Into the Jaws of Death

A/N a short 'inter-scene' between Cap convincing the Commandos to become the Commandos and that sweet little conversation between Steve and Bucky in the English bar until Agent Carter enters and disregards Bucky completely. Quotes from the film TOTALLY Marvel property.

The bar was a mix of harsh smoke from tobacco rations being inhaled and cheap perfume. Yeasty aroma of beer was downplayed now that the war made that a rare commodity but the easier distilled cheap whiskeys flowed unabated adding their sharp unrefined tang to the air. Through the thick atmosphere the lights were dim and yellowed as if time had aged the very air they sat in. Voices were low with the vibration of stress that only war and eminent death can create, like a verbal paranoia. Sometimes there was a nervous giggle here or an embarrassed chuckle there but mostly people crouched in mixed company over their drinks trying to grasp a shard of their prewar existence. Only the drunkest people dared to dance to the Victrola radio in the corner that served when the small Irish band stopped playing for their pay in liquor.

James sat alone, in his disheveled uniform, sipping his whiskey since no good American bourbon was available. Steve was in the next room convincing the other Azzano POW's from the 107th to become the Howling Commandos.

His exhausted eyes wandered over the room as the swirl of sounds and smells washed around him as if he were a rock in ocean surf. The cruel straps that Zola put on him still bit into his skin. The needles and prodding rippled over his body making him want to scream, but he didn't dare move. It was abundantly clear that Chester wanted him quarantined and it was a miracle that Steve had talked him out of it.

Pressing the cool glass to his lips to distract himself, he drank the fire-inducing whiskey, rankling his nose at how bad it was. It was doing its job though, making him slightly numb. What happened to him back there in Azzano? Bucky had to admit, even he had no idea what Hydra was aiming for. It was like a dark and uncomfortable presence had been placed in his mind. It was sitting there, watching him, waiting for something.

Shaking his head gently to dislodge the darkening thought, Barnes ran a hand through his hair and then across his scruffy cheeks, contemplating Steve. Holy Cow! What had the Army done to him! I told him not to do anything stupid till I got back, Barnes groused to himself, and look what happened. Went and got himself all experimented on. What a nimrod.

That nimrod rescued your sorry ass, James, he reminded himself. Yes, good old Steve. That boy was as scrappy and bullheaded as they came.

So now he sat, alone. In a bar, thousands of miles away from his home but back with his best friend.

Bucky felt Steve enter from the right and turned to see Rogers striding in, a smile on his face. "See? I told you they were all idiots." Barnes quipped, drinking his whiskey. Steve pulled up a chair next to him.

"How about you?" Rogers asked settling in, "Are you ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?"

Bucky looked absently in front of him, feeling his face tighten with fatigue but quickly replied, "Hell no." He could feel Steve's eyes on him in concern, friendship and fear that Barnes would reject him. Barnes continued with an fatigued voice knowing he was about to commit himself to a greater oath than he had taken as a soldier, "That little guy from Brooklyn, who was too dumb to run away from a fight. I'm following him." Bucky took a drink before the tears welled up in his eyes, hoping the fumes of the drink would burn them away.

Steve looked away, relieved that Bucky said yes, but worried as well about the state of his friend. A lot had happened since they had gone separate ways. Rogers wasn't too happy about what had befallen his best friend in his absence.

Suddenly, the old Bucky's voice came back, "But you're keeping the outfit right?" Once Barnes had seen what the congressman had made Cap wear, there was non-stop jokes.

"Stars and Stripes? More like striping your underwear if you were in real combat!" James had joked. "And a shield? What are you a Roman gladiator?"

"And who got yours out of jail, wingnut!" Steve had replied, feeling a bit snubbed. "Glad you learned some history beyond the first grade."

Steve smiled, glancing at his War Bonds show poster over his shoulder a bit depreciatively, "You know what? It's kinda grown on me."

"No kidding. It's tights." Barnes chuckled, a rough noise missing all the humor, "Surprised you can get them off!"

"Ha. Ha." Steve returned just as Agent Carter entered.

The night changed, for everyone.