Captain America and Bucky Barnes Imagines

115. BUCKY: Small Spaces, Big Feelings

A/N: This was a request for a bit of clean-smut action, both perspectives, and a few other great details that I got a few weeks ago over DM! Thanks again requesting and I hope you like it!

Winnie

Warnings: making out, light pre-smut-- not much to say beyond that, really.

Words: 4K

READER'S POV

I have no idea how we ended up here.

One second everything is going as planned: Steve and Nat are upstairs—we know they're doing fine sneaking around the Hydra base because we haven't heard otherwise. Then it all goes to shit: the sirens start blaring, boots go thundering across the ceiling of the garage where me and Sargent Barnes are waiting in hiding, and before I can think twice about it: I'm grabbing Barnes by the hand and tugging him out of the line of sight of the Hydra agents who go barreling past—storming into the building.

"What happened?" Bucky hisses into his mic. He looks down at where I hold his hand with a quirked eyebrow. Quickly I let go of his hand while still keeping close to where he's crouched in the shadow of a big truck.

"We're good. Got out," Nat answers in a normal speaking tone. "Idiot Rogers tripped an alarm, though."

"It was an accident!" Steve whines.

Barnes looks at me with "let's get out of here" in his eyes. I nod, making to stand, before hearing strange voices speaking German a few feet away. I gasp and drop back down to my knees as Barnes yanks on my hand and sends me to the cement. Out of instinct (and maybe because he knows I have a large mouth after working with me for so many months now) his metal hand comes around to block any noises from leaving my lips.

We wait impatiently, like statues, as the Hydra agents pass. Only when they're gone does Barnes release me once more. That's when he pops up from the ground and jogs to where the big garage doors were just opened a few minutes before...

Now: the metal barricade has fallen shut and is securely locked.

"Shit," Barnes curses lowly. He rushes to the door and lays his hand gently on it—feeling for weaknesses.

"What's going on?" Nat's voice is on the line.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "For lack of better terms, we're screwed."

With the sirens still blaring my head is beginning to throb. Barnes looks over his shoulder at me. "They're too solid to break through. I could hotwire one of the trucks, but it wouldn't do us any good."

"I'm not going upstairs," I say. I'm an agent, but I'm not trained in combat—only intellectual affairs. The only reason I'm on this mission is to help Nat and Steve, Black Widow and Captain America, identify the right atomic device they were stealing from the laboratory up there.

Sargent Barnes grits his teeth. He nods—he knows I can't hold myself in a fight, and there's no way he could protect both of us against the three hundred Hydra operatives. Then, as he comes to the same conclusion that I have, he realizes that our best bet is going to be to hide until the doors open once more. "Where was that closet? The one you were sending messages from?"

"Forget the closet." I jog over to one of the cars that sits idly in the back of the garage. Barnes follows me. "The closet is always the first place people check in the movies. No one ever checks the trunk of the car." I drop to my knees and start fiddling with the lock with one of the bobby pins from my hair. I point at the car beside the one I'm knelt at. "Hurry—you take that one."