Sebastian Stan Short Stories

Bucky Barnes [9]

"Catching Up"

Post CW, alternate ending. Possible minor spoilers

*

I watched from an alcove as Bucky carefully broke down one of his pistols and laid the pieces out in front of him. Sometimes he would spend the entire day in T'Challa's expansive weapons vault, taking one gun at a time for cleaning and calibration. Someone was always watching via the ten or so security cameras that governed the vault's door and the target range. He moved at a casual yet efficient pace. It had taken him some time to work through the rifles, and now he was well into the pistols.

The gun came apart in sections. The barrel , the firing mechanism, the trigger and grip. Most people cleaned from there, but Bucky went a step farther. He was very at ease with the puzzle pieces that sat on the table. He began cleaning the Walther he had just disassembled, and I decided it was best to emerge from the shadows while the gun was inert.

"Having fun?" I asked. He didn't seem surprised at all to see me. I stood beside him at the table and watched as he began cleaning the PPK.

"I am. It's calming," he confirmed. "Were you having fun hiding from me?"

"I wasn't exactly trying to hide," I lied.

"Good. You were terrible at it," he joked dryly. His eyes never left the gun.

I took the Beretta I had watched him clean earlier and field stripped it after checking the chamber and magazine. He looked on out of the corner of his eye, his lips slowly tilting into a smile. I fit the pieces of the gun back together in no time and sat the gun back in its case.

"I've always preferred a Beretta when it comes cleaning time," I told him.

"They are easy to break down," he agreed. I stood silently next to him. He examined the gun, turning it over in his cleaner stained hands.

"You know, that's the gun James Bond prefers," I informed him. "Been using it for like the past forty years."

"Never heard of him," Bucky said simply.

"MI6 agent? Always got some sort of neat gadget and a nice car and the pretty girl?"

He shook his head. I walked away from the table and turned my back to Bucky. I spun around and pointed my fingers at him like a gun.

"Bond. James Bond," I mimicked. Even though he was smiling at my display, he continued to shake his head.

"I mean, my memory is pretty terrible sometimes, but I don't remember an MI6 agent named James Bond being on my radar," he said.

"No, no. He's not a real spy. He's a book character," I clarified. "And movies too. They're pretty good."

"I never got a lot of free time," he reminded me.

"Yeah, I guess not," I realized. Hydra and the KGB probably didn't care how up to date their superspy was about fictional superspies. "You just keep cleaning that gun. I'll be right back."

I left Bucky in the gun vault and eagerly ran through the compound until I came to my personal quarters. I keyed into the door and began deciding which books to bring Bucky. If cleaning a gun was relaxing, maybe reading spy thrillers would be too. My bookshelf was half filled with cheap romance novels and historical works, and half filled with an impressive collection of books from Fleming, Clancy, le Carré, and Ludlum. My life as a spy had directly influenced my reading choices. I grabbed the Bond Novels that inspired the most recent line of films and took them back to James.

"They've been making Bond movies for years," I told him, "but the most recent ones star a guy named Daniel Craig. These are the books his movies are about."

"And you just happened to have these?" Bucky asked.

"Don't judge my hobbies, Barnes," I challenged lightheartedly. "But yes, I have. And if you want to read these and watch the movies, I've got those too. I bet we could all use a movie night."

"A movie night watching movies about spies and assassins?" he checked.

"Natasha gets a kick out of naming the guns they use or calling out factual errors. She and Clint also like to play the "I've been there" game for every exotic location," I told him. "Have fun."

*

Two days later

*

"Exactly how many of those books do you have?" Bucky asked. I looked over my shoulder at him before turning back to my scrambled eggs.

"All of them," I answered. I salted the eggs and pushed them around with a spatula. "And I have other spy series if you want. Some of John le Carré's stuff has been made into movies and TV shows."

"Are there more James Bond movies than just the four?"

"Definitely. The first movie came out in the fifties," I told him.

"Can we watch them in order? After I read the other books though," he asked.

"So you liked them?"

"I can see why Natasha likes picking them apart, but yeah," he said. I took my eggs out of the pan and carried them to the dining table. "When can you get them?"

"After I eat."

Bucky sat down next to me, rereading the dust jacket on one of the books. He waited patiently while I ate my eggs far slower than normal. He even sat through my second cup of coffee. But once my plate was in the dishwasher, he was back to asking about my books. I had created a monster.

*

Author's Note:

So we're up to 600 reads! Naturally I'm super excited.

Also, I love the Bond movies. My father likes to count the bullets fired and point out when a particular character has shot too many times for a certain gun or magazine. Retired military. What can you do? And most Beretta pistols really are easy to disassemble.