Who Am I? » [Stucky]

96. On The Run

Bucky slipped his arms through the leather loops strapped to the shield and displayed it proudly on his back. He then threw a balanced leg over the bike and lowered himself down onto the saddle with poise and focus, his eyes scanning all of the complex circular dials imbedded in the limited dashboard.

“Put your arms around my waist, babe, and hold on tight… We’re in for a long journey…” Bucky murmured in a breathless voice, twizzling the jangling collection of keys around his index finger before slotting one into the ignition.

Steve’s arms shot around Bucky’s skinny and bony slimming waist, the concussed cloudiness that had descended on his fuzzed brain finally defogging. The engine vroomed to life, emitting a sexy reverberate roar. Bucky whistle at the beautiful tamed beast now residing in his hands. “She’s a racy one, for sure,” Bucky hooted appreciatively. The dials glowed brightly, the circular caps glowing red, along with the tickers in the dial.

Bucky kicked out the silver bike stand with a violent shove of his foot and pushed away from the pavement. He gave the accelerator a firm twist, notching it up into a high speed and with a bit of wheel spin he swerved away in the opposite direction from Sharon. He filled the enclosed unobserved streets with smog and choking car fumes, leaving a swelling cloud of blackened emissions behind him, and a trail of splattered mud.

They bombed down terrifyingly tight alleys, taking screeching turns, lurching about as they skidded around. They followed the sharp bends to the open road and followed the freeway. The traversed along with the cars, squeezing in tight gaps between them, bordering the speed limit.

Bucky headed north, supposing that Sharon would carry on leading them south, and draw them that way. Perhaps HYDRA’s manhunt would explore the southern regions, trying to seek them out where they weren’t. He just needed attention diverted from them, he needed to be free from the city. They needed to leave the state far behind. They needed to leave behind the CCTV, the mobile phone signal and their identities.

The feed in Stark Tower bleeped as Steve and Bucky erupted into the open, their faces displayed on national security cameras.

“Sir, I’ve tracked down Mr Barnes, and he appears to be with Captain Rogers,” JARVIS helpfully informed Tony.

Tony and Bruce both immediately raised their heads from their tinkering in the workshop simultaneously, their eyebrows meeting with their hairlines and their eyes fixing onto the unclear CCTV feed. The zipped over at light speed, and crowded around the monitor, pressed shoulder to shoulder, staring with amazement.

A camera focused in on Steve’s face: bruised like a peach and scratched as if he had been wrestling with a tiger; a tiger who had attempted to claw his face off.

“Something’s wrong…” Tony muttered to Bruce, exchanging a worried glance with Bruce. “They’re heading out of New York… Not to mention those bruises.”

Steve’s phone rung in his pocket, jiggling against his hips as the vibrations spread across his skin. He pulled out the device, still clinging to Bucky with one tenacious arm, the wind violently tousling him.

“Hello?” Steve asked, clutching the phone to his ear with a sweaty shaking hand.

“Rogers, I’m endlessly relieved that you’ve found Bucky, but where in the name of Stark are you going?” He grumbled, his brow creased with concern and his eyes narrowed at the display before him. Bruce was staring at him with anticipation, waiting for the conversation to be relayed to him.

“Steve, you need to ditch the phone,” Bucky told him strictly, shooting him a glance of brevity over his shoulder.

“I will, give me a moment,” Steve promised, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s shoulder blade. “Tony, I don’t have much time. We’re on the run. Hydra is on our tail, Sharon Carter is in danger, she’s drawing the attention from us and travelling south. Do me a favour and make sure she doesn’t come to any harm?” Steve spoke fast, his words strung together at a million miles per hour, slightly overwhelmed by the whooshing of air attacking him like a tornado.