Archive of Our Own ^beta

one.

Running into Sam and Bucky in Madripoor is a surprise. 

It’s not that Sharon is unhappy to see them, necessarily – far be it from her to turn down a friendly reunion between coworkers and/or super soldiers who once tried to kill her. But it’s not like “saving Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes’ sorry asses” was exactly on her to-do list for the night, either.

Despite that, Sharon does the polite thing and allows them to crash at her place. She even lets them look through the closet for a change of clothes, an idea she realizes has its perks when she walks past Sam just as he’s lifting his shirt over his head to reveal an expanse of toned muscle.

“Much better,” Sharon quips, and she’s just shameless enough to stop and give him a once-over while she’s at it.

Sam just shoots her an unimpressed look as he tugs a black turtleneck over his head.

Bucky, on the other hand, is already sitting on the couch, his back to Sam. As Sharon crosses to the other end of the couch opposite Bucky, she expects to find him twiddling his thumbs, or maybe even scrolling through that piece of junk flip phone Sharon can’t imagine he actually knows how to use.

Instead, Bucky stares dead ahead, expressionless, hands clasped in his lap, as Sam changes pants right behind him.

At first, Sharon figures it’s Bucky’s way of being polite; then, she wonders if Bucky’s averted gaze is really just some sort of white, heterosexual male bullshit. It’s not until she settles on the opposite end of the couch, just a few inches away from Bucky, that she notices the set of his shoulders: rigid, but not in the vigilant sort of sense – more tight and awkward than anything else.

And if that wasn’t a dead giveaway, well, the telltale, scarlet flush spread across Bucky’s face as he averts his gaze from Sam’s half-naked body certainly would be. 

There’s a brief moment where she considers saying something. Nothing too incredibly revealing, obviously — she’s not so cruel that she would give away Bucky’s little crush. Just something to let him know she knows, some offhand snide comment that would make Bucky Barnes, former war hero and formidable assassin, squirm. 

In the end, Sharon decides against it. The last thing she wants to do tonight is get involved with the drama that comes with feelings between coworkers, especially not when she can still use Sam and Bucky’s help. No, tension like that always ends up messy. If anyone is going to deal with all of that, then let it be Zemo; Sharon has far better things to do. 

But if Sharon feels a little perverse sense of satisfaction at watching the blush on Bucky’s face darken in response to her Mr. America comment — well, that’s her business.

two.

It’s no surprise that Sam manages to pull off the Captain America suit so well. 

Because despite Sharon’s feelings of disillusionment towards the shield nowadays, Sam was always the best choice to take on the mantle. There’s no one better suited to be standing in front of all those people and cameras right now, demanding the country to do better , emblazoned in red, white, and blue.

And anyway — Sharon’s pretty sure Sam Wilson could pull off wearing a plastic garbage bag. 

So when she tells Sam, “For what it’s worth, the suit looks good on you,” she’s being cheeky, but she also genuinely means it. 

“Okay, can we go now, please?” Bucky cuts in, and Sharon doesn’t have to look at him to hear the irritation in his voice.

Still, she lets him usher her towards the car, but doesn’t miss the way he glances over his shoulder, so Sharon follows his gaze to watch Sam turn and walk the opposite direction, and wouldn’t you know, the suit also does wonders for Sam’s –

“Seriously?” Bucky demands, and Sharon turns to see him leveling her with an unimpressed look.

“Like you weren’t staring at his ass, too,” she says, and it’s almost funny, the way Bucky blanches. 

“I wasn’t staring at anything,” he mutters as he climbs into the driver’s seat, but Sharon doesn’t miss the way his grip tightens around the steering wheel.

“Relax,” Sharon says as she slides into the passenger seat.  with an eye-roll. “I won’t tell anyone about your little crush.”

It’s several long seconds before Bucky responds, and when he does, it’s just to say, voice tight, “I think all that blood loss is going to your head.”

Sharon just laughs and shakes her head. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Barnes.”

three.

It’s not long after her pardon is cleared that Sharon finds herself going on missions again.

In truth, she doesn’t mind the work much. Most of it is pretty standard – infiltrating old HYDRA bases, hacking into Russian servers, going undercover here and there, obtaining flash drives or important document files or anything else the U.S. government wants their hands on. 

And if, on these missions, Sharon takes a peek at these flash drives and document files before handing them over to government officials, well. No one else needs to know.

Sharon gets to do most of her mission work alone, which is preferable. But every now and then, an occasion arises when she needs back-up, and when she gets suspicious reports on the pop-up fortune telling bar that’s become a sudden hit amongst New Yorkers, she luckily knows just who to call.

“It may all be nothing,” Sharon explains to Sam and Bucky, who are sitting in her living room for the pre-mission brief, flipping through the case file she handed them upon arrival. “But there have been enough suspicious reports of this place that it’s at least cause for concern.”

“So…it’s a bar?” Bucky asks, confused. “Or a fortune-telling shop?”

“Both.”

“New Yorkers,” Sam mutters disdainfully.

“On the surface level, it all seems pretty run of the mill,” Sharon says. “People visit the bar, grab a drink, then head to Madame Calypso to get their fortunes read. Only after these people get home, their friends and family start noticing some weird behavior. They start making rash decisions, doing things that don’t make sense, saying and doing things that are just…off.”

“Define ‘off,’” Sam says.

“Last week, a man got home from the bar and emptied out his bank account the next day,” Sharon says. “Two weeks ago, someone sold their house and everything in it just a few hours after leaving Madame Calypso. When his friend asked him what was up the next day, all he said was that Madame Calypso read his fortune and told him the key to his happiness was giving up Earthly possessions.”

Sam lifts his eyebrows. “So, what, you need us to go undercover, chat up the bartenders and patrons, and figure out what’s going on with this lady?”

“No,” Sharon says. “I need Barnes to go undercover and figure out what’s going on.”

Bucky blinks. “Me?” He asks, at the same time as Sam says, “Why him?”

“Because, if something goes wrong, then I need Barnes on the inside,” Sharon explains. “He can handle his own in hand-to-hand combat, if it comes to that. Sam, since last I checked, you’re the only one of us with wings, I need you with me on stakeout duty so that if something does go wrong, you can drop in on the bar the second Barnes gives the signal.”

Sam frowns, and though he doesn’t say anything else, Sharon can practically see all the protests he’s holding back.

“And also, selfishly,” Sharon adds, “I didn’t want to be stuck in the car with Barnes on a stakeout for several hours.”

“I’m right here, you know,” Bucky says, deadpan.

Sharon just smiles blasély at him.

“It just feels like the whole undercover, chatting people up thing is more my style,” Sam says finally. “I mean, I’m probably the only extrovert in this room right now. And you know Mr. Cyborg over here isn’t the biggest fan of crowds,” he says, gesturing over to Bucky.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Bucky says blandly.

Sam sighs. “I’m not saying I don’t think you can do it; that’s not it. I just meant – after Madripoor, and everything – ” he begins, and then cuts himself off with a quick glance at Sharon, and even though this is her apartment and her pre-mission brief, for a moment, it almost feels like she’s the one intruding here.

“I just don’t want you to feel like you’re being put in another position where you have to pretend to be someone you’re someone you’re not,” Sam finishes finally.

The irritated expression on Bucky’s face instantly fades away at that, replaced by a cross between exasperation, fondness, and some kind of tender look Sharon doesn’t recognize. It’s surprising to see it all written across Bucky’s face so clearly; Sharon wasn’t sure Bucky was actually capable of expressing more than one emotion at once.

“Sam, c’mon, hey,” Bucky says. “This is all pretty much part of the job description. You don’t gotta worry about me, okay? If I was uncomfortable, I’d say so. I’ve got this. Alright?” 

Sam stares back at him, an unreadable expression on his face, before he finally sighs, gives in. “Alright.”

“You’re gonna be fine,” Sharon adds, half to be reassuring, half as an excuse to disrupt the weird tension going on in the middle of her living room. “Just be careful, alright? We don’t really know what we’re dealing with here, but there’s a possibility we might be dealing with one of the big three.”

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky says. “You too?” 

Sam smirks. “Told you it was a thing.”

Bucky just groans.

As it turns out, Bucky wasn’t lying. He is fine. In fact — he’s better than fine.

Maybe Sharon shouldn’t really be surprised. She’d heard the stories and she read the textbooks; she knew Bucky Barnes was supposed to be some sort of charmer back in the 1940s. But that was several decades of brainwashing ago, and Sharon had naturally assumed that Bucky was long gone.

And yet, from what Sharon can tell by listening through the comms, Bucky is charming the hell out of one of the patrons at the bar right now.

“You come here often?” Bucky says over the comms. Sharon and Sam are parked in a nondescript black car in an alley a few feet away from the bar, where they dropped Bucky in his disguise off an hour ago. It’s been slow-going, so far – Bucky hasn’t done much aside from order a drink and mutter some information over the comms about the layout of the bar and where he thinks Madame Calypso’s fortune-teller room might be.

This is the first time Bucky’s actually attempted to seek out some information, and of course he used the most cliché line of all the time, and it absolutely should not work, on anyone, but —

“ First time ,” the patron replies, and Sharon can practically hear the way she bats her eyes and twirls her hair. “ But with this kind of company, I might be persuaded to come by more often. ”

“He’s good,” Sharon says, begrudgingly impressed.

“He’s spending more time flirting with the patrons than he is obtaining information,” Sam mutters back.

Sharon bites back a laugh as she hears Bucky politely excuse himself, likely to find another patron or bartender that might actually know something about Madame Calypso. She’s not surprised by Sam’s bitter tone, exactly; even she’s picked up on the fact that though he’s seemingly a total catch, Sam has always appeared to be single. She assumed Sam was one of those “married to the job” types, that he was single by choice, but hearing the tightness in Sam’s voice, Sharon wonders if that might not be the case.

So, with a smirk, she glances over at Sam and tsks , “Can’t believe I’m saying this, Sam, but the jealousy act isn’t so flattering a look on you.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Jealous? C’mon. I’m not that desperate for his attention. If anything, it’s a relief to get a break. You have any idea how unsettling it is being at the end of that creepy stare he’s got?”

And —

“Huh,” Sharon says, more to herself than anything else. “Interesting.” 

Sam glances over. “What?”

“Nothing,” Sharon says, too quickly. Then, “Just — you know I was talking about you being jealous of Bucky, not the girl. Right?”

“Right,” Sam says after a moment. “That’s what I meant.”

But it’s not what he said, and just as Sharon is about to say so herself, she hears the bartender Bucky’s in the middle of talking to say to Bucky, “ – I could introduce you to Madame Calypso, if you wanted – ” and so Sharon quickly pushes the comment from her mind to focus in on the mission.

As it all turns out, Madame Calypso is, in fact, one of the big three – that is, if wizards can be female, too. Would that be a witch, instead? Honestly, Sharon isn’t sure. She’ll have to ask Sam if the big three needs to be updated to be more gender inclusive.

Anyway, it turns out Madame Calypso has been using her pop-up fortune telling bar as a way to lure in the city’s richest CEOs and business leaders. The “fortunes” she was reading were really just spells she was casting that were actually startlingly similar to hypnotism, managing to convince them to do things like sell their homes, empty their bank accounts, withdraw their stocks, and resign from their jobs. Madame Calypso was trying to rid the city’s 1% of their wealth, one person at a time.

“Puts a whole new meaning to ‘eating the rich,’ huh?” Sharon says to Sam, who snorts.

The entire bar has been cleared, Madame Calypso has been taken into custody, and she, Sam, and Bucky have stuck around to give their statements to the authorities. Bucky is talking to them now, a few feet away, as Sam and Sharon watch from afar, leaning against their stake-out car. 

“It’s not a bad idea, honestly,” Sharon continues. “Or it wouldn’t be, if it wasn’t illegal.”

“She was trying to make a difference,” Sam says. “Not sure if I’d classify that as ‘illegal.’”

“Ethically questionable, then,” Sharon amends, and Sam makes a non-committal sound from next to her. “Regardless, she’s definitely on her way to jail.” And when Sam doesn’t reply to that at all, she adds, “Then again, maybe not. I’ve got a few ins with the judicial system, you know. Might be able to sway a judge one way or the other, especially if, let’s say, I had a big name celebrity superhero to back me up. Anything Captain America would be interested in, you think?”

Sam just shakes his head, but says, “He might be. Got a busy schedule though, you know.”

“Oh, of course.”

Sam just snorts again.

“Hey,” Bucky says, suddenly bounding up to the two of them. He’s removed the photostatic veil from his face and prosthetic, and now the only part of his disguise is the black jeans and leather jacket he wore to the bar, which looks remarkably like the attire Bucky normally wears, anyway.

“Hey,” Sharon says. “Everything go okay?”

“Yeah, the cops are clearing out now. Think they had a hard time wrapping their minds around the whole ‘hypnotism spell’ thing, but, you know.”

“Yeah, well, same here,” Sharon says with an eyeroll. “You did good though, Barnes. Thanks for helping out.”

Bucky blinks, as though surprised by the compliment, which is fair enough – Sharon isn’t really the complimentary type, and she and Bucky have more of an antagonistic relationship than anything else. “Thanks,” he says anyway, and then glances quickly at Sam, almost expectant.

Sam clears his throat. “Yeah, you were great in there,” he says, and gives an awkward laugh. “Maybe undercover is your forte after all, Buck.”

Bucky smiles, small, in response to the praise, and Sam glances away, but not before Sharon sees the nearly identical smile on Sam’s face, too, and –

Oh, Sharon thinks. Because she’d always just assumed that Bucky’s little schoolboy crush was one-sided. It just made sense – that Bucky with his Golden Retriever level of loyalty and devotion would be drawn to Sam, who can be stubborn and reckless at times, but is also funny, charismatic, and when it all comes down to it, just a good man. Sharon’s sure just about anyone could fall in love with him; she’d probably be halfway there herself if she didn’t have better things to do.

But she’d never once considered the alternative – that Sam could have feelings for Bucky, too. Even when Sam always made sure to check in and ask Bucky if he was okay, even when Sam had shown such protective concern on Bucky’s behalf during the pre-mission brief, Sharon had assumed it was all just Sam trying to look out for his partner. It’s only now, in the aftermath of Sam’s jealousy comment earlier and the secret smile across his face, that she realizes how obvious Sam’s own feelings have been this entire time.

She should pull Sam aside later and tell him, probably. She and him are almost close, maybe but not quite friends, and it’d be the right thing to do. Bucky’s melodramatic, pining ass is certainly never going to make the first move, and Sam is one of those annoying people who worries too much about helping others to remember that he deserves nice things for himself, too. She wouldn’t have to make a big thing of it, either – just drop Sam a hint that he’s not as subtle as he thinks he is, and that maybe, just possibly, Bucky could feel the same way.

But the thing is: Sharon is tired. She’s spent the last three hours in a cramped car, and she hasn’t eaten in hours, hasn’t even had a good night of sleep in weeks. She has better things to do than get involved in anyone else’s love life, especially when it’s two people who are too emotionally constipated to even admit their feelings to themselves.

And besides, maybe she should give Sam and Bucky some credit. They’re not completely incompetent, after all. They should at least be able to figure some things out without Sharon’s interference.

Probably.

four.

Admittedly, Sharon isn’t much of a team player these days. She was one, once, and then she found out her so-called team was actually a front for a Nazi organization, and, well. She usually prefers working alone, now.

So when Sam starts building up a new team of Avengers and extends Sharon an invite to join, she turns him down. He doesn’t need her, not really, and at the end of the day, the whole superhero shtick really isn’t her vibe. Sure, it seems exciting, but Sharon knows for a fact the pay is typically abysmal.

But Sharon rejecting his offer doesn’t prevent Sam from inviting her down to the compound when she’s in town. He doesn’t ask often; Sharon spends most of her time in D.C., so she’s rarely in the city in the first place, and when she is, it’s usually for work, meaning she doesn’t have a lot of recreational time to play nice with Earth Mightiest Heroes. But Sam still asks often enough that Sharon feels bad saying no, so when she has to make a trip to New York to give Sam some paperwork from their last mission debrief and Sam suggests she stop by the compound to drop it off, well. She figures a quick drop-in wouldn’t hurt anyone.

“You know, I didn’t think you’d actually show up,” Sam says, glancing over the paperwork. They’re standing in the foyer of the compound, and though Sharon knows this entire building got rebuilt after the battle against Thanos’ army, it looks just as massive as it did before, with a giant chandelier hanging over their heads and large paintings taking up the expanse of the walls.

“It was on my way,” Sharon says, lifting a shoulder in a shrug.

Sam signs the bottom line of Sharon’s paperwork, passing her the folder. “You can just come right out and say you wanted to check in on your favorite Avenger, you know.”

“Hmm, but if I told you that, it’d just go straight to your head.”

Sam just laughs.

“Oh, there you are.”

Sharon looks up to see Bucky, who bounds up to the two of them, face twisting into a confused frown when he spots Sharon. “What’s Carter doing here?” He asks Sam.

“Nice to see you again, too, Barnes,” Sharon says sardonically.

“She’s just here to drop off some paperwork,” Sam explains. “But hey – you should stay for dinner.”

“Oh,” Sharon blinks. “That’s nice of you, but I should really – ”

“C’mon, I mean it,” Sam says. “I actually cooked tonight. There’s grilled burgers, Joaquin made salad – oh, and Bucky made a pie.”

“You bake? ” Sharon asks Bucky, surprised.

Bucky narrows his eyes, defensive. “It’s the twenty-first century, Sharon. Men can have all sorts of hobbies nowadays.”

Sharon rolls her eyes, then sighs. “Well. I guess if there’s pie…”

Dinner is surprisingly pleasant. It’s not a big group – Sam tells her that the rest of the Avengers don’t hang around the compound all that much, so it’s just the four of them: Sharon, Sam, Bucky, and Joaquin Torres, the new Falcon.

Sharon doesn’t know Joaquin very well, but she knows of him. He took up Sam’s old wings not long after Sam took on the shield, and based on the brief coverage she’s seen of him in the news, he’s adapted to them well. He seems nice enough, too – he laughs and pokes fun at Sam and Bucky good-naturedly, and asks Sharon questions about her work that are polite, but not invasive.

But it’s after he starts shooting her a knowing glance every time Sam and Bucky say something particularly obvious or embarrassing when Sharon finally decides she likes him.

For example: 

“This pie is really good, Buck,” Sam pipes up in the middle of dessert.

Sharon thinks that’s putting it generously — the pie is average, at best — but still Bucky grins, pleased, as if he’s just been told his pie won a blue ribbon at the state fair.

“Yeah?” Bucky says, and if Sharon didn’t know better, she’d say he sounded downright shy .

“Yeah. New recipe?”

“I just added a bit more cinnamon,” Bucky shrugs.

“Well, it tastes great,” Sam says, and Bucky’s grin widens.

Meanwhile, Sharon hides her laugh behind a napkin as Torres mimes stabbing himself with his fork.

Sam gathers the dishes once everyone is finished, and Bucky follows him into the kitchen, while Sharon sits with Torres at the dining room table and watches the two of them argue over who has to wash the dishes. 

“Are they always so…” Sharon begins, then gestures towards the kitchen, “…gross?”

“Oh, always,” Torres says easily. “Parker and I have a bet going on who we think is gonna make the first move.”

“Yeah? What’s the wager?”

“If Sam makes a move first, I owe him fifty. But if it’s Barnes, he owes me.”

“You put your money on Barnes ?”

“Are you kidding?” Torres says. “He’s so obvious about it, it’s almost sad. Every day I live in fear that he’s going to randomly blurt out all his feelings in the middle of breakfast, all because Sam laughed at his joke, or something.”

“He’s obvious, I’ll give you that,” Sharon admits as she glances back towards the kitchen, where Sam and Bucky have evidently decided to share dish-washing duty, although it looks like they’re spending more time messing around than washing dishes. It’s impossible to miss the way Bucky’s eyes crinkle when he grins at Sam, but it’s not Bucky’s expression that catches her attention; it’s Sam’s.

There’s just something about the way Sam laughs – not just right now, as he’s dodging the soap Bucky tries to flick at him, but any time Bucky’s around. Sam is someone who’s always cracking a joke, so it’s not unusual to see him like this, necessarily. But Sam has always been someone who radiates determination, or something like it; he tends to carry not just the weight of the world on his shoulders, but the burdens of the people who live in it, too, and he always tries to carry it alone.

So really, it’s not hard to miss the way that the set of Sam’s shoulders is so much looser when Bucky is around, the way he smiles more freely and laughs quicker. Even the way he’s always rising to Bucky’s bait, bickering with him or teasing him – it’s clear that Bucky is someone he feels like he can let his guard down around, someone he doesn’t have to be a hero or a symbol for or anything besides himself.

And when Sharon really thinks about it, she realizes with dawning clarity that, really, she’s never seen Sam look this relaxed with anyone else.

Huh.

“If you want, you can get in on the bet,” Torres offers suddenly. “Parker and I are thinking of recruiting the rest of the team to join in, too. Really amp up the stakes.”

Sharon tears her gaze away from Sam and Bucky and turns to Torres, lifting an eyebrow.

“Please,” she says. “Like I’d waste my money gambling on those two idiots.”

five.

The truth is, missions are rarely easy.

Sometimes things go well. Sometimes, by some miracle, it all naturally falls into place, and everything goes exactly as planned.

Most times, you just get lucky.

Other times, well…

“I’m coming down the west side,” Sharon says over comms. “No sign of any Flag smashers yet.”

“ No one on the roof, either, ” Sam replies back. “ Bucky? ”

“ East side’s all clear, too, ” Bucky responds. “ Think they’re all in the lower level? ”

“Let’s hope,” Sharon grits out. “Meet you guys at the rendezvous point in five?”

“ Got it ,” Sam says. “ Taking the back staircase now. ”

“ Is that such a good idea? ” Bucky questions, and even through the comms, Sharon can hear the strain in his voice; something like irritation, or, more likely, concern. “ We haven’t cased that area yet. ”

“ This is the only entryway from the roof, Buck, ” Sam says, and this time, Sharon knows without a doubt it’s irritation in his voice. “ Unless you want me to teleport myself down there, this is kinda my only option. ”

“ You’re the most useless bird I know, ” Bucky mutters back.

“Guys,” Sharon cuts in, patience wearing thin. “Maybe save the flirting for the post-mission brief, okay?”

The comms go abruptly silent after that.

The rendezvous point is in an alcove on the second floor of the abandoned warehouse, just above the level where, if they’re lucky, they’ll find the remaining members of the Flag smashers that were reported to be in this area. Since Sharon is on the third floor, she has two options to get to the rendezvous: the stairway, or the air duct she passed earlier. And the thing is, Bucky’s right – it had seemed unnecessary to case the stairway, and she doubts she’d find anyone in there, but the last thing she wants is to give someone the opportunity to get the drop on her in a narrow staircase where she can’t see what’s around the corner ahead of her.

So, air duct it is.

As she shimmies her way down to the second floor in the tight confines of the air duct, Sharon can’t help but lament the fact that she shouldn’t even be here in the first place. This kind of mission is more of a Cap/Falcon/Winter Soldier thing, but when Torres got a minor injury a few days ago, he had to sit this one out to give himself time to recover. Sharon, reluctantly, volunteered to fill in.

As she pushes strands of sweaty hair out of her face, she feels herself start to regret that decision.

When she finally reaches the rendezvous, she expects to find Sam and Bucky already there, awkwardly avoiding eye contact or glaring at her, as if it was her fault that their unresolved sexual tension was impacting their focus.

Instead, when she drops down from the air duct, she finds only Bucky, with a worried, pensive frown on his face.

“Did you run into Sam on your way down here?” He asks.

Sharon lifts one eyebrow, then glances up at the narrow chute behind her. “In the air duct?” She asks, deadpan. “Can’t say I did, but it’s possible I might’ve missed him.”

Bucky doesn’t laugh. “The roof isn’t that far. If he took the stairs, he should’ve gotten here before you. And he’s been quiet over the comms.”

Sharon frowns. “You haven’t heard from him at all?”

Bucky shakes his head, but doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t have to. His deep frown and the tic in his jaw gives away every question he doesn’t dare ask. 

“Hey, Sam, we’re at the rendezvous,” Sharon says into the comms. “Are you close?” And then, after a moment of silence, she repeats, “Sam?”

There’s no response. Bucky’s face starts to look ashen.

“He took the back stairwell, right?” Sharon says, keeping her voice measured. “Might be a dead zone. Comms wouldn’t pick up.”

“He’d still be here by now,” Bucky says, voice tight. “I told him not to take the stairs — ”

“Hey,” Sharon cuts in. “We don’t know that anything’s wrong, okay? There might just be some sort of hold-up, or — ”

“Or he’s in trouble,” Bucky finishes for her, and when Sharon hesitates for too long, his expression hardens. “I’m going in after him.”

“Barnes,” Sharon says.

But Bucky ignores her, already spinning on his heel and marching towards the back stairwell, leaving Sharon with no choice but to jog after him.

“Bucky. Hey, ” Sharon says, stepping in front of his path and holding a hand up.

“Get out of my way, Sharon.”

“You have no idea what you’re walking into here.”

“I said get out of my way,” Bucky grits out.

“I know you’re worried,” Sharon continues. “But if you could just take a moment , we can figure out another solution, okay? We gotta play this safe.”

“I can’t, okay?” Bucky bursts out, and Sharon takes a step back in surprise; not just at the volume of his voice, but at the sudden emotion that’s splashed across his face. “I just — ”

His voice breaks off; he stops, swallows, and then —

“I can’t lose him,” Bucky says finally, voice cracking, and Jesus Christ, Sharon thinks. Of all the times for Bucky to talk about his feelings, he had to pick now, huh?

Sharon closes her eyes, lets out a heavy sigh, and prays for strength and patience.

“Fine,” she says, eyes opening again. “Okay, fine. Just — follow my lead, alright?”

Bucky nods, quick, and Sharon sighs again, then squares her shoulders back.

And as she steps in front of Bucky and starts towards the direction of the stairwell, she vows to herself that next time she agrees to a mission with Barnes and Wilson, she’s asking the government for a goddamn raise.

+one.

Against all odds, they all make it out alive.

They do find Sam in the stairwell, alive, and attempting to fend off three Flag smashers at once. Sharon had been right about the stairs being a dead zone, too – the lack of signal meant Sam was unable to ask for back-up, and he hadn’t heard them through the comms, either.

Of course, she doesn’t find any of this out until later, after a blur of fists and weapons, when the three Flag smashers are unconscious at their feet, and SWORD has already arrived. They tell the agents these are the only Flag smashers, but they still insist on scaling their entire building, ushering Sharon, Sam, and Bucky outside, where they stand and wait for the agents to come out so they can give their statements and get their asses home.

“And you’re sure you’re okay?” Sharon asks Sam.

“I’m fine,” Sam says, raising a finger to his mouth and wincing. “Split my lip pretty bad, though.”

“You’re lucky it wasn’t worse,” Sharon says with an eye-roll.

“Oh, don’t start,” Sam sighs. “I’m never gonna hear the end of it from Bucky as it is. When he finally decides to say more than three words to me, at least.”

Sharon glances over at the man in question, who stands a few feet away from them, leaning against one of the SWORD vehicles, his arms crossed in front of his chest as he glares out into thin air. He hasn’t spoken since the end of the fight with the Flag smashers, and even then, it was only to ask Sam if he was okay. He’s kept his distance ever since, that ever-present scowl of his etched deep into the lines of his face. Sharon’s starting to wonder if Bucky’s face might freeze like that.

“Yeah, well,” Sharon says. “You know how he gets.” 

“Yeah,” Sam snorts. “He does this every time, you know.” And when Sharon lifts an eyebrow, he continues, “This whole broody, temper tantrum thing. Gets angry at me for being too reckless, too stubborn, questions my leadership abilities — ”

“Sam, come on,” Sharon interrupts, incredulous. “You don’t actually think he thinks that. I mean, the recklessness and the stubbornness are absolutely true, and you should really work on that, but your leadership abilities? You know how hard he pushed for you to get that shield back. Hell, he’s the one that got you that suit you’re wearing in the first place.”

Sam sighs, long and loud. “Yeah,” he admits. “I know.”

And the thing is — Sharon’s had enough. It was a little funny, at first, watching the two of them dance around each other. But now? It’s almost pathetic, and not in an amusing way. In a sad way. She feels a little bad for them, honestly. And she is exhausted with putting up with all this when this entire thing could be resolved if they’d just get over themselves and talk to each other.

“Look,” Sharon says, with all the patience she can muster. “You and I both know Barnes has the emotional range of a toaster oven. But I know you know he trusts you, and that he cares. He just can’t process more than one emotion at once. Hence…” She trails off, and gestures to Bucky to indicate ‘whatever the hell he’s doing right now.’

Sam glances over at her, mouth curling into a smirk. “A toaster oven, huh?”

“Sam,” Sharon says. “Look. He was really worried about you, back there.” Sam’s expression softens imperceptibly, and Sharon jerks her head over in Bucky’s direction. “Just…go talk to him.”

Sam sighs. “Alright, alright. Fine.”

And, to Sharon’s relief, he steps away from her, and begins walking towards Bucky.

She’s too far away to hear what precisely gets said, can only make out snatches of their conversation. But she’s at just the right vantage point where she can see both of their facial expressions and their individual body language, and she thinks that gives her the gist, anyway.

Bucky doesn’t acknowledge Sam right away when he comes to stand next to him, just glares straight ahead, even though there’s no way Bucky doesn’t see him. It’s Sam who speaks first, too, though Sharon sees Bucky mutter a reply shortly after. From there, predictably, an argument breaks out, and Sharon can just make out the words “stairs,” and “stubborn,” and “I told you so,” and just as Sharon is beginning to think that all hope is lost and these two are never going to figure it out, Bucky lets out some sort of outburst that makes Sam go quiet.

She doesn’t need to have heard what Bucky said to know it was some sort of confession – it’s obvious enough from the surprise on Sam’s face, and the muted look of panic on Bucky’s. Whether the confession was that Bucky had been worried, or that he couldn’t lose Sam, or something far more raw and truthful, Sharon doesn’t know, and evidently, it doesn’t matter, because Sam’s face instantly softens into the same exasperatedly fond look she’s become far too familiar with for her liking.

“You’re an idiot,” Sam says to Bucky, so loud and clear that Sharon hears it from several feet away, and then Sam steps forward and kisses him.

She doesn’t stick around to see Bucky’s reaction. It feels intrusive to oversee what is obviously a private moment, and besides, Sharon doesn’t need to watch to know how this will end.

Instead, she turns away to find a SWORD agent to give her official statement so that she can go home and take a long, hot shower. 

And, hopefully, give Torres a call and let him know that he owes Peter Parker fifty bucks.