Who Am I? » [Stucky]

145. Reckless Punk

“You’re such a reckless punk,” Bucky scolded with a whimper as Steve emerged; throwing his arms around Steve’s heaving chest and clinging tight like a koala – having felt the doubtful flutter in his heart that Steve might not emerge from the collapsing cavern.

“And you’re a molly-coddling jerk,” Steve retorted – panting. He buried his dust smeared face in the crook of Bucky’s palpitating neck, feeling the emancipating relief of his partner’s heated velvety skin against his cheek. He felt safe, Bucky’s arms surrounding him like the unbreakable walls of a reinforced citadel; concealed from all harm and danger. It was like they were kids again; when Steve used to return home black and blue like a bruised peach and slashed like a cat’s claw toy and Bucky used to cradle him close and whisper sweet nothings as he reassured him no more harm could come to him.

“And we’re not safe yet,” Sam reminded them; hearing the groan the rocks gave as they were forced to take the volume of the lake bed; water pouring in like a gushing tap.

“You two have plenty time for cuddling when they fly us outta here,” Clint reminded them. “Now hurry your sorry asses before we all end up like drowned rats – and smell like them too.” Clint gave an involuntary shudder of repulse.

“I’m glad we’ve practiced running,” Bucky whispered to Steve, breaking apart.

Bucky and Steve’s hands stayed tightly linked as the team raced through the murky sewers, receiving barked directions from Coulson and Bruce – with a small amount of meek input from Leo – as they rushed to exit the sewer before the floodgates of the rocks were breached and they were laid to waste by the avalanche of cascading water that was about to sweep them clean off their feet.

“I see the light, up ahead!” Bucky called, recognising the slight change in dynamics a mile off – having been cooped up in pitch black conditions for an hour.

Then came the rumble, the cracking of rocks and an oncoming hiss.

“Fuck!” Tony cried. “Someone grab on!” He felt Skye throw herself on him and he swooped her down the tunnel and out the tiny gap, transporting her onto the pavement.

The rest were dashing as fast as they could, feet kicking up shit-broth water onto the others as they splashed through, making rippling it like the ocean. The roar of water – like that of the sound you hear when you put a conch shell to your ear – was approaching, the sewage around their ankles ebbing and flowing as it was disturbed by the upheaval of water pouring in.

They made the ladder.

“Up, all of you!” Steve demanded, standing aside and gripping on for dear life.

May and Natasha were up first, on insistence of the men, followed by Sam, Clint and Trip. Water emerged around a corner, just visible at the bottom of the black tube.

“Up!” Steve demanded, slapping Bucky on the arse and coaxing him up the ladder with a yelp, not spending the time disagreeing in the tunnel like an idiot. Steve was hot on his heels, the water just scraping his feet as he hauled himself up. A funnel of water that resembled a geyser sprayed up as the wave whooshed past, sending the team scattering in horror as the putrid water erupted like a volcano; throwing up debris into the air.

They all managed to avoid the splatter zone as it rained back down and heard the burning growl of engines as the invisible Quinjet descended.

“In!” Coulson shouted as the invisible bay door lowered to reveal the interior. He beckoned, shouting commands over the rushing of wind.

The team dashed over, reassembling before the authorities were onto them and someone suspected something illegal and odd was afoot.

The door was quickly hatched shut and they zipped off in an instant.