Who Am I? » [Stucky]

101. The Russian

Tony and Bruce frivolously tapped at the touch screen, trying to regain contact, but it was no use; the wavelength was scrambled. They had lost contact. They couldn’t do anything to defend them either for such a long distance.

~

“We’ve lost them…” Bucky murmured his eyes wide and manic. He sat there suspended in paralysing fear, his lips parted, sucking in quivering breaths. “We need to move fast… They know where we are,” Bucky whispered.

He picked up the radio and slammed it to the floor with his metal arm, shattering the device. It exploded into fractions and clattered to the ground in a tangled tattered heap. Wires spilled from the device, the speakers were cracked open and small portions of machinery had spread out across the room, flecks of debris as a remainder.

“We need to leave now. That’s probably what Stark wanted to tell us. We can’t stay here, not in this house. Not in this town. Not in this state…” Bucky was rushing around the home, picking up every last weapon and arming himself to the teeth.

His rifle was hung across his back at a slanted angle, the barrel thumping into his muscular shaped thighs and pert butt a he stormed about. A pistol was stuffed down the back of his tight skinny jeans, bulging just above his arse in a defining silhouette of the gun. He had a submachine on his hip, swinging about in a loose holster attached to his belt. His knife was still strapped tightly to his thigh.

Steve followed about with the same urgency, taking any weapons off Bucky that he could carry to assist him. The pair practically jangled as they walked, the shells stored in their duffle back clinking about in their boxes and the metal guns rattling as they clashed into one another and shook as they walked.

“You can bet anything they’ll already be on their way,” Bucky told him in a breathless voice, tugging Steve by the hand and leading him to the motorbike. He frisbee’d Steve the shield in the sack and Steve slotted it onto his back. “Right…” Bucky shut his eyes, visualising the house. “Have we got everything? The guns? Your shield, some of the food supplies, we don’t when we’ll be able to stop for food again…” Bucky explained, fearful dismay painted across his face. He rubbed his hand back and forth across his lips.

Steve paced closer, slotted his fingers between Bucky’s and shook Bucky and his’ crookedly intertwined hands until his eyes snapped open. Bucky’s eyes were brimming with tears, his eyelids like a dam about to overflow. “It’s going to be alright okay? We’re going to get out of here, we’re going to be fine. We’re going to survive, hide somewhere new and eventually get back to the avengers.” Steve used the silkiest and sleekest tone possible, his voice oozing from his lips smoothly. He gave Bucky a searing kiss, their lips mingling delicately in one final moment of peacefulness before the oncoming storm rolled it.

“Thank you…” Bucky whispered, cupping Steve’s cheek and biting his lip worriedly.

“Do you want to drive, or shall I? Whoever’s on the back should get the shield though, that should just be protocol; they need the extra protection,” Steve explained.

“Uh… I’d be more comfortable if I drove, but you driving is good too… I trust you with my life…” Bucky assured him.

The pair of them settled on the saddle, Bucky at the handlebars, Steve pressed up against him; his chest to his back. Steve’s hands slipped around Bucky’s waist in an elegant serpentine manner, twisting and looping around him like a boar constrictor; just as viscidly.

“Where do you intend to go?” Steve asked in all seriousness. “Any further north is freezing, and is just an abandoned wasteland… A frozen plateau; if HYDRA won’t kill us, the cold will… It’s Quebec or the New Brunswick peninsula…” Steve reminded him, trying his best to picture a map of the states in his head. “Do we go east?”