epiphany. (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Chapter Twenty Six

"Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten."

~*~*~*~

The Avengers' Quinjet. Somewhere Over Russia. May 2016.

The New Avengers' Quinjet resembled the old Quinjet. Clint told you that Bruce as the Hulk had taken the old jet after the Ultron Offensive and disappeared. No one had heard from him since then or Thor, for that matter. The only difference between the two jets were the labels on the lockers: Rogers, Romanoff, Maximoff, Wilson, Rhodes, and Vision. Bucky sat on the table in the middle of the jet. Steve stood in the cockpit, firing up the engines. The jet shook slightly as it lifted off the ground, leaving Tony and Siberia behind.

You weren't sure how Tony would get back to civilization. But, something told you he would survive. You understood Tony's anger towards Bucky and Steve. He felt betrayed and was well within his right to feel that way. His unwillingness to listen to an explanation was reasonable too, but the fact that his immediate reaction to resort to violence was not.

You sat down the go-bags, stripping off your Tactical Jacket. Despite the frigid temperature outside, you were covered in a thin layer of sticky sweat. Walking over to Bucky, you noticed his thumb and forefinger circled one another as he stared off into space. You gently took his hand and squeezed it. He pulled his gaze away from the wall to your face. "Hey, Sarge."

"Hey, doll," he replied, giving you a small smile.

You pushed the hair out of his face and inspected the damage Tony had inflicted. "You look pretty beat up," you said playfully. "I can help you if you want me too."

Bucky chuckled at the reference to the first time you met. He nodded, "Yes, ma'am."

You reached into the drawers under the table, pulling out the antiseptic wash, gauze, and a suture kit just in case. Standing between Bucky's knees, you carefully cleaned the blood from his wounds. His eyes followed your movements and took in your appearance. His fingertips grazed the cut on your lip. They brushed the bruises on your face and arms and the small burn on your chest from the taser disk. His hand found your hip and traced circles there with his thumb. The warmth of his touch comforted you. His presence and touch had always been a balm for your nerves. Once clean, you inspected his wounds, "Well, despite getting kicked in the head by Iron Man, you don't need any stitches." Bucky chuckled as you gently spread antibiotic ointment on some of his worst cuts.

Steve stepped down into the main cabin from the cockpit. "I put the jet in stealth mode and set the autopilot," he said, removing his helmet and gloves. He placed them in his locker.

"Where are we headed?" you asked. You helped Bucky remove his jacket. He had been hit with some arc repulsor blasts, and you wanted to make sure he didn't have any burns. The one Sam had received earlier in the day looked painful. You lifted his shirt and began inspecting his torso. Thankfully, his jacket seemed to have taken the brunt of the blasts. You made a mental note to thank Natasha if you ever saw her again.

"That's what I wanted to ask the both of you," he said, moving to stand next to you and Bucky.

Bucky eyed him curiously. You turned to Steve, noticing the cuts and dried blood crusted on his face. You frowned. "Sit down, Specimen," you said, gesturing to a nearby stool. "Lemme take a look at those cuts."

"Oh no, sweetheart, that's okay," Steve said, shaking his head, "I'm fine."

You gave him an impatient look crossing your arms across your chest and tapped your foot.