tattered clothes quite a few sizes too large for him.

Bucky looked around and spotted the air vent this time. "Come on. There's our way out." And the boy didn't argue, allowing Bucky to help him into the vent even before he followed himself. It took quite a few twists and turns before Bucky stopped hearing people outside the vents and called for the boy to stop, letting them out into a room Bucky remembered seeing when he had broken in. They were almost out.

**

They arrived at the safe house and Bucky finally let himself look at the kid in front of him. They hadn't spoken, both concentrating on getting out of there, but now that they were free, they both had a chance to observe the person they were with.

"My name is James, but everyone calls me Bucky." Bucky introduced first, and the boy blinked in acknowledgement. "What's your name?." The boy just stared at him, for long enough that Bucky feared he wouldn't answer, but then the boy spoke.

"Stiles."

Bucky made a noise of acknowledgement before turning to regard the kid. He could see a handful of injuries already and glanced at the watch attached to his vest. Still had an hour before he needed to make contact.

"I have extra clothes if you want to change. And a medical kit, I'm not a medic, but if you let me look at your injuries, I may be able to help a little." Stiles just stared at him another moment, and Bucky felt as if the boy could actually see into his soul. Even as he had the thought the boy actually seemed to relax and nodded.

"Yes please."

Bucky was moving immediately, grabbing his kit and one of his extra t-shirts to start. He crouched in front of where the kid sat on the edge of the bed and gave what he hoped was a comforting smile.

"Alright. Tell me what hurts."

Stiles just shrugged.

"Everything." Stiles whispered.

Bucky nodded, he knew the feeling.

"Okay lets start with the big stuff. Can you breathe okay?."

That had Stiles taking a breath in to test, frown of concentration on his face. And then he nodded. "Yeah."

That was a good sign, it meant his ribs were probably okay.