Apparently, searching for the Winter Soldier means moving to New York and hell no is Sam Wilson moving to Brooklyn.
"Nah, man," he explained. "I love you like whoa, but hell no. Harlem or bust."
Steve didn’t get it, but whatever. He offered to let Sam have his floor in Stark’s godawful tower, but again: hell to the no.
"I know people in Harlem," he explained further.
He should have known that sentence would put a cloud over Steve, but at least the argument held water for him. That was what Brooklyn was about, anyway. He was going to where he used to have people.
So Sam moved back to Harlem.
At three AM on a Thursday night, the buzzer for the front door of his apartment went off.
"If you’re here to kill me, come back in at least five hours," he told whoever it was through the intercom.
"Sorry, Sam," came Natasha’s voice. "We need a place to lie low."
Fucking whatever. He buzzed her up.
She had a different buff, blonde superhero with her this time. He introduced himself as Clint and shook Sam’s hand. Then he winced and shook out his hand which Sam could now see was turning no-good-very-bad colors.
Natasha shrugged. “You should see the other guy,” she said.
"Other guys,” Clint corrected. “So many other guys. At least twenty.”
Sam raised an eyebrow.
"Fifty," Clint continued. "Probably fifty."
Sam repeated internally: fucking whatever.
"I left my straightener in DC," he told Natasha. "Bad for your hair anyway."
"Please," she scoffed. "Straight hair is so last year."
Two months later, Clint showed up with Bruce Banner. A lot of people in Harlem knew about Bruce Banner.
Sam put on the Enya CD he always told people he only had because an ex left it in his apartment. (This was a lie.)
Clint gave him a look.
"Look, Harlem thanks the dude for stopping the other dinosaur dude and everything," Sam explained. "But he is not allowed to break my apartment. I don’t have the funds to build a new one from scratch."
Bruce looked…not green, not in the bad way, but green like sea-sick sort of green. Like a hangover or something. His head was lolling and Clint was basically holding him upright.
Bruce Banner showed up in the daylight hours two days later with Tony Stark. Tony made fun of Sam’s CD collection. Bruce Banner fixed his leaky shower.
Sam thought to himself, OK, this is my life now.
Tony had to help with the shower. It went off and soaked them both and they left wearing all of Sam’s clean jogging clothes.
Steve came by with the Winter Soldier—“he’s Bucky"—in the middle of the night a couple weeks later.
Sam kept the place stocked with first aid kits and poptarts these days.
About an hour after they arrived, Natasha and Thor arrived. Then ten minutes later, Clint and Tony. Then Bruce.
"Everybody gets poptarts and beer," Sam announced as he ushered Bruce in. "It’s all I have on hand."
The Winter Soldier—Bucky—looked so fucking stunned at the suggestion that Sam made a bag of microwave popcorn just to fill the sudden depth of “feed this boy” feelings that had swelled up. It was something he inherited from his mom, no doubt. She was always feeding people who looked like that.
Yeah. This was his life now.
There were superheroes having a slumber party in his living room.
the color of dark rust, or dried blood (1556 words) by tartanfics
Fandom: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: James “Bucky” Barnes, Steve Rogers
Additional Tags: Captain America: The Winter Soldier Spoilers, Memory Loss
The ice turns to water, and water causes iron to rust.
The Winter Soldier is rusting.
So yeah I wrote Captain America fic.
okay but can you imagine like
a week after your truck gets stolen out of the goddamn mall parking lot, you get a knock on the door and there’s fucking Captain America standing there. Says he’s here about your goddamn truck. And for a moment you wonder if he started working for the police now that Shield took a dive, but you don’t say so, you just nod when he describes your truck to you, license plate number, make, model and color, all to a tee.
And then the weirdest thing happens (weirder than Captain America just showing up at your front door). Captain America starts looking bashful. And then he tells you your truck was lost ‘in the line of duty’. You must still look a little awestruck because he elaborates; he’s the one who took your truck.
Captain America fucking stole your goddamn truck out of the goddamn mall parking lot.
And he’s going to pay for a new one. And he’s very, very sorry.