Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Steve hadn’t been to an aquarium in years. But, it was today he found himself passing each section of tanks. The first one was filled with dolphins and fish. The second, predators. But the third, he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the glass. The last thing he expected to see was a mermaid. Placing a hand on the glass, the mermaid swam over, placing a hand in the same way. Steve opened his mouth to gasp but stopped himself and removed his hand, leaving the aquarium and going home.

Steve woke up early the next day. Grabbing a backpack, he stuffed it with coloured markers, pencils, and two different notebooks. Steve shook his head. He didn’t know what it was about this one creature that intrigued him so much. But he still made his way to the aquarium to stare at the sea green-eyed merman. He sat on a bench across from the tank. When the merman noticed the blonde haired man, he swam over to the glass of the tank and placed his hands on the glass. Steve looked up and smiled and then turned to his bag to grab a black marker and a notebook. The merman observed carefully as the man carefully wrote the alphabet in a big font. He then turned the page and wrote something else and turned it around to face the glass

“What’s your name?” the page said.

The merman smiled as the blonde turned the page to show an alphabet chart.

“B” he pointed to. Steve turned the page and wrote down a B.

“U.” He again turned the page to write it down.

“C” “K” “Y.” Bucky. Bucky. Steve smiled repeating that name back in his head. Steve turned to an empty page and wrote down his own name and turned it to face the glass. Bucky pushed himself off the glass. He had heard that name before. Steve walked up to the glass and put his hand on the glass. Hesitantly, Bucky crept up to the glass, staring at the hand before him and covered it with his own. Bucky watched as Steve laughed. He wondered if he would ever have the chance to hear that laugh. Steve walked over to his bag placing his notebook and marker inside. He waved goodbye to Bucky.

Bucky.

Just thinking of the name made him smile. He chuckled as he walked out the aquarium gates.

“This is gonna be worth every penny of those entry fees.”

Chapter Text

Steve visited the aquarium every day after his first encounter with Bucky. Sharing smiles, reading lips. Bucky had gotten so much better at understanding Steve’s antics and characteristics, that they didn't even need to use the notebook anymore. Steve stayed with him almost everyday. It was very rare for him to not show up.

Until one day, it was Bucky who didn’t show up.

Steve flipped through the Sunday morning newspaper.

"Puppies for adoption."

"Local kid a hero."

It was the same stuff as everyday. Until one thing caught his eye.

“Local Aquarium Mermaid removed from exhibit.”

Steve threw down the newspaper and got his backpack. He raced to the aquarium, paid the usual entry fee, and ran straight for the tanks.

Bucky was gone.

The papers were right. The usual passersby and staff told the Steve nothing useful. All they could say was that he’s happier where he is now and that Steve needs to cheer up. Steve knew that the only reason he’d be cheering up would be seeing Bucky’s cheerful face again.

Upon seeing Steve, one old lady who recognized him told him that Bucky had ended up being placed in a open tank for the time being until they were sure he got his mojo back.

This made Steve worry. What had happened to Bucky while he hadn't been there? There was obviously nothing he could do since he didn't actually work at the aquarium. So by principal, it was none of his business. He felt powerless.

Moping, he meandered his way to the cotton candy vendor. He ordered a pink one and was ready to leave the park. That is, until he noticed an 'employees only' entrance behind the indoor tanks that Bucky use to reside in. Steve glanced around, casually walked over, and pressed on the door with his palm.

It was unlocked. He slipped through, snuck through the outdoor area and found a large pool.

“Must be for something big.” He thought. He peaked over the edge and that’s when he saw-

“Bucky?” he cried out.

The mermaid swam to the top of the tank, having seen the moving blur of a person looking down at him. After breaching the surface, he shook his hair out and looked up at the man. Steve couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Were his eyes playing tricks on him?

“Steve,” Bucky said, “Steve you’re here..” he shook his head.

Somewhat dazed, Steve said, “I’ll be honest. I didn’t think I'd hear you speak for the first time while I'm holding a big pink cotton candy..”

Bucky laughed.

“Hey. Don’t laugh. It’s good. Try it.” Steve held the cotton candy out to him. Bucky reached out and gently held Steve's hand, pulling the cotton candy closer to his face. Steve leaned too far forward and fell into the pool.

He gasped and lurched forward, awaking in his own bed.

He sighed and sat up, grabbing the newspaper, hoping it’d give him the same information he read in his dream but of course, nothing. He didn’t know where Bucky was. The aquarium staff wouldn’t tell him anything. He was left hopeless.

Steve pulled out one of the notebooks from his backpack, the one filled with their jokes and pages of Steve trying really hard to understand which letters Bucky was pointing to. He then pulled out another notebook and sighed as he drew the shape of the pool he had seen in his dream.

He drew Bucky peaking over the edge of the pool, staring at him. He drew the cotton candy that Bucky had pulled from his hands. He drew his tail, long and elegant in the water. He sighed and sat back, putting down his pen.

Steve knew he had to find Bucky. And he wasn’t going to stop until the two of them were face to face, with no glass in between.

Motivated, Steve did some digging into the aquarium's layout. With the help of a friend who knew how to use computers systems better than he did, he was able to map out every employee entrance and every secret pool that the public wasn’t alowed to see. He drew out an overhead map of the entire facility. Steve stuffed his backpack full of all the information he could need and set out for the aquarium.

---

“You come here a lot.” said the woman he always bought his entrance ticket from. “What’s so interesting that you have to come back for?” she asked.

“I wish I knew.” Steve whispered.

“...Enjoy your day then.” she said with her usual smile and nod.

Steve made his way to the bench across from Bucky’s old tank and pulled out his new notebook, now full of maps. There were supposedly three secret pools behind Bucky’s enclosure.

"One of them has to have him." he whispered to himself as he got up and made his way to the first employees only door.

---

After about five minutes and three more doors, Steve was glad he had happened to wear his pair of shoes that didn't squeak. He was staring to despair, and after two near misses already with the staff members, Steve was ready to go home. But something inside him had to make sure the last pool didn’t have Bucky.

He waited for an employee to pass before he snuck through the last door at the end of the hall. Sure enough, there was the third holding tank, though this one was larger than the rest. There was a plastic tarp draped around the border of the tank, so he couldn't see through the glass to check for Bucky. Getting right up to the tall walls of the tank, Steve peered over the edge of the tank, looking for any sign of life at the bottom of the pool.

“Nothing.” he mumbled.

“What was that?” a voice said from the other side of the tank. “Did you really not think to see if anyone was watching you from the surface first?”

Steve looked up to see a mermaid staring at him from across the pool, quietly floating on his back on the surface. The mermaid squinted at him for a moment, then gasped at recognizing Steve's face.

“Steve?” the mermaid splashed as he turned over in the water and swam over to the where Steve was standing. Steve backed away from the tank with an open mouth unable to Look away.

“I knew I’d find you..” he whispered still staring at Bucky who was now at the very edge of the tank staring back.

“What- How did you get here? How did you find me?” he asked incredulously.

Steve shrugged, inching closer to the tank, and showed Bucky his drawings of the park.

“You drew all this?” Bucky asked.

Steve nodded, still at a loss for words.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky said, staring at Steve like no one ever had.

“Wha- What for?” Steve said, somewhat alarmed. Bucky smiled.

“You’re about to get really wet.”

Bucky leapt forward at Steve and wrapped his arms around him in one large splash. Steve didn’t even realise he had dropped his notebook as he was engulfed in this soaking wet hug.

In this moment, he couldn’t have been happier.

After a moment, Bucky, with his head on Steve’s shoulder, opened his eyes and looked down at the fallen notebook.

“Hey. What’s that?”

Steve leapt back, finally realising that this was indeed real life and that this was indeed what Bucky sounds like. Steve shook his head, and looked down at his notebook which was now wet, but was open to the drawing Steve drawn that morning.

“Oh um..” Steve mumbled, scrambling to pick it up.

“Is that cotton candy?” Bucky asked, as if the drawing wasn't of him holding the cotton candy.

“Uh yeah” Steve managed to reply.

“Oh man. Cotton candy sounds good. I mean I've never had it but-” Bucky said as he watched Steve reach inside his backpack and pull out a plastic container of pink and blue cotton candy.

“Prepared for every occasion” Steve said, opening the tub with a pop.

“Sweet!” Bucky reached out to get some but was swat away by Steve, who quickly moved the container.

“You know, you’re a real punk.” Bucky chuckled.

“Yeah? Well you’re a jerk! I didn’t say I was gonna share!” Steve laughed.

Bucky grinned, realising his one wish had come true. He could hear Steve laugh.

Steve pulled some of the cotton candy out of the container and gently handed it to Bucky.

“You proved me wrong.” Bucky whispered, shaking his hand dry as he reached to take the cotton candy.

“About what?” Steve leaned against the edge of the tank as he watched Bucky examine the pink fluff in his hand. 

“I guess some stories do have happy endings.” 

Chapter Text

"Endings, huh?" Steve laughed, "I thought we were just beginning?" Steve spoke with a smile, but he was a bit concerned at why Bucky thought his story was ending. He looked at Bucky, who was turning the piece of cotton candy over in his hand thoughtfully. Bucky looked up at him suddenly, eyes filled with something Steve had never quite seen from him before. Bucky opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a deafening alarm that echoed off the water and amplified itself around the room. A red emergency light on the wall began to flash. In less than an instant, Bucky had disappeared under the water out of panic. Steve was left standing, still wet, wondering if he should just bolt.

Disconcertedly, he glanced around. There was nowhere to hide in this room, save for another door he hadn't seen upon entering. He ran to it, nearly slipping on his wet shoes. He grabbed the metal handle and yanked on it, trying to pushing it up or down but it wouldn't give. The worst of his crimes thus far was trespassing at most, so he wasn't yet as worried as he should've been. 

"Steve!" Bucky shouted from the tank. Steve turned and ran back to Bucky, who was practically hanging over the side of the tank.

"I have to--" Steve began.

"I know I know, um look, I need to tell you something." Bucky started hesitantly, but his voice had cracked and had ended sounding more desperate than he would've liked. 

"Now? Right now? Can it-" 

Bucky grabbed Steve's shoulders.

"It can't wait. Listen to me. I'm going to be transported.." Bucky's voice dropped off at the end like he was about to say something he shouldn't. He looked terror striken, and Steve could hardly hear him over the blaring alarm. He didn't have much time, but Bucky looked at him for a second and then continued. "...To an aquatic research center in uh, Washington, I think. Steve I don't-" his mouth opened like he was trying to continue but couldn't. His eyes flashed back and forth between Steve's, a brilliant shade of green combined with the reflection of the flickering pool lighting. "I can't.." 

He was cut off by a tremendous metal clang as a squad of security officers burst through the door. 

"GET ON YOUR KNEES, NOW." two of them shouted in unison. One of the others turned to his shoulder to report their situation and location to whoever else was on his radio. Steve pulled away from Bucky to face them, hands in the air, prepared to surrender and pretend he had gotten lost. He knew that his story wouldn't hold up since he came here nearly every day just to see Bucky and where had they found him? With Bucky. He would need to think faster than that. But what else-

"YOU. GET BACK, BOY. GET BACK!" One of the guards shouted and Steve saw he had his gun trained on Bucky. The alarms hadn't yet ceased, so Steve was the only one who heard Bucky when he spoke:

"Jump in the pool."

Steve knew that the smart way out of this would be to surrender to the security guards. He knew this, and yet.

And yet.

He side glanced at Bucky as he backed a step away from the pool. There was a despondency in Bucky's eyes that differed from the fear Steve had expected to see in them. That was enough to make up his mind.

In one swift motion, Steve scooped his backpack off the floor and flung it at the guards, shouting ITS A BOMB as he leapt towards Bucky and hoisted himself over the edge of the tank. His shoes (that would definitely squeak after this) caught on the torn edge of the plastic canvas and he ended up dragging most of it into the pool as he struggled into the water. Bucky would've laughed at his clumsiness if it wasn't for their current situation.  

The guards that hadn't scrambled out the door away from the backpack were now at the pool's edge aiming their guns out across the water. They shouted at Steve, who was stuggling to keep his nose above the water while the plastic canvas virtually immobilized his left leg. Where had Bucky gone? This was his idea and now he was nowhere to be seen.

Steve wasn't one to give in to panic, but the flashing red light in the otherwise dimly lit room and the blaring alarms was making it all worse. What was he thinking when he jumped into the pool like that? What was he expecting to do from here? Swim around until the guards fished him out? Swim around until the guards shot him and fished his dead body out? He heard muffled shouting, splashing, a tremendous BANG, and then all at once Bucky's face surfaced right next to him, looking concerned. 

It occurred to Bucky at this exact point that he didn't know if Steve could swim. He sincerely hoped Steve hadn't been expecting Bucky to keep him from drowning when he jumped in, because that was something Bucky was entirely unfamiliar with. Either way, they didn't have time for any delays, so Bucky would have to treat Steve as if he had never been in the water before. Just to be safe. 

He grabbed Steve's shoulders, steadying him, and quickly instructed him to hold his breath. 

Not about to question a direct order, Steve took in a full breath just before he was pulled (quite forecefully) underwater. Bucky maneuvered himself so he was swimming above Steve, holding his shoulders as they moved swiftly through the water towards the farthest wall. Steve was finally able to kick free of the canvas, and they were suddenly moving significantly faster. Steve couldn't see a thing, not willing to open his eyes under the water he could taste was salty.

It was calm under the water. With his eyes shut, the blinking red light had dimmed to a vague orange pulse. The water muffled the ringing alarm and the shouts of the guards to nothing but a loud hum and distant mumbling voices. Bucky's firm grasp on his shoulders was almost calming, and any panic he had felt seconds ago was washing away with the cool water that flowed over his skin. It was such a serene experience that at this one moment, he couldn't have been more convinced that he had made the right choice by jumping into the tank with Bucky. He felt himself slow in the water, and decided to open his eyes.

Everything was blurry, as he had expected, but it didn't sting as much as he thought it would. They had reached the wall, about thirty feet away from the other edge of the pool. Bucky released Steve's shoulders as he came to a stop and Steve watched as he swam over and around him to something on the wall. He watched Bucky's blur of an arm reach out and test it, then watched as he pushed off the wall and swam away towards where the guards would be.

Steve wondered if the guards were worried about him. After all, mermaids were heard to be extremely dangerous creatures (the mythical ones at least) and Steve had hardly given a second thought to going for a swim with one. Steve remembered the guard that had pointed his gun at Bucky moments ago. The guard had shouted get back, when the only one within Bucky's reach had been... Steve.

Was Bucky dangerous?

Steve struggled to see where Bucky was in the dark water, only catching glimpses of a far off red blur when the lights flashed. The black plastic canvas that was halfway afloat provided even more cover from the light, and Steve watched a glimmer of crimson reflect along Bucky's tail as it disappeared into the shadow. A sharp unease suddenly twisted Steve's stomach.

He needed air.

He pushed off the bottom of the pool and rocketed towards the surface. Steve was a strong swimmer, but all his muscle made him less buoyant. He hadn't noticed the pool had gotten deeper at this end either, so the trip going up took him just a second too long and he ended up with a mouth full of water.

He surfaced coughing and spitting and sneezing and gasping for air. His nose burned and the alarm seemed to ring back to life, buzzing in his ears. He was in the middle of a cough when there was a deafening BANG and a tiny splash in the water right next to his head. He looked out across the pool and through the haze of his watery eyes and the flashing red, he saw a guard with a gun aimed directly at him. He took a gasp of air and was yanked underwater just as he heard another shot echo out. The guards weren't as worried about Steve as he thought they might've been.

Bucky pulled him all the way to the bottom of the pool by his waist and Steve struggled to make him let go. Bucky recognized Steve's agitation and released him, waving his hands to get his attention. He was holding something. Was that... a gun? That must have been what he was searching the floor for just then. And he must've stolen it when Steve heard the first shot just after he jumped in.

So that's where he had been.

Steve's vision was a blur again, but he watched Bucky fiddle with the gun for a second and then aim it at the wall. The wall? Steve looked at where Bucky was pointing the gun and realized there was a reflective looking hatch about two feet square. Steve heard a small click amongst the deep hum of being underwater and wondered if Bucky was serious. Sure, maybe the glock he was holding was water resistant, but it wasn't about to actually fire underwater.

However, it seems Bucky didn't know that, so he took to bashing on the door with it instead. Steve had subconsciously stopped listening to the activity going on above the water, so even though dozens of bullets now littered the pool floor, it took one to whizz by in front of Steve's face before he noticed. He quietly watched the trail of bubbles the bullet left in the blinking light as they scurried their way to the surface.

Steve was in more trouble than he thought. Part of him had expected to be shot at, but that never quite compared to actively being shot at. He heard a much closer crashing noise, and looked back down to see that there was now a black square where the apparent glass had been. Bucky dropped the gun and grabbed at Steve's shirt, pulling him towards the hole in the wall. Steve knew he didn't have much of a choice.

He swam through, beginning to feel the ache in his lungs. He knew he would need to breathe soon.

It was completely dark in the- the whatever he had just swam into. He couldn't see anything. He tried to go up for air, but he hit something solid. He felt Bucky brush past him as he felt around for anything. He seemed to be in a rectangular tunnel? Of sorts? He wasn't sure. He felt someone (he assumed it was Bucky) grab his hand and soon he was being pulled along through this tunnel. They neared a dim blue light source, and Steve could see it was another square glass hatch. Bucky stopped in front of it, and struggled to turn around in the cramped space. Steve knew he needed to get through the door. He looked up, and in the shadows, he could just barely see that the tunnel he was in was made of glass, and there was a mechanism on the other side to open the door in front of him. That would be of no use.

The ache in his lungs had now tightened into a desperate knot, his throat was clenched tight, and he could feel himself about to give up and try the water again. He needed to break through this door now. He wedged his back against the tunnel wall with his shoes against the glass hatch and kicked it as hard as he could.

He felt something snap in his ankle, but the glass broke on the first try so he turned over and darted through as fast as he could make himself move. The hatch led to... a... cave? An actual rock cave? The cave tunnel led directly up to the surface, and Steve felt himself being pushed upwards when he began to slow, having spent all his oxygen.

He surfaced with a small splash and a gasp. Bucky's head popped up next to him a second later in the cramped space. Steve held on to the rough black wall with one hand and wiped his eyes with the other, breathing hard. Bucky gave him a few seconds to recompose before warning him,

"We don't have much time before they track us here. So this is the tank I'm usually in, right? When you come to visit. You know the big rock in the back? That's what this is." He smiled as he twirled a finger around, gesturing at the cave. Steve nodded half heartedly, still blinking the water from his eyes. Gently laying a hand on Steve's shoulder, Bucky nudged him towards one end of the cave and continued, "See this tunnel?" Steve looked in the direction Bucky was pointing him and saw that there was a circular opening in the rock, about two feet wide, just under the bobbing surface of the water. It was their only light source. Steve nodded, still not ready to speak. "You go through here, it'll take you into the main tank. Surface isn't far. On top of the rock, there's a door on the wall. It shouldn't be locked during public hours. You climb the rock, you get out the door. I don't know exactly where that leads but there's gotta be an exit close by. Got it? I'm gonna go back down the other way and try to get you some time."

Bucky's words echoed in the enclosed space so he spoke softly, but he still managed to convey an unsettling sense of apprehension. Steve could hardly see Bucky except for the flickery blue under lighting coming from the tunnel he was supposed to go through, and he couldn't help but admire his soft features. Bucky hadn't bothered to dry his face at all, so the tiny beads of water twinkled blue as they dripped down the contours of his face. Steve suddenly remembered what Bucky had said earlier about being transported. Would this be the last time they saw each other? It felt so strange to be this close to him after only having ever seen him through a thick wall of glass. It was uncomfortably liberating.

"Steve?" Bucky brought his attention back, and Steve nodded.

"I'll see you soon." Steve said with confidence, and he reached a hand towards Bucky's neck, but hesitated and lightly shook his shoulder instead. Bucky looked doubtful of Steve's words, shaking his head slightly. His lips parted with the intention of protesting, but Steve cut him off by inhaling sharply and ducking under the water.

He kicked off the cave wall and moved with ease through the softly lit opening. He rounded a small corner and all at once, he found himself free of the cave shadows in a vast expanse of blue. Small flickers of different colored blurs darted around him. Steve had never really paid the small fish in the tank much attention. That is, until now, when they were nipping at his arms and ankles. He turned and moved up towards the surface, trying not to attract too much attention from whatever visitors were no doubt watching.

The surface was only about three feet up from where the tunnel opening was. Steve went up and immediately began climbing the rock, which he could now see was quite cheaply painted, as it was chipping off in some places. That couldn't be good for the fish. He started to wonder what kind of paint they used before he realized he didn't care. His mission was to get out of here.

The rock didn't tower over the surface as he had almost expected it to, so it would have been an effortless climb if he hadn't injured his ankle when he had slammed it against the glass hatch. Steve's upper body strength made up for it for the most part, however. The top of the rock was flat and dry concrete, and there was a door just where Bucky said it would be. Steve tested the lever handle just to ensure it wasn't locked before wringing out his shirt slightly and shaking his pant legs a bit. How was he supposed to just walk out of an aquarium while soaking wet?

As fast as possible, he decided, and set out limping through the door to find an escape. The room on the other side seemed to be a lab of sorts. It was well lit and sterile, one wall holding nothing but assorted sized refrigerators and freezers. For fish food probably. The other wall had a line of stainless steel countertops with a large sink at the end. Positive posters with fish puns and safety procedures neatly covered nearly the rest of the wall space. There was a first aid kit that caught Steve's attention, hanging on the wall above the smallest refrigerator. Steve knew he didnt have the luxury of time, but he wasn't sure how far he could get with his ankle like this. Not if he didn't want to attract any attention. He hobbled to the kit and pulled it off the wall. He usually knew his way around a first aid kit, but this one was so heavily used that the only adequate bandage was buried under the other contents, and had been torn hastily with something that was apparently not very sharp. There was some dark orange staining on one end. Perfect.

Steve sighed. He would have loved to reprimand whatever immature employee had left the kit in such a shape. He lifted his leg up to rest on the small refrigerator, and winced as he removed his shoe. Taking off his soaked sock felt nice though, and he hastily bandaged his ankle before attempting to put it back on. The sock refused. He put the wet sock in his jacket pocket and painstakingly replaced his shoe. He just lowering his leg when he lost his balance and slipped on the puddle that had gathered beneath his dripping pants. He landed on his tailbone, but he managed to catch himself with his hands so the impact wasn't severe. He sat for a second, looking to see if there were any other exits from the room. There was only the door he had entered and -oh- and the door he had apparently mistaken for another freezer when he first walked in. 

Steve realized at this moment that the small fridge he was leaning on didn't seem to be... on. He scooted away from it and opened it out of curiosity (really just buying another moment of not standing on his ankle) and out spilled dozens of vacuum sealed packages of... well what are these? He would guess they were some kind of food. Long strips of light tan pressed together to make what looked more or less like a bar of soap. Stuffing one in his pocket, he scurried to shove the rest back in the broken fridge. He shut the door and stood up, careful not to place too much weight on his right foot while he didn't have to. He threw together what things had fallen out of the first aid kit, and deposited the whole thing in the trash on his way out the door. 

The next room was just a long, white brick hallway with assorted sized puddles spotting the ground. There were a few other doors along the side walls. He took off towards the farthest end to his left, his shoes squeak,

squeak,

squeak,

squeaking all the way. He pulled opened the metal door at the end of the hall and was immediately met with the screaming siren and shouts again. All the civilian visitors were being crowded towards the exit by security guards who were politely yet assertively insisting that they stay calm, it's just a drill. Keep moving, yes you'll get a refund. Steve shut the door slowly, hoping nobody saw him. He realized he should try and disguise himself to some extent if he wanted any chance at getting past the guards.

His baseball cap had been in the backpack that he had thrown at the first guards, as was his spare shirt and socks. He was still wearing his jacket though, so he took it off and wrung it out before tying it around his waist. He took off his tennis shoes and tried to wring them out too, but they insisted on holding whatever water they could. He ran his hands through his hair, hoping maybe it would look somewhat styled as opposed to just soaked. He heard one of the door handles in the hall click and saw it begin to open. His hand was on the door and he was ready to bolt when he heard the voices from behind the other door.

"-how all this happens right before we ship him out huh?"

"Yeah I know. I told you they didn't give him enough when they put him under. He must know, I mean the timing is too perfect."

"Shouldn't have ever had him on display in the first place if you ask me."

-clang-

"I didn't ask you, did I? We needed the extra funds and that's exactly what he got us. You think all that stuff is cheap? You think I'm cheap? What are you doing over there come help me with this door."

Steve took that as his official cue to leave. He opened the door and slipped into a gap in the crowd of people who were so busy being inconvenienced that none of them paid him a second glance. He tried to hold back his limp as best he could as he maneuvered deeper into the center of the moving crowd. Busy making an active effort to not touch anyone with his wet clothes, he almost missed the message coming in over the radio that one of the guards dropped. The radio's volume had increased to full when it impacted the floor, so the staticky voice on the other end was suddenly loud and clear, saying,

"-sset found and detained. Two guards down. Need medical team three in theatre immediat--" at which point the guard had picked up the radio and quickly scrambbled to shut it up. 

Steve turned his face away casually from the guards at the doors and managed to walk right out of the aquarium. Once he was in the parking lot, he gave up hiding his limp and found his way to his motorcycle.

He sped away towards a friend's house, his mind racing to come up with a new tactical plan.

What had he gotten himself into? 

Chapter Text

"Man, you sure about all this?

"Sam," Steve looked down at his hands and took a deep breath before looking up at Sam to continue, "I wouldn't have asked you to go through this trouble with me if I wasn't. But I-"

"I know, I know, you need my help. You also know I can't exactly just refuse to help you. I mean, come on man what else would I do." Sam shook his head and smiled down at Steve, who was using his computer at his dining room table at one in the morning. Sam of course didn't mind, as Steve was probably the most genuinely pleasant guest he could hope to have. And of course he had meant what he said in the most loyal way possible, to mean: of course I'll help you. You've never let me down, I love helping you. Whatever you need.

But Steve, in his discouraged and anxious mood, took the tinge of sarcasm in Sam's voice (that was meant to make it seem less sentimental) to mean that Sam wished he didn't have to help Steve. That he would much rather have never met Steve so he didn't have an obligation to him. Steve knew he was joking and he knew his intentions. All the same, Steve still hated this feeling. He tilted his head slightly and watched Sam turn to leave the room.

"Sam?"

"Yeees?" Sam stopped in his tracks, leading with his head in a dramatic swoop of a turn. He was oddly enthusiastic for this early in the morning, probably trying to make up for Steve's mood.

"Thank you." Steve said quietly, but with enough weight to convey an ocean of gratitude. Sam nodded, the corner of his lips curving slightly, holding back a smile. They held eye contact for a moment more before Sam looked down and then left the room.

Steve focused his attention back on the computer. If he was going to do this, it all had to be right. Bucky had said he was going to be transported to "an aquatic research center in Washington". Steve remembered the desperation in his voice as he had said it, even over the sirens. It was important. But what Steve was concerned with was the fact that they were already in Washington. If Bucky had meant the state of Washington instead of the capital, there could be countless other aquatic research centers. Was "in Washington I think" really all Bucky knew? What faulty source had he gotten this information from anyway?

Steve attempted looking up "aquatic research centers in Washington" but had no idea where to go from there. The friend who had helped him get the layout to the aquariums was currently unreachable, so he was pretty much stuck at civilian level computer access again. Steve thought back to the conversation he had overheard when he was making his escape from the aquarium. The people had said some things about putting Bucky under and maybe he heard something then about being shipped out. What Steve remembered with irritating clarity, however, was the voice that said, "shouldn't ever have put him on display in the first place if you ask me".

Steve shuddered to think that his lovely Bucky could have been just as easily kept isolated in some- some laboratory, or a plain lifeless tank somewhere dark and hidden,

and Steve would never have known.

Steve would never have known the bright eyes that squinted with laughter at something trivial he had drawn. He would never have known the smooth curl of Bucky's lips as he spoke words Steve understood but never heard. He wouldn't have known the thrill of understanding a silent and delicate game played only with eyes and the subtlest of gestures.

Steve would never have known Bucky, who he now considered to be one of his closest friends.

It was this sudden realization combined with the malicious insensibility of the words, "put him on display" that made Steve's stomach lurch and his fists clench and he had to stand up. His straightening legs knocked back the chair a foot or so, causing a sudden scraping sound that drew Sam back to the room. Sam walked in to see Steve with his hands on his hips looking around in exasperation.

Always a tactful one, he didn't mention Steve's small outburst. Instead, he diverted his attention how he could.

"Thought you could use some coffee." he said, walking right over to Steve and holding out a mug for him to take. Steve's head snapped to look at him, his shoulders gently following the turn. He took the mug and began to lift it for a drink.

"Thanks," Steve said just before he sipped at it. Sam hummed in reply, but then his eyes grew wide and,

"oH OH wait that might not be uh..." he started. Steve raised his eyebrows and lowered the mug after a small sip. With half a smile he said,

"Well that's about the sweetest coffee I've ever tasted." Sam laughed and reached to take back the mug.

"What can I say, I'm a sweet guy."

"But that's not coffee."

"But that's not coffee. Hold on I got some real coffee in the kitchen, I just grabbed the wrong mug." Sam left the room again, but this time Steve followed. To his own surprise, Sam didn't jump when he turned around after retrieving the real coffee and Steve was right there.

"Man why don't you stomp around more. I mean what do you weigh, two hundred pounds? Make some noise. Here." Sam handed Steve the mug with coffee in it. "Now let's get to the plan. What do we need?" Steve inhaled and shook his head slightly.

"I don't know. I don't have a plan."

"Well I mean it's a mission, right? Treat it like a mission. What's our end game?"

"I don't know. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know what we need to do, I don't know where we should be, or anything! I don't know!" Steve's voice had gradually risen in intensity as he realized that he genuinely did not know what to do. This was surely a change of pace for him, one he didn't exactly enjoy.

"Okay. Well there's two kinds of missions right? The kind where you start something or the kind where-"

"There's more kinds of missions than-"

"-tHE KIND WHere you stop something. Okay?" Sam continued over Steve, trying to get him to focus. Steve just shook his head.

"Sure."

"So we don't know what we want to happen? Fine. What is it we don't want to happen, then?"

"Sam-"

"Remember that big shenanigan you pulled in the Indian Ocean?"

"When we-"

"When YOU rescued over four hundred men from the rigged sub?"

"Yeah, and I payed a price. I don't know what the price for this one could-"

"You didn't have an ending planned out, I mean you barely had a plan at all if I remember correctly. Which I do."

"What are you trying to say, Sam?" Steve wasn't exactly eager to talk about the Indian Ocean rescue mission. Especially with Sam. Sam knew this of course, so he cut to his point.

"Fill in the blanks, man. You've done this before. What do we know is gonna happen that we don't want to?"

Steve looked down at the coffee mug, stubbornly trying to avoid the simplicity of Sam's question. All Steve had was fragments of information, but one overwhelming conclusion could be made just from Bucky's eyes the day before.

"We can't let them take him."

Sam smiled gently.

"Good. Good, let's go from there."

-

"Okay but, I just gotta make sure, YOU'RE STILL SURE about this?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, how do you plan on backing out now?"

"Okay okay we're sure. Just.. yeah okay. Here we go."

Sam pulled their rented van into the gas station parking lot while Steve put on his gloves. This part of the plan should be simple. Not easy or guaranteed to work, but simple.

After an hour or three of preparations and coffee (and hot cocoa) that morning, Steve and Sam had fallen asleep on each other on the couch. Steve woke up to Sam's five thirty running alarm going off in his bedroom, and then left Sam sleeping, with a note that said he'd gone to pick up the van, be back in twenty. He came back in nineteen to find Sam had made oatmeal for them both. "Just something light," Sam had said. After their fruit topped breakfast, they packed up the van and left for the aquarium. They parked on the side of the road on a nearby hill and waited for the transport with Bucky to leave. After exactly an hour of waiting (and occasional shivering in the idle van), Steve was worried they missed him. Sam pointed out that all ten of the aquarium's vans were still in the back lot, and what else would they transport a mermaid in. Sam pulled out a small lunch box, opened it, and tossed Steve a little package of dried banana slices. "Just something light," Sam said in reply to Steve's teasing, "Oh, I didn't know we were having a picnic now."

Finally, at around seven forty, an employee came around the building, got in one of the trucks, and backed it up to an opening in the building. Steve pointed out that the garage door opened after the truck was already in position. They didn't want anyone seeing inside. "Or they don't want any bugs flying in, contaminating the place. You said it looked sterile, right?" Sam countered, trying to lighten Steve's suspicions, if not just a little. The small truck pulled away from the building at exactly eight o'clock, and made its way out of the lot and up the hill Sam and Steve were waiting on top of. Sam put the van in gear, and they tailed the truck loosely for the next three hours, waiting for it to stop for gas.

Now that it had, Sam's stomach had tied itself in a knot. The aquarium truck had pulled up next to a gas pump farthest from the convenience store, which was helpful. If Sam pulled their van in to the pump right behind it, anyone from the store's direction wouldn't have visual on the truck.

There were no other vehicles in the lot.

Steve thought that was almost too convenient, but didn't say anything. Since they had been following the truck about a mile back, the truck's drivers were already inside by the time they got there. Steve hopped out of the passenger side with his (newly obtained) backpack and casually strolled up to the empty truck while Sam began running the pump on their own van. The cold wind reached up under his loose jacket, giving him chills. Steve didn't think he could look any more suspicious with his gloves and plain bag and baseball cap, but they needed to hurry so there wasn't much he could do. He kneeled next to the truck, opened his bag, unscrewed the lid to a large plastic gas container inside, and quickly transferred the unmanned gas pump hose from the truck to his container. It filled about a quarter of the way before shutting off. Steve looked up to see that Sam had gone inside, leaving their own gas tank to fill itself. He wondered how close the men were to coming back outside. Thankfully, the driver hadn't locked the truck, which was helpful, but told Steve that they hadn't planned on wasting time getting back on the road.

Steve scurried into the driver's seat, lowered the steering wheel, and got to work on the dashboard display. He had researched the truck model (based off of a photo from the aquarium's website) and looked up a video tutorial on how to remove the clear cover to get at the gauges directly. It didn't take him long. He moved it awkwardly to the passengers seat and got out a small tube of superglue. The truck wasn't incredibly modern, so the gas gauge was like a clock hand. He gently turned it to point to the "F" at the top of the circle and glued the base. He carefully replaced the dash display cover and screwed it back into place. Though he seemed to be... missing one screw... somewhere. He searched around briefly but didn't see it anywhere. Unable to bend down to look, he felt around the floor lightly with his gloved hand. His hand bumped a- a what was that? It was loose so he pulled it out from under the seat and then Steve was holding a gun.

Steve recognized it as the same type of gun Bucky had tried to shoot out the underwater port with. As blurry as his vision had been, the glock was very distinctly colored. It was all black except for the grip and the trigger guard, which were dark purple. There was also a small extension on top of the front sight that he didn't recognize the function of. This was not a normal gun. He put it back hurriedly and decided to forget about the screw. He hoped they wouldn't notice.

At this exact moment, Steve realized that he was sitting just a few feet away from where Bucky had to be. He turned to see if there was a way to peek into the cargo compartment from the cabin (just to be sure he was actually there), but there was none. It occurred to him now that there could have been more guards from the aquarium back there. Why hadn't he thought of that sooner?! When they were at the aquarium, they saw the two drivers enter the truck from the outside when it was backed up to the building. Any number of men could be riding in the back. He figured that wasn't likely, though, given the lack of a window to the front.

Still, he chided himself for not having considered that potentially problematic situation.

He gathered his tools into a ziplock bag and hopped out of the truck. Still no sight of Sam. He looked at his watch. It had been three minutes since they had arrived and begun their operation. How long do two men usually take in a truck stop bathroom? he wondered. He double checked the cabin before closing the door, noting the empty coffee cup in one of the cup holders. Steve hoped they might have decided to refill on coffee while they were here, to buy him some time. He got back to work at his backpack that was still on the ground next to the truck... with the gas pump still connected to it.

Well that doesn't look at all suspicious, now does it, Rogers?, Steve thought to himself bitterly. He wondered what other stupid mistakes he might have overlooked at this point. Shaking his head, he pulled out a long and slender rubber tube from his pack. He pushed it into the truck's fuel tank with one hand as he shook out a rag from his pocket with the other. He stuffed the rag around the tube at the opening of the tank, sealing it off. He sighed, and blew on the other end of the tube until his cheeks puffed pink and the edge of his vision went white. He let it go and swiftly poked it into the container in his bag. The tube weighed down slightly as the gasoline flowed down through it and into Steve's bag.

He waited. He waited for the gas to stop siphoning or to hear Sam come out of the store front. Whichever came first. Every moment spent waiting, every moment spent readying himself to pick up and bolt, was only pulling the tension in his stomach tighter. What was taking them so long? he wondered. The thought occurred to him that they could be on to him and Sam. They could've seen them tailing them the whole time and decided to harass Sam about it inside the store. They hadn't expected to be noticed, so they hadn't thought to come up with a detailed cover story.

Steve decided that that was enough stolen gasoline for the time being and stopped the flow. He let what was left in the tube fall back into the truck's tank before extracting it, hastily wiping it off with the rag, and stuffing it into the bag alongside the container.

"Sure is nice weather for this time of year, aM I RIGHT?" Sam's voice echoed off the brick building on the last word, making sure Steve knew they were coming. Steve screwed the cap onto the nearly full container in his bag and started for the van. He skidded to a stop on the gravel, turned around, and hurried to replace the gas nozzle into the truck's fuel tank. He ran silently back to the van, crept through the driver side door Sam had left open for him, and tumbled through the curtain into the rear cargo area with a thud. The van shook.

The halfhearted conversation (about weather) from the men outside stopped. Steve held his breath and listened.

"Watcha haulin' back there?" one of the men asked, feigning curiosity. His tone edged dangerously close to hostility. Sam only laughed dryly.

"Well don't let this slip, but I uh, so my sister accidentally bought, okay get this," Steve heard Sam's shoes shuffle on the dusty asphalt as he changed his stance for storytelling, "she lives in the middle of New York, right? Up in Chealsea. Real high class place. Well her daughter, her five year old daughter brings home a goat one day. A goat."

The two men spoke at once in genuine humor. They believed him.

"Ha! Really?"

"Where'd she get that?"

"Refuses to say where she got it. Nobody can get her to talk. So my sister, right? She can't just keep a goat in the middle of the city. But little Sharon doesn't want to let it go. You know how kids are, once they get their hands on something, can't let it go. Can't just take it back up to the flat either though, you know?" The two men made affirmative "mm"s and "yeah yeah"s while Sam was speaking. He had them fooled so far. "So she calls me up from Central Park, asking if I can take this goat somewhere! Well I'm thinking, 'Okay, I'll call up the zoo, see if they have an opening' but turns out they're at their legal limit for livestock animals already, so I gotta take this guy somewhere else. So I put an ad up on the internet, you know, and within like twenty minutes, I get a call from this guy in West Virginia saying that HE SWEARS THIS IS THE GOAT HE LOST A MONTH AGO, AND HE'LL PAY ME A THOUSAND BUCKS TO COME RETURN IT TO HIM. Now I'm thinking this sounds sketchy, right? So I call into-"

"Can we see him?" the first man interrupted suddenly. Steve's heart skipped a beat and he tried to think up any options. He heard Sam clear his throat.

"Can you see- well see I rented the van so I'm not really allowed to have- you know, a goAT in there so I have it all blocked up so he doesn't get out." Sam's genuine tone almost had even Steve convinced. He was impressed.

"Well I mean you have to feed it somehow right? Can't we peek in through the front curtain there?" It was the man who first asked what Sam was hauling. He either wasn't very skilled at concealing his obvious suspicion, or he wasn't trying to. Feet shuffled on the gravel outside.

"I-" Sam started, but the other man answered for him.

"No, no we'd love to but we're on a strict schedule and we've been here long enough. C'mon let's head out." Steve heard the man start to walk away towards their truck when he realized he'd been holding his breath.

"...Yeah." a slight pause, and then, "Well you have a smooth trip with your goat friend." The suspicious man said as he turned to follow the oblivious one. Sam chuckled.

"You too. And sorry again about the coffee."

"It's fine, I think he'll live."

Steve listened in relief as the men payed the gas pump, started the truck, and drove away without question. Steve took off his backpack and set it down against the wall, double checking to be sure the gas container was still in tact and the cap was screwed on tight. After their own van was apparently fueled up, Sam popped his head through the curtain and with deadpan delivery, announced an 'all clear' and offered his hand to help Steve back up to the front seats. Taking it, Steve apologized.

"Hey man, I don't get to call you a goat and get away with it every day, so I think we're even." Sam said with a laugh. He patted Steve's shoulder as they settled into their seats. "How'd it go?"

"Somewhat smoothly, actually."

"oH well I wish I could say the same. You know you left the pump in the bag, right? I could see it from the far window. Knew you'd need more time so I had to improvise. Thought I was gonna get my butt kicked." Sam started the van.

"...the coffee?" Steve prompted.

"Yeah he was getting coffee at the machine so I accidentally tripped and bumped into him and got the coffee all down his shirt. You hear him yell? That stuff was hot." Steve laughed and shook his head no, and Sam continued while putting the van in gear and rolling forward. "Bought him a new t-shirt, insisted he wear it. He did too, just changed shirts right there. Remind me again why you got to do the gas job?"

"They could have seen me at the aquarium, I couldn't risk it." then Steve made a pouty face and mockingly consoled him, "I'm so sorry you had to see that. You gonna be okay?" In return, Sam pretended to wipe a tear.

"I just," he sniffed, "I don't know man."

Once their laughter calmed and they were pulling back on to the main road, Steve remembered something.

"So since when do you have a goat thieving niece named Sharon?"

-

They tailed the aquarium truck loosely for another hundred and fifty miles. They didn't talk much, and only listened to the radio when a good station matched up with a decent signal, which as it turned out, was not often. Sam told Steve at some point that he should lean back, get some rest. He even tugged a blanket from behind his chair and dumped it on him. Steve thanked him and even wrapped himself up (since the heating system in the rusty van was no match for the cold and grey weather) but he wasn't about to go to sleep. Steve couldn't stand sleeping on car rides. He idly gazed out the window at the passing countryside and forests and thought of Bucky and wondered just how long it would take for the truck to run out of gas.

Turns out he had siphoned the tank down to about a fourth of capacity so it took around two and a half hours. They had been following from around four miles back, mostly catching sight of the truck only when it rumbled up a hill. Until it didn't. They watched the next hill, waiting to see the truck, but it never appeared.

Sam's stomach knotted up again. They both noticed at the same time, and after much previous consideration, Steve had finally made up his mind.

"Sam, I don't like this."

"Don't like what?"

"They didn't seem a little, rehearsed, to you?"

"Man, you didn't even see 'em."

"Tell me what you saw, then."

"I saw two hired truckers that wanted to get a job done."

"Two hired third party truckers armed with guns from the aquarium?"

"TheY had guNS? When were you planning on telling me that?" Sam asked, raising his voice slightly. Steve realized that he forgot to mention the gun he found to Sam. Oops.

"I uh-"

"Doesn't seem like something you'd forget right off the bat. I mean maybe just a warning, a 'Hey Sam! My pal buddy bro I've dragged into this weird fish thieving plot! I might have seen a gun in their truck so I don't know, maybe be careful while we're steaLING THEIR CARGO! So glad I can count on you!' WOULD HAVE DONE THE TRICK."

"Okay I'm sorry, but I'm telling you now. There was a gun from the aquarium under the driver's seat."

"How do you know it was from the aquarium? Lots of truckers... carry guns... I'm sure." Sam thought he knew where Steve was going with this, and he wanted to be sure. Plan B was quite a step up from plan A. They were already cruising up the last hill they had seen the truck go over, so they didn't have much time. Steve knew that, and so he got straight to his point.

"Just, trust me. It was definitely from the aquarium. I've never seen another one like it. Alright? I think we should..." they reached the top of the hill, and could see the truck pulled over on the side of the road at the base of the next hill, about a mile ahead. "We're going with plan B. Okay?"

Sam sighed.

"Okay, captain."

-

Plan A was probably ridiculous anyway, now that Steve thought of it, hiding in the rear of the van again. Sam had pulled up behind the idle truck and, to the amusement of one man and the rising suspicion of the other, walked up and offered to help them out.

"What's the problem?" Sam had called to them as he strolled up. The men were still in the truck cabin. Upon seeing him, the driver, the man who Steve was worried might be on to them at this point, got out of the truck to confront him. The other man followed his lead, and made his way around the front of the truck.

"Funny, I guess both the pump at the station and our gas gauge decided to mess up in the same day." He laughed harshly, "Don't suppose you have some spare gas in your goat van, do you?" Sam pretended to be oblivious to his accusatory tone.

"Out of gas, huh? I do actually. It's in the front." Sam turned to retrieve the gas tank that Steve had left on the floor in the cabin. "I'm not real good at keeping track of gas stations, you know, so I always carry some."

"In the front with you? Awfully prepared."

"Well I didn't want to risk it in the back with you know who." Sam chuckled, but it sounded almost forced, edging on nervousness. Steve started to regret pulling Sam into this trouble. What if he got hurt? What they were doing was illegal already, and Sam hadn't objected once. Now things were about to escalate to on the run kind of illegal, and Sam still wasn't arguing. Sam knew Steve wasn't one to actively consider risks to himself, but still he trusted Steve's judgement when it came to him. Steve's conviction for what he thought was right was inalterable, but then again so was Sam's loyalty. Sam had agreed to this on his own, knowing the risks. Or most of them. He knew the law wouldn't be on their side, at the very least. Steve couldn't have asked for a better friend.

He took a deep breath and pulled out a small rag and a bottle of ether that Sam very conveniently revealed he owned. 'Just in case' he had said when Steve had inquired about it. They both knew chloroform and other anesthetics didn't work quite how they did on tv, but it should be enough. He heard Sam grab the gas container and so right as he shut the passenger door, Steve opened the back door and slipped out, leaving it unlatched. Feeling his feet exposed under the van, he thought maybe he was too soon, he shouldn't have done that. He stepped slowly and lightly up on the tailgate and awkwardly hung there, waiting for a signal from Sam.

Sam, meanwhile, was graciously sharing his spare gasoline supply with the men. He had the more amiable one kneeling on the ground, holding the container, while the more hostile one stood back a few feet and watched. Sam suggested he look up where the next gas station would be. Once the container was half empty, Sam pulled back and screwed the cap shut.

"Thirteen miles." The standing man said. "Thirteen miles to the next place that sells diesel. Good thing your little rented van apparently takes diesel, or we would have been out of luck. Or wait, it doesn't, does it?"

Well, shoot. So that's what you forgot. Steve cursed himself for overlooking the fact that thEY JUST HAPPENED TO HAVE A FUEL CONTAINER OF DIESEL FUEL TO GO WITH THEIR GASOLINE RUN VAN. There was no recovery from that. It was now or never.

Steve doused his rag with the chemicals as he snuck around the van up towards where the men were. Thankfully, Sam was the only one facing his direction, as the hostile man had maneuvered so he was between Sam and the vehicles. Sam was trapped in the middle of the road.

"I know what diesel smells like, son. You wanna tell us what you're really doing out here?" the man demanded. The other man (who Steve now saw was taller than he previously sounded) seemed to catch up suddenly and added,

"Yeah, sure would love to see that goat of yours. The one going to West Virginia, right?"

"I'm sure you won't mind if we have a look in the back, will you?" The man addressed Sam. Sam quickly tried to recover his story to buy time.

"HeY NO your'E gonna let hiM OUT" Steve watched as Sam went to stop the taller man from going to the van, but the first man pulled out his gun and clicked the safety, aiming directly at Sam. Steve watched as Sam's jaw clenched and, raising his hands slowly, said,

"I don't want any trouble."

Steve could have laughed at that. If Sam hadn't wanted any trouble, he wouldn't have agreed to this mess.

"Yeah?" The man gestured at his partner, "Go look in the back. Tell me about the goat."

The taller man started towards the van, and Steve's mind raced at what to do. He could take down the tall man while he was by himself, but that would leave Sam and the gunman free. He could pounce on the gunman and hope nobody got shot. He didn't have enough time to think, as the man was already at the back of the van.

"The door's open!" he reported. "And no goats in here. Just a few boxes and a trash bin." The gunman looked at Sam and demanded,

"WHO ELSE-" but was cut off by Steve, who lunged straight for the gun in his hand. Sam took immediate action, and ran to deal with the other man. Steve had knocked the man down, and now he was lying on top of the gun, trying to wrestle Steve off and keep him from getting hold of it. He was stronger than he looked. He managed to roll over, and in one swift move he punched Steve in the jaw and had Steve's leg twisted around with his own so he couldn't stand up. Steve grabbed for the gun in the man's other hand while they both punched and blocked punches equally. Steve kneed the man hard in the stomach and almost made him let go of the gun. The man moved the gun closer to his head and before Steve could figure out why, the man had Steve's hand in his mouth and bit down. Steve yanked it away, and the man took his chance to knock Steve hard across the face. Steve blinked and lost his balance for a second, allowing the man to regain his. The man shoved Steve off of him, but before he could raise his gun, Steve grabbed him and threw him up against the side of the truck. He went to punch the man in the face, hoping to knock him out before he could shoot, but the man saw it coming and expertly diverted his swing and redirected them both. Steve was shoved hard against the truck, his head colliding with the metal behind him, and the man regained his grip on the gun. Before he could aim and fire, Steve grabbed his arm and pulled him close, squishing the gun between them. If he wouldn't let go, Steve would have to think of something else. They were locked in place, each struggling to get the upper hand when the gun clicked and the man shoved it forward, pushing the top of the slide against Steve's abdomen. It clicked again and all at once, Steve was paralyzed. The bit on top of the front sight he hadn't recognized earlier turned out to be part of a stunning mechanism. This was both a taser and a gun. Steve couldn't breathe. The man held him up against the truck, the taser sound crackling in the air. With a sadistic laugh, he let go of Steve, who dropped to his knees gasping for air, and aimed the gun at his head.

Steve heard a loud CLANG and watched the man fall to the ground in front of him. A round aluminum lid to a trash bin landed clattering a few feet away on the road, and Steve looked to see where it had come in from. Sam rushed over to him, practically flying down to grasp his shoulders and tilt his head and 'you okay?' after 'you okay?' and 'what the heck was that thing' until Steve caught his breath enough to stop him.

"I'm fine, really. But he really knew what he was doing. That's no hired truck driver."

"Yeah neither was mine, or I would have been over here sooner to save your sorry butt." Sam offered a hand to help Steve off the ground. Steve noticed Sam's nose was bleeding and there was blood streaking down the side of his shirt. It looked black in contrast to the soft green of the fabric. That surely looked sketchy. Steve began taking off his jacket as he noticed the man starting to move. He threw his jacket in Sam's direction and scurried around the van to find the chemical soaked rag he must have dropped a minute ago. WHERE WAS IT?

Steve heard a small glass shatter on the road, and when he went to run around the back side of the van, he tripped over the body of the taller man, who was unconscious and lying halfway in the grass. Steve heard Sam laughing from the road, and he looked to see the man standing up, swaying unstably, with Sam behind him holding the rag (the rag Steve was looking for) up to the man's face.

"It was in your pocket, dummy!" Sam called. He and the man stumbled between the two vehicles and Sam let his body tumble down into the grass. He shifted slightly, since he wasn't totally unconscious. Steve dragged the taller man over as well. Sam looked up at Steve and inquired, "So what do we do? Because that wasn't the Plan B I remembered. Matter of fact, that wasn't the plan C, D, E, F, or G either."

"We had that many plans? Glad you came prepared."

"Ha. Haha. Really though, are we taking the truck and moving it, or what?" Sam stopped talking as they both heard a car approaching over the hill. Steve double checked to see that the bodies were out of sight of passerby cars while Sam grabbed the gasoline -er- diesel container and the trash bin lid out of the road. He tossed the lid like a frisbee over to land near the limp men. Steve leaned on the back of the truck casually while he pretended to chat with Sam.

The large black luxury car slowed as it approached, and a tinted window rolled down to reveal a young, friendly looking blonde woman. Keeping the car rolling, she offered her assistance.

"You boys need a ride? Thirteen miles to Freeport, you know." Steve thought for a split second that she shouldn't be asking men if they needed rides, and maybe they should teach her a harmless lesson. But they didn't have time. And that was a stupid idea. A really stupid idea. Shut up, Steve.

"Oh no, no we're fine. Got gas right here." Sam replied as he held up the container. She nodded happily and sped up again, saying something along the lines of "be safe" but her voice was drowned out in the rev of the engine. They watched her disappear over the next hill then looked at each other. Steve related their new plan.

"We'll take the truck just past Freeport. Then transfer and be on our way."

"Great. You know how to drive that truck?" Sam asked.

"Course! I'll just-" Steve moved to open the back doors of the truck, hoping to find Bucky happy and well inside. Sam stopped him and nudged him towards the grass where the bodies were laying. 

"Hold on there, man. Can't just leave these guys here. Plus, we ain't got time."

"Gotta make sure he's in there, though." Steve grabbed the man, who previously had the gun, by his ankles and was pulling him towards the nearby brush while Sam struggled with the other man. Grunting, Sam explained,

"If he's in there, he's in there. If he's not, he's not. Either way, our options right now are the same. And we don't have time for any emotional reunions so I think you two can wait another hour. Now come here and help me with this."

They dragged both the men about twenty feet into the forest, and sat them up against trees so they wouldn't suffocate, with the added bonus of looking less suspisious than just... Two bodies lying in the forest off the road. They dosed the partially awake man once more before sprinting back to the vehicles to get away. 

This was a mess.

Chapter Text

“And your name is..?”

“John Michaels.” Sam said with a smile.

“...Okay. Mr. Michaels, Room 16.” the lobby girl informed him, expressionless. She slid him a key that was attached to a large wooden tag that had the number 16 burned into the side and was painted a mustard yellow. Classy. She then wrote down the (false) name on a chart that had apparently been printed as the printer was running out of ink, since the chart lines faded halfway down. Politely thanking her, Sam tuned to leave the tiny makeshift motel office.

He strolled outside into the dimly lit parking lot to the van, opened the back doors slightly, and peered into the darkness to make sure Steve and Bucky were still there, still alright. He hadn't seen or heard from them in at least five hours. The click of the door latch woke Steve up, even over the sound of the running water pump. Steve lifted his head sleepily. Satisfied that they were safe and sound (more or less), Sam gently closed the door and got back in the front seat. The van started right up and he drove it once around the entire property in a subtle perimeter check before he backed it in to the parking space right in front of door 16.

It was two in the morning. Again. He was glad Steve had finally decided to let sleep take him. Sam had insisted on driving the van, after they had transferred Bucky (among other things) from the aquarium truck and left it in an empty lot to be found. Steve hadn't put up a fight, since he had already been fighting hard enough to keep his knees from buckling at the condition Bucky was in.

“Can you hear me?” Steve had implored him, searching the colourless body for any signs of acknowledgement. They had opened the back of the truck to find an abundance of medical and scientific equipment all connected to a central box. The box was long and made of smooth black metal. It was rounded on the edges, shaped somewhat like a cocoon, with a small porthole at one end that they could see Bucky’s face through, stoic and unblinking. After some desperate fiddling with the control panel on the side, Steve had gotten it open, and together they lifted out what was a somewhat stiff and very heavy mermaid, stuck inside what seemed to be a giant, vacuum sealed zip-lock bag. The bag had been submerged in a thick, gooey liquid that filled the container, and Steve assumed it was for temperature control and shock absorption. It was slippery and hard to get hold of and splattered all over the truck floor. The bag itself contained a thin layer of water that surrounded Bucky, theoretically keeping him from drying out and keeping him breathing. But he looked dead.

“Bucky, blink if you can hear me,”

“Hey man-” Sam started cautiously.

“Bucky?” Steve quavered.

Bucky blinked. It was a slow and laboured blink, but a blink still. He couldn't move. Not because of the bag, of course. The bag was thin and clear plastic and was as pliable as a blanket. He was heavily sedated, it seemed, but was still conscious. Unless he had been about to blink anyway.

“Alright, uh, two blinks is yes and one is no, okay? Like part of our game, remember?”

Bucky blinked twice. Despite the knot in his stomach, Steve managed a smile. With raised eyebrows, he bubbled excitedly, “Okay, are you alright? Are you hurt?”

Instead of blinking, Bucky’s pale grey eyes slowly moved to look into Steve’s blue ones. He squinted.

“…What does that mean,” Steve questioned flatly.

“You realize you just asked him two different questions? And what are you expecting him to say, anyway” Sam cut in, who had been busying himself with figuring out what equipment and supplies they needed to take for Bucky, and what they could leave there in the truck. So far, he had a small pile going on the ground outside the truck.

“Sorry, look, we’re gonna get you out of here, okay? You’re safe, they won’t take you back.” Steve said. Bucky squinted at him again. Steve realized as he said it, that that would insinuate being on the run from the government and who knows what scary organization with a mermaid for quite some time and almost regretted his choice of words, but he was fully prepared to stand by them. He wouldn't let Bucky go.

He thought of his future now as he held Bucky, who was still in the bag, but now wrapped in a blanket to make up for the loss of insulation. Steve had been sat on the floor of the van for… well he wasn't really sure how long now. Bucky was leaned back against his chest, his head on Steve’s shoulder, and his long tail lying out in front of them in the water bag, wrapped in a faded tan drop cloth Sam had brought along. Sam seemed to be prepared with everything, so far. Steve was so incredibly grateful to have him, but sharp tinges of guilt still stuck in him each time Sam did something wonderful that Steve hadn't expected him to. The aluminium trash bin, for example, Steve learned was full of assorted room temperature foods and beverages. As charmed as he was, the guilt of having caused the circumstances to force Sam into being prepared for something like this felt like he’d swallowed a needle. When he saw Sam casually and expertly avoid showing his face to a surveillance camera at a gas station along the way, another needle pinched his gut. Another wordlessly gracious gesture, another needle. This was part of the reason Steve had decided to let himself sleep. It had taken awhile, but eventually the weight of Bucky’s warm body and the rhythm of his breathing had taken him softly away from the unrest in his stomach.

Now he had been awaken by the latch of the door and Sam’s face peeking in, then disappearing and the van rumbling to life again. After feeling a short series of right turns, Steve knew they had to have arrived somewhere important. He nudged Bucky gently, leaning him forward a bit. Bucky had fallen asleep quite some time ago, and, more for Steve’s sake than his own, had closed his eyes for it. The van stopped and the engine cut off. All was silent except for the water pump that was connected to Bucky’s bag, keeping the small amount of water in it oxygenated and clean.

“Bucky?” he drawled quietly. “Buck wake up, we’re here.”

Bucky seemed to shift slightly in Steve’s arms, the plastic crinkling, and his eyelids opened lazily, bright eyes looking up at Steve. Steve smiled. His voice raspy from sleep, he managed a “Hi there” and then paused, distracted by the emerald tinge that flickered in Bucky’s eyes before he stuttered, “Can you- can you move much?”

Bucky immediately blinked once, and Steve was relieved that at least he didn't seem nearly as lethargic as before. How long have we been sleeping? He wondered. All he knew was that it was dark outside when Sam peered in, and there was no light coming from the curtain to the front. Their only light source was the little blue LED reading light Sam had hooked to the side of the van for them. The rear door latch clicked and suddenly the entire cargo area was flooded with the soft yellow light from the only street lamp on the premises. Sam opened the doors wide and Steve saw that they were parked right in front of a motel room door. He looked at his watch to find it was… 2:03 ? Sam must be exhausted if he’d been driving this whole time.

“Got us a room, lady said it has the best working tub they got. Thought you’d wanna get him out of there for a while. Make sure he’s okay.” Sam explained, gesturing at Bucky.

“Where are we?” Steve asked as he stretched and tried to maneuver himself out from under Bucky. Whatever drug he was on apparently hadn't worn off yet, as he was still as limp as anything. Steve was careful not to let his head drop back too fast.

“Just some little nowhere town. Alma, I think. So how do you want to do this?” Sam asked.

“If you just prop the door open, then I guess just the way we got him in here should work.” Steve said. Sam nodded and went to unlock the door to their room. He propped it open with a nearby rock, and returned to get a grip on the drop cloth that was almost hanging out the back.

Bucky was not small. Sure, his upper body was about the normal size for a man, if not a bit more lean and muscular. But his tail on the other hand, that was another matter. Altogether, from the top of his head to the tip of his tail, he was nine feet long.

Steve had learned to fish before. When he was stationed in a small town on the southern Indian coast, with nothing better to pass the time with, he had enjoyed fishing very much. He never actually killed a fish, though. Maybe just held it tight while he removed his hook, admiring its colours, the patterns of its scales, the delicate fan of its fins. Being very nearly completely composed of muscle, they were a tough thing to hold onto. Bucky was no different. His tail end in itself had to be at least two hundred pounds.

At least.

Good thing Steve was no lightweight. He readjusted the cloth around Bucky, wrapping his shoulders as best he could and then put one arm around and behind Bucky’s back, and the other under where his tail began. He managed to stand up, ducking his head so he didn't hit the roof. Sam had his arms wrapped around part of the tail, and was stepping backwards towards the motel door while Steve moved to exit the van. The drop down from the van to the pavement was rough, but Steve didn't lose his grip, and they carried him inside into the dark.

“Where we goin?” Sam struggled. He bumped into the dresser and one of the drawers slid out. “Watch out for that” he warned. Steve managed to turn his head and flick on the light switch as he passed it, and the light slowly buzzed on.

“The bathroom, let’s just put him down in there” Steve instructed, and so they did. The bathroom was small, tiles were missing or broken in places, and the ceiling had water damage, and they laid him down gently on the floor. His tail, still loosely wrapped in drop cloth, stretched out the bathroom door and into the main room.

“Alright, you take care of him, and I’ll get some stuff from the van.” Sam said as he turned and left them alone in the dingy bathroom. Steve realized again that he wasn't really sure where to go from here. He didn't know a thing about mermaids, really. What if he did something wrong and accidentally killed him? Just how delicate was Bucky, anyway? Would he be able to stand whatever chemicals were in the tap water? Would he live through a night in the confined space of this less than ideal tub? And what about temperature control? If Bucky couldn't tell him what he needed, which at the moment, it seemed he couldn't, Steve had no idea what to do.

He looked at Bucky lying on the floor, hoping maybe he was able to speak, or move, or something, but his eyes were half lidded and his jaw was slack. If nothing else, at least some colour had returned to his cheeks and lips. Steve supposed the first step would be to clean out the tub. Standing, he heard the front door shut and the heater turn on after being kicked a few times. He hadn't really noticed until now, but the room was as cold as outside, which was much colder than the van. He needed to keep Bucky warm. After he had rinsed out the tub (and scrubbed the sides with a wash cloth to get rid of the rings), he filled it halfway with water that he guessed was about seventy degrees or so. He recalled his dive into the aquarium pool, and how he hadn't noticed the temperature at all, so it couldn't have been much different from average room temperature. He hoped. Maybe in the excitement he just hadn't felt it.

“Hey, Sam?” he called over the drone of the old heater. Instead of responding though, Sam just strolled into the bathroom, stopping to lean on the door frame, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. “Can you help me get him in the tub?” Steve asked. Looking amused, Sam only nodded and went to start unwrapping the drop cloth from Bucky. “Is something funny?” Steve asked, worried at what he was missing. Sam only glanced up at him, smirking. Steve sighed. “Just help me out, okay?”

“Okay.”

-

Twenty minutes later and they had Bucky freed from the plastic bag after having tempered him to the water in the tub for fifteen. Bucky was… semi conscious. He seemed more like he was just drunk than anything else. The tub was only five feet long, so after a minute of his tail flapping about getting the floor wet, he had curled it around as best he could so most of him was now miraculously submerged in the tub. He hadn't tried speaking yet, even after Steve prompted with questions of “is this okay?” and “is the water warm enough?”. He had only smiled lazily and reached to touch Steve’s face while sinking his own under the water, so Steve decided he was fine for the time being. After he connected the water pump's small hose to run on the tub water, he decided to settle in for the night and figure out their next move. He left the bathroom to find Sam sitting on the bed surrounded by a small array of plastic plates, with crackers and tuna fish and assorted dried fruit slices. Steve started to laugh just as he realized,

“There's only one bed?”

“Oh, I'm sorry, do you see another?”

“Do you see me complaining?”

And so they picnicked and chatted lightly about where to go from here. Canada seemed to be their best option at this point. They weren't far from the border, and odds were if they crossed it tomorrow, there wouldn't be a hassle. They could decide what to do from there, but right now they were both very tired, and so they went to sleep.

-

It was four am and Steve woke to erratic splashing in the bathroom. The room was pitch black, and he realized the bathroom light (which he had left on) must have gone out at some point. The heater must've turned off too, he learned, when he threw his blanket onto Sam and was greeted with the frigid room temperature like a bucket of cold water. Fortunately, he had slept with his pants on, so he was only left to grasp around in the dark to find his shirt while making his way to the bathroom. He tripped on one of his stray shoes, and suddenly the splashing stopped. Running his hand along the wall and around the corner, he found the switch to the bathroom light and clicked it off and on a few times until it reluctantly flickered back to life.

Bucky was hiding under the water. His tail was bent and wrapped up around to hide his face in what looked to be an almost painful manner. He wasn't moving. Apprehension filling his chest, Steve coaxed softly,

“Bucky?”

At hearing Steve’s voice, Bucky burst to life in a tremendous splash, leaning forward, hastily rubbing the water from his eyes to look at Steve in shock.

“Steve?!” he gurgled, coughing and sputtering as the water left his lungs. “Steve?”

“Yeah it’s me, it’s Steve.” Steve assured him as he moved forward and knelt next to the tub. Without warning, Bucky reached out a hand and (not very gently) touched from Steve’s nose up to his forehead, as if making sure he was real. Satisfied that he was, he looked around, trying to catch his breath.

“Where are we?” his voice gurgled slightly, and he coughed again.

“Just a little motel…somewhere. Are you okay?” Steve inquired. “Is the- are you okay?”

Bucky didn't answer. He stared at Steve like he was searching for something, his mind racing, studying his face, and then the wall behind him, and then towards the door, until he finally looked back at Steve. Mouth slightly agape, he narrowed his gaze,

and smiled.

“Did you-” he was interrupted by a chuckle, “Did you really-” he licked his lips, still smiling, trying to formulate a sentence. He stared into Steve’s eyes for a moment, then through a laugh, he asked incredulously, “What did you do?”

And so Steve told him.

Steve sat on the cold wet floor and told him his story of what happened, and all the while Bucky listened with bright and hopeful eyes, smiling and biting his lip occasionally. He listened to how Steve had slipped out of the aquarium, how he had met with Sam, how they had spent the night planning and how they had rented a van and hijacked the truck and-

“Wait, so you didn't even know if I was in the truck?” Bucky piped in, grinning.

“Well I…” Steve stammered.

“You didn't!”

“Well I had good reason to-” Steve countered, but was interrupted again.

“Wait wait hold on.” Bucky said as he waved his hands to shush Steve, who raised his eyebrows. “So you…” Bucky paused, blinking at Steve for a few breaths before his thoughts were in order, his smile fading, “Why'd you do all this? For me? Why put yourself through all this trouble? I could have been just fine, for all you know.” He stopped, to give Steve a chance to reveal that this wasn't all about him, that he had some other plot or mission that Bucky just happened to fall into, or that Steve had discovered what the aquarium had really been up to and decided to go rogue and interfere. He waited for anything, but thrown for words, Steve just looked down at his hands.

“You… didn't really.. actually.. do this for me… did you?” Bucky implored, his voice breaking off and ending in not much more than a whisper. He scrutinized every bit of Steve’s face, frantically searching for any indication of intentions. When Steve looked up, he was only three inches away, glowering. Steve held his gaze, not giving in.

“Do you want me to quote exactly what he said?” Sam intervened, seemingly very amused. They both turned to see him leaning in the door frame, scrolling through his phone. Steve wasn't sure if he was relieved Sam had taken the pressure off of him, or if he was about to make it worse. “I wrote it down, it was so deep. Hold on.”

“Sam-”

“No, no, it was poetic, your boy deserves to hear it.”

Steve stood up and swiftly started towards him. Sam didn't even flinch as he walked by, grabbing the phone with him. With a forced smile, Steve said,

“I'm never gonna tell you anything ever again, now that I know your phone has ears,” as he tossed it gently onto the bed. He grabbed what was left of the banana slices and brought it back to the bathroom. He slowed himself as he entered, his heart racing, and Bucky watched him gingerly lower the toilet lid and lay a towel on it before taking a seat.

“Thought you might be hungry,” he quipped, and offered Bucky the bag.

-

It was a good thing the toilet was right next to the tub, or they would've had a significantly bigger dilemma. They all learned very fast that Bucky had been on a very specific diet for a very long time, and his poor stomach didn't know what to do with hardly anything other than- well, what had he been eating? Steve needed to find out or else Bucky would inevitably starve.

Steve found it slightly odd (as he helped support him to stretch over the edge of the tub to the toilet) that Bucky’s instinct was to indeed go for the toilet when he felt he would be sick, and made Steve wonder just where had Bucky come from? He realized he had no idea. That seemed like a pretty important bit of information he had never considered a lack of. But right now, as Bucky wept softly in Steve’s arms as a result of his stomach very violently rejecting the banana, now was not the time to ask.

After he had calmed down, Steve gently set him down back in the tub, washed his face with a clean cloth, and asked if there was anything he could get him.

“What all did you guys get from the truck you pulled me from?” he asked Sam simply. Sam had been more in charge of inventory than anything, and Bucky seemed to have figured that out. Sam seemed somewhat taken aback that Bucky had obviously addressed him instead of Steve for the first time. In return, Sam gave him a flawless report.

“So, nothing like, or I don’t know what they look like out of water, actually.” Bucky uttered softly, his sentence fading to turn into a mumble that seemed to be directed more towards himself than Sam or Steve. However, Steve suddenly perked up as he remembered something.

“Sam, check your pockets” he instructed. Sam, who was wearing Steve’s jacket (originally from the day before to cover the bloodstains on his shirt, but now because the motel room was so cold) did as asked, and checked the pockets of Steve’s jacket. From one of the interior pockets, he pulled out what looked like a packaged bar of soap. At seeing it, Bucky immediately piped up.

“That’s it! That’s what they give me!”

“This stuff?” Sam choked. He held up the small tan package by his thumb and index finger, examining it with distaste. “It looks like soap”

“It’s not, it’s what I eat. How many of those do you have?” Bucky asked him. Steve’s stomach knotted up again.

“Just the one,” he said solemnly.

Just the one. It seemed they hadn't escaped the aquarium just yet after all.

Chapter Text

“Is there a way we can find out what’s in them?”

“Not with what we’ve got here.”

“Then our only other option is to get more, then.”

“We could always just feed him something harmless until he does keep it down. He’ll have to eventually, you know.”

Steve took an exasperated breath and looked around the room, thinking. There was sense in Sam’s words. There always was. Once Bucky’s body was desperate enough, it wouldn't be able to afford to refuse whatever they gave him. But that had to be… a worst case scenario. They were supposed to be helping Bucky, not making him suffer more. More than what, though? Steve wondered, not for the first time. What had scared Bucky so much in the first place? Where did he even come from? Was he born in that aquarium? Does he have a family somewhere? How many mermaid families could there be in the world? Steve had no idea. He heard Bucky splash softly from the bathroom. Steve hoped he couldn't hear them talking over the drone of the obnoxious heater.

So far, and they both knew it, Steve was more than willing to get reckless in order to help Bucky, while Sam was trying to keep the collateral damage to a minimum. It was as if Sam was walking a horse on a dog leash, unable to stop him, doing his best to keep Steve out of the street, and yet never considering letting him go to keep himself from being pulled into the road as well. Sam knew what Steve had in mind. Steve was trying to think of how to break back into the aquarium to get more- whatever that food was. The not-soap. Steve didn't just want to walk into the street, no, he wanted to make a beeline across a freeway and run around in the open shooting range on the other side to bring back Bucky a snack. Sam watched Steve calmly, waiting to see what he would say. He didn’t have to wait long before

-KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK-

“Michaels!? You got a call?!” came a shout from the door. Sam recognized the voice as the tired lobby girl from last night -er- from a few hours ago. What time is it, anyway? Sam looked at his watch as he walked to the door.

4:43.

Sam opened the door a few inches, not unlatching the chain. Sure enough, it was the lobby girl. She looked more tired than Sam felt. Now that he saw her standing, he thought she couldn't be more than five feet tall. She shivered in the cold night air, wearing only casual clothes and a brown cardigan.

“There’s a call for your.. friend? Mr. Carter?” she said hesitantly. “He’s with you, right? I mean I already know all the other tenants. I thought you were alone but…” she trailed off. Sam didn't see a way out without drawing attention, so he smiled. “Call on the office phone for Mr. Carter though, right?” she concluded.

“Yeah, yeah he’s mine. He was sleeping when we got here, you know. Yeah uh, he’s right here.” Sam glanced back behind the door where Steve was standing. One look at Steve’s face and it hit him. Mr. Carter. “One second.” Sam closed the door to unlock the chain and threw a look at Steve. Steve didn't find it funny. He grabbed his hat from the bed and looked around for his jacket briefly before he saw Sam was still wearing it. He apparently wasn't about to give it back, either.

Steve slipped on his shoes and walked out the door, his mind racing. They had both of course left their phones hidden at Sam's house, buried in his flower garden in a sealed lock box. Whoever was calling obviously knows exactly where we are. They know about my -personal history- and don’t mind making fun of me for it. They must want me to know who they are. Steve suddenly figured it out, and as they walked to the front office through the dark and cold open air of the parking lot, he asked the girl if the caller had a name.

“Yeah she said it was, uh, Natalie Rushman? I think?”

-

Sam stood by the door, listening. He wouldn't be able to hear Steve talk on the phone from here of course, but if he heard a crash or a shout or anything else through the thin door, he would be ready. Once he turned the heater off, he could hear some music playing a few rooms down, some very early birds singing outside, and the door of the front office when it shut. He waited, unmoving for about two minutes before,

“..hello..?” Bucky whimpered from the bathroom. “are you…is anyone there.?”

That had to be the saddest, most lost sounding voice Sam had ever heard. He started for the bathroom. If that was what Bucky had sounded like when Steve told him he sounded scared in the aquarium, it was no wonder Steve had jumped into the water.

“Yeah, hey man.” he said, coming around the corner to lean on the door frame. Bucky looked visibly relieved to see him, dropping his hands from the side of the tub and sinking in the water slightly.

“Oh I thought.. I thought you left. Then when the heater turned off…” he said, covering the nervousness in his voice with a chuckle.

“Can’t get rid of us that easy,” Sam said. “Mind if I sit down?” he added, gesturing towards the toilet. It struck Sam at this point that nobody had had to actually use the restroom at this point. Of course now that the thought hit him, he felt he would have to think up something soon. The tub hadn't come with a shower curtain, after all.

“Of- of course, yeah go ahead.” Bucky replied, seeming surprised that Sam had asked him first. Bucky wasn't very used to… having a say. At all. And Sam could tell (that's why he asked). Was that a test? Bucky thought. What if this whole thing is a test. What if they’re just doing this to me to see what I’ll do. To see if I’ll tell them everything when given a chance. To see if I actually thought I could have friends. To see what I'm capable of when I think they’re not watching me. Subconsciously, Bucky’s jaw clenched. You knew Steve was too good to be true. You knew it. Of course his story was fake. Why would anyone actually risk that much for- for you. You idiot, you actually thought.  H a .

His lips twitched, and Sam noticed he was scowling at the wall.

“You okay?” He asked. Bucky just blinked at the wall, then grinned.

“Yeah. Yeah just..” You can’t fail this test. Not this time. “Where’d Steve go?”

-

“So why are you in Michigan?”

“It’s a long story.” Steve glanced at the lobby girl with an almost embarrassed look, hoping she would maybe give him some privacy. She got the message, but looked reluctant to leaving him alone in her office of sorts. Steve covered the receiver with his palm and gave her something of a wince, mouthing the word sorry, and so she sighed and went to stand outside, shivering while watching him through the glass door. He raised the phone back to his face and smiled apologetically at her, then focused back on the call at hand. It was Natasha. Of course it was Natasha.

“Well I have another hour on this plane so you’d just be entertaining me. Come on, it’s gotta be good.”

“You’re calling from a plane? Isn't that a little expensive?”

“Not the way I'm doing it.”

“And how’s that.”

“Same way I know you’re in the Sunrise Bargain Motel.” she said nonchalantly, and Steve could practically see her smirking on the other end of the line. “Just please tell me this has nothing to do with the mermaid that’s currently missing from the aquarium I practically helped you break into.”

“I didn't think they would've publicized that.”

“Who said anything about public? I leave you for two weeks and you already forget who I am? Come on Rogers, I know you’re smarter than that.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were talking to Mr. Carter?” ...That actually gave Steve an idea.

“Well it’s not like you would've answered the phone if-”

“Nat, listen, I need a favour,” he interrupted.

“Okay." she sighed. "Shoot.”

-

Sam hugged Steve’s jacket tighter around him. The temperature had started dropping in the room as soon as he had turned off the heater. Sam had brought other clothes, of course, but he didn't want to bring them inside. He figured he’d take as little into the room from the van as possible to allow them to up and leave as quickly as they needed to. Well, as quickly as they could with a nine foot mermaid in their possession. Sam made a mental note to leave just before sunrise at the latest. Wherever they were going. At least get him back in the van.

“Need me to change the water?” he asked Bucky. Bucky, who had been lost in thought watching his tail wave about above the water at the other end of the tub just hummed in response, then looked up at Sam.

“I'm sorry?”

“Water’s gotta be cooling down by now, right?” Sam reasoned in reply.

“Oh, I uh, I hadn't noticed.” Bucky sank his chest beneath the water, to test it, and he noticed it was actually, quite cold. He regretted his choice immediately though as soon as more of his tail had surfaced on the other end, and so he grabbed both sides of the tub and lifted his torso completely out of the water, trying to submerge his tail to keep it wet. He had to bend it around a bit, and it pressed against either side of the tub, but after a moment he was more or less comfortable, and was leaning back against the wall again. His upper body was still dripping wet, and now was completely exposed to the chilly air and cold tile wall. He shivered.

-

“Shouldn't be a problem.” Natasha assured him.

“I can’t thank you enough.” Steve replied.

“That’s what I like to hear. You really should be thanking Sam though. Where is he, can I talk to him?”

“How’d you know Sam was here?”

“Please. I know you wouldn't have gotten this far without him. Real question is how did you convince him to run away with you on such short notice?”

-

“That does it, I'm heating up the water.” Sam said after having watched Bucky shiver for a full minute, and he stood up and went to reach for the faucet handles. Bucky panicked at his sudden movement, and ended up sending about a gallon of water rolling over the edge of the tub, soaking Sam’s socks before he could jump back. The small water pump that was still running on the floor at the base of the tub sputtered and coughed as it was splashed with water. Sam calmly looked down at his feet, then up at Bucky with raised eyebrows. Bucky was terrified.

“I-I'm-” he stammered, waiting for some sort of punishment. “I'm sorry I–” his breathing caught and he heard the front door slam open. They're coming, you've done it now. The cold water suddenly seemed hostile and unforgiving, biting and pinching and burning every inch of his skin. His heart pounded in his chest, and felt like it was about to stop. There was a static rising in volume in his ears and his memory flashed to see the pink tinged water all over the white tile floor of the lab, the masked man next to him looking around in disgust, shouting at another masked assistant I TOLD YOU HE COULDN'T DO IT. I KNEW HE’D MOVE. NUMB HIM. And Bucky wanted to protest, plead, promise it wouldn't happen again, but knew he couldn't, felt ice fill his lungs and spine as he was injected with what he probably feared most. The paralysing agent that's only purpose was to paralyse, not numb, not sedate, just stop him from moving. Bucky could do nothing but watch as they got back to work, having lost all control of himself, completely at their mercy, feeling everything. He couldn't scream, couldn't cry, could barely breathe, was stuck staring up at the horribly bright lights above him. He felt as if he were being crushed under the weight of a glacier trying to breath, the only thing keeping him grounded was the burning pain of the scalpels and needles and–

“Sam?” Steve peeked his head around the corner. “She wants to talk to you.”

“Your girlfriend?” Sam quipped. Sam still wasn't 100% sure who exactly was calling them here. He had a pretty good idea though.

“My- no. You’re both hilarious. It’s Natasha -er- Natalie.” Steve said.

“Can I borrow your socks?”

“She's on hold, Sam.”

“She can hold for two more minutes. I'm not digging my clothes out of the van just for a new pair of socks that are- oh! There’s some!” he said, pointing at the little bag Steve had brought in, which Sam knew for a fact had socks in it because Sam had put them there before they had left his house. Steve smiled lazily, and retrieved him the socks. “Thanks.” Sam said as he put them on on his way to the door. He slipped on his shoes and greeted the lobby girl who was standing outside waiting for him. He sent a half-hearted salute Steve’s way as he closed the door.

Steve smiled down at his shoes, turning slowly to look up into the bathroom. Bucky looked dazed. The colour had drained from his lips and he was frowning at the water on the floor. There is- A LOT of water on the floor, Steve realized.

“Buck?” Steve said gently, as he tried to reach the towel rack without stepping into the giant puddle. Bucky looked at him sadly, fresh out of a memory of what things should be like for you right now, and Bucky realized he didn't care. He didn't care if Steve was real, if his story was too far fetched to add up. He didn't care if Steve was about to turn him right back over to his real handlers, if he was about to give them a full report of his behaviour and laugh in his face that Bucky had believed him. Bucky didn't care. If this was what he had right now, real or not, he decided to get lost in it. His happiest memories had already been with Steve, and that was something that couldn't change. Even if Steve had been lying to his face, even if Steve absolutely despised him, he had done a good enough job of faking it, and real or not, Bucky decided, if this is the best you have, you will too.

It was a comforting thought, actually. It kept his hopes from getting too high while also allowing him to be happy, if not forever, than at least in this moment. This is enough, he decided. It’ll be enough.

-

Sam hadn't thought to get the girl leave the room like Steve had, so he did his best to keep the conversation with Natasha as not sketchy as he could. If that was even possible at this point.

“And so the password to your blog was what again?”

“Come on, Sam. Just write it down. Stop trying to cover for once, you need to move fast.”

Sam put his hand over the receiver to ask the girl (whose name he realized must be Veronica, judging by the bracelet she had on that had little square white beads spelling  "VERONICA") if she had a spare paper and pen. She nodded, grabbed a stack of pink sticky notes from her desk and pulled a pen out of her pocket. Sam smiled and gave her a soft “thank you” to which she just looked down at something off in the corner.

“Hit me.”

“Okay so the account number is…”

-

Steve tried to make conversation while he mopped up the floor with what room towels they had.

“Sam have an accident?” he joked. But Bucky was confused. He wasn’t sure if Steve intended him to laugh, to add to this story in which the flooded bathroom was Sam’s fault, or if Steve had meant it as a transition for Bucky to actually explain what happened? As much as he actually didn’t want to, he didn’t feel comfortable poking the fun at Sam, so he decided on the latter. He wasn’t sure just how close Steve and Sam were, so

“Ha, no. I uh, I moved too fast the wrong way and...” he made a motion with his hands that indicated a wave rolling over the tub and onto the floor, “splash.”

“Somethin’ spook ya?” Steve said, ever casually, as he looked briefly up from where he was wiping the floor, before dropping his eyes again.

“No no, just…” Bucky shook his head, “Something stupid.”

Steve slowed his mopping to look back up at Bucky, and tilted his head in a concerned manner, hoping for more information, but not about to press for it. Most of the colour had returned to Bucky's lips at least, so that was something. Steve finished up mopping the floor, deposited the towel with the others, and sat on the edge of the tub. The floor was still damp of course, but it was no longer a puddle. A heap of wet towels sat in the corner. Steve glanced up at Bucky, who had started to shiver again, and turned to look at the water faucet.

“I can heat up the water, if you like,” he offered gently. Bucky considered it for a moment. On one hand, yes of course he would like the water changed; he was cold and uncomfortable. On the other hand, it almost didn't seem worth the trouble. Was it laziness or anxiety, he wasn't sure. But Steve was right here, and he wanted to help.

“Can you show me?”

“What, how to-” Steve gestured to the faucet handle, eyebrows raised.

“How to work it, yeah.”

“Yeah of course you just- um. Well all tubs are different, and I kinda just guessed at this one earlier so.. Here, can you move out of the way a little? I don’t want it to burn you if it’s hot.” Steve warned before he did anything further. Bucky struggled to lift himself out of the water again, but his hand slipped from the edge and he fell and hit his shoulder on the side of the tub. Steve was immediately moving to assist him, too late to catch him, but soon enough to help him regain his balance with dignity. The floor got wet again, but Steve didn't care. Hands on his shoulders, he looked at him with concern, but Bucky just waved him off, laughing in a mix of embarrassed amusement.

“I'm fine, Steve I'm not gonna break.”

“You sure?”

“That I won’t break? I'm sure.”

“I meant that you’re okay.”

Bucky laughed, glanced at him slightly amused, and realized he was serious. His smile faded. “Yeah yeah, I’m fine. Can, uh, would you help me turn around? So I can reach the faucet?”

“Of course.” Steve assured him. Bucky hadn't hardly asked for anything this whole time, so of course. Of course Steve would help. Anything you want.

Steve repositioned his stance to better support Bucky, and holding him under his arms, gingerly lifted him out of the water. Again, Bucky was not light. But Steve wasn't either, and with Bucky’s help, they managed to end up practically just hugging, Bucky’s tail pushing around the water in the tub while he tried to turn it around the other way. It was somewhat awkward, Steve standing, holding tight to Bucky pressed against him, while Bucky grasped his shoulders and struggled to blindly reposition his tail, dripping wet. But they did it, and soon Steve was letting him down on the other end of the tub. Steve’s shirt was soaked and clung to his skin, but he didn't notice, didn't care.

Bucky repositioned slightly in the tub so he was resting more or less comfortably on his stomach, leaning against the side of the tub across from Steve. His tail looped up out of the water at the other end of the tub and drooped back down beneath the surface, the tip of it wrapping all the way around and brushing lightly against his back. He was using his left arm to support him under the water, leaving his right hand free to mess with the faucet handles.

“Comfy?” Steve asked. Bucky didn't register it as a question, really, as much as a “can we start now?” so he just nodded and inadvertently started chewing his bottom lip.

Instead of sitting on the edge of the tub again, Steve knelt next to it, close to the water faucet, just a bit above eye level with Bucky.

“Okay, so this,” he reached and put his left hand on the lever labelled with a worn out “H”, “This is the hot, so you turn this and the hot water will come out of there,” he pointed to the centre faucet. “Or it should. Who knows in these kinds of places.” Bucky giggled through his nose in reply, not even really watching what Steve was doing. He hadn't really ever noticed Steve’s eyelashes before, even after all the time they’d spent in the aquarium together. It had been hard to tell some details through the thick glass, which deceptively distorted whatever was on the other side. Combined with the fact that the fish tanks were really the main source of lighting for the aquarium goers to navigate by, Bucky hadn't really completely known what Steve looked like until, well until about half an hour ago. Sure, he had seen him unhindered by glass and reflections and light tricks the day Steve brought him cotton candy, but the lighting in that room had been dim, and he hadn't really gotten to just look at Steve, what with having been interrupted and all.

But now he could. He watched Steve’s half lidded eyes flick over whatever he was pointing and talking about, which Bucky didn't even hear. He watched his lips move silently for a moment, amazed at his perfectly white teeth and the way his upper lip rose slightly higher on the left side when he said certain things with his accent. He memorized their curves and colour and then looked back up at Steve’s eyes. They were blue, a brilliant blue, and up close he could see that the innermost ring was consumed by flecks of gold and emerald. The long, dark eyelashes that framed them batted a bit suddenly, and Bucky realized Steve was actually looking at him too.

“Hope I'm not interrupting something important, because we kinda gotta go.” said Sam, who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Neither Steve nor Bucky had heard him come in. Bucky peered around the wall, expecting to see him leaning in the door (as seemed to be characteristic), but instead he was already busy packing up the few things he had brought in. Steve’s eyes didn't leave Bucky, who was suddenly distracted and didn't notice.

“We’re leaving now?” Bucky asked Sam, holding the edge of the tub Steve was leaning on. Bucky pulled himself closer to better his view of the door and Sam, and consequently closer to Steve, who suddenly felt too close and stood up. Sam didn't stop packing.

“Yeah, I know where we’re going, we just gotta go. I’ll explain once we’re on the…the road..” Sam trailed off as he noticed the front of Steve’s shirt was soaked. “How long was I gone? Three minutes maybe? And you couldn't stay out of the tub?” his tone had started sternly, but ended with a smirk. Steve just stood there blushing, couldn't think of anything to say. I helped him turn around to show him how to use the water faucet! Steve thought. But all Bucky and Sam heard was

“I- I don’t- we- I was- I–”

Bucky watched him turn ever pinker and mused that Steve was either a brilliant actor, or the worst one he could imagine. He desperately hoped it was the latter. He couldn't keep himself from still just hoping beyond all reason that Steve was real. Steve’s struggling was quickly put to a stop when Sam threw a dry shirt at him that stuck to his face and shut him up.

“Know what? I don't care. But we do actually have to leave like, now, so if you’re done I could use your help,” he urged. Steve mumbled something of a “yeah” and peeled the wet shirt off in one swift motion, dropping it to the floor. He had turned his back to Bucky, and was hastily putting on the other shirt. It was light blue, and looked soft and worn.

It did not fit him.

Bucky heard an exasperated “dude” come from Sam, and Bucky looked to see him shaking his head as he turned and got back to business. When Bucky gazed back at Steve, he had the shirt snugly pulled down over his stomach, but still looked a bit flustered. Steve shuffled out of the room, leaving Bucky alone and with no apparent need to be familiar with the water faucet controls. Since they were leaving. Would this mean another long drive trapped inside the plastic bag? How far were they going this time? Bucky assumed he would be kept in the back of the van in the dark again, which he wasn't excited about. In fact, the more he thought about it, he wasn't sure he would be able to handle it at all being fully conscious. He took what remained of his food supply (he hadn't opened the package yet, not after hearing it was all he had for now) and listened to Sam and Steve prepare to leave while he tried to think up some compromise. He needed a better solution.

-

Half an hour later, and they were pulling out of the motel parking lot. It was 5:30 and Sam was driving again. The lobby girl -er- Veronica had started a pot of coffee by the time Sam ended his phone call with Natasha. “For my brother” she had said, “he does the day shift usually. But you can have some if you like.” And she didn't have to tell him twice. Sam wasn't a habitual coffee drinker, but he knew he would need it for today’s drive. His plan had been to stop around nine and make Steve drive for a change, but looking at Steve and Bucky now, he wasn't quite sure if it was worth it the trouble.

Bucky had gotten his way after confronting Steve about his issue with the van, when Steve had almost finished doing a once over of the room and had stopped in to check on Bucky. Thinking about it, before and after, Bucky felt guilty and manipulative for even asking Steve, who had responded with such soft attentiveness and empathy. But now that he was here, looking out at the vast fields of dark blue soar past on either side, some stars even visible above the horizon line, he couldn't bring himself to regret it one bit. He stared out the windows in absolute wonderment; he couldn't remember the last time he'd had proof that the Earth was this big.

He had convinced Steve to let him practically sit up front, his entire lower half secured in the plastic water bag to keep from drying, wrapped in the drop cloth again. Steve couldn't possibly argue when Bucky told him about how when he was fully awake inside it, he felt like he was actively being suffocated, and he couldn't do it for however many hours this drive would be. “And I hate the dark, Steve please don’t keep me in the dark,” he had pleaded. Steve hadn't even once tried to reason against him, it’ll be too complicated, or I'm sure you’ll be fine, or anything of the sort. He had also completely ignored Sam’s “Steve he can’t just sit in your lap, we’ll get pulled over, what then” and so now here they were: Bucky practically in Steve’s lap in the passenger seat, his tarp covered tail extending down to the floor, wrapping back around through the empty space between the two seats, under the curtain, and into the cargo area of the van. He was wearing one of Sam’s shirts under a very soft and baggy dark blue hoodie, courtesy of Steve. It felt weird, wearing a clothes. Weird, but very vaguely familiar. It felt...nice. His hair had mostly dried out by now, and- well he couldn't remember the last time it had been dry. It was tickling Steve’s nose, who was holding him very securely back against his chest.

“Wouldn't have brought any hair ties with you, huh Sam?” Steve asked after a bit of Bucky’s (quite soft) wavy hair had ended up in his mouth when he yawned. Sam looked at him, deadpan.

“Do I look like I brought hair ties with me?” 

So Steve ignored Sam's obvious annoyance, ignored the needles pinching his stomach from seeing the bags under Sam's eyes, and instead combed his hands through Bucky’s hair, trying to tame it just a bit. Bucky did his best not to just melt, that felt so new and nice. Steve pulled his hair up into a very high pony tail, twisted it around a bit and held it with one hand while taking his own cap off with the other. He slowly put the cap on Bucky's head, and it stayed, and the hair was held up underneath it, and he looked adorable in the dim light of dawn. 

Bucky beamed, watching the yellow headlights glide over the road ahead. 

This was enough.

Chapter Text

The van lurched to the left, and Steve woke up with a jolt. The sky was dark and raindrops coated the windows, clacking against the windshield in a constant drone, wiped aside a second later by the rhythmic sweep of windshield wipers. Steve looked at Sam, who was blinking at the road ahead.

“You alright?” he asked him quietly, not wanting to disturb Bucky, who Steve wasn't sure if he was asleep or just leaning on him heavily. Sam glanced his way, and adjusted his hands on the wheel slightly.

“Well good morning to you too, sunny,” he replied with false enthusiasm, slightly louder than needed. He must have seen Bucky was awake. Or he didn't care about Bucky and was trying to wake himself up. Either way, Bucky shifted slightly and drawled a gravelly “hi Steve,” his voice hoarse from having not been used in… how long? What time is it?

Steve tried to peer around Bucky to look down at his watch, and realized how uncomfortably he was positioned. He must have shifted in his sleep. Bucky had slipped down a bit when Steve’s grasp had inevitable loosened, and Steve couldn't hardly feel his left leg.

10:43.

Bucky felt him squirm and tried to lift himself up a bit, one hand on the chair armrest and the other on the ledge beneath the door window, the borrowed red cap on his head brushing against the ceiling. Steve opted to move both his legs to rest together close to the door, and helped re-wrap the tan drop cloth around Bucky’s waist. Bucky plopped back down, and since Steve had scooted over a bit, he was able to lean back on the chair now instead of just Steve. It was still a chair made for one though, and Bucky didn’t have legs to use as leverage, so Steve kept his left arm wrapped around his waist, his hand connecting loosely with the other in Bucky’s lap.

The rented van wasn’t really made for cross country journeys, and so the three of them bumped and swayed lightly in unison, all watching the road ahead. Or what they could see of it. Visibility was down to about a hundred feet due to the heavy rainfall, but thankfully the road was practically featureless, stretching out endlessly ahead in a straight line. Through the ever changing grey splatter of raindrops, Steve thought he could see the red tail lights from a small car glowing up ahead of them. Thunder rumbled through the clouds, and Bucky pulled the borrowed hoodie tighter around himself. It was very cold outside, the temperature apparently just not low enough to freeze the rain, and so the cabin of the van was quite chilly. The road started to curve, and Steve’s mind started to wander, taking in the damp smell of the van with the hint of salt in Bucky’s hair. He noticed what looked like a long burn mark running horizontally on the back of Bucky’s neck, something his hair had been hiding before. It looked fairly recent, maybe a day or two old at most, and Steve thought back to his run from the aquarium. He remembered trying to move through the thick crowd with his soaked clothes and injured heel, and he remembered the guard that dropped his walkie talkie. It had said something important, like they found Bucky and some guards were hurt. Or no, not hurt. Down. Some guards were down. And they hadn't called him Bucky of course. What had they called him? The asset, or something weirdly dehumanizing like that. But what about the guards being down? What did it take for a trained armed guard to be put out of action? It had to have been Bucky, whatever he did. Steve remembered Bucky saying he was going to buy Steve some time or something of the like, but what exactly had he done? And how had- Steve leaned back a bit to better see Bucky’s neck- how had this happened?

Bucky seemed to feel Steve’s eyes on him, and wordlessly pulled the hood up over his hat. At nearly the same time, a blinding flash of lightning struck the ground only about a mile ahead, and Steve hugged Bucky tighter in anticipation of the tremendous clap of thunder that followed barely a second after. The echoing CRASH seemed to shake the entire van. It took Bucky’s breath away and he tensed up, hands grasping the rough fabric edge of the chair.

“S'just thunder, Buck.” Steve soothed after a moment, noting Bucky was holding his breath. Bucky didn't respond. “Hey,” Steve persisted, leaning forward a bit, trying to get a look at his face behind the hood, “Hey, you gotta breathe, Buck.”

But Bucky wasn't there. The shoulder that Steve nudged gently, the eyes that stared ahead at nothing, and the head that was ever so lightly shaking no please no wasn't Bucky at all.

Bucky was far away, sinking, watching the blue wavering surface of the water fall away from him as he was dragged down, meter by meter. He was too deep, too deep, and the water was getting colder with every foot he was pulled. His ears ached and he felt all the pressure squeezing his eyeballs in on themselves and it hurt, oh it hurts please let it stop, I don’t want this. The pressure, the pressure was all he could feel, tonnes of water pressing in on him from every direction. Behind his eyes and in his ears and lungs. He couldn't hold his breath any longer and the pressure forced it out, forced out the last thing he had, the last thing he was clinging to, and he couldn't even open his aching eyes to watch the air bubbles twirl their way up, the only way he wanted to go and couldn't. Water pressed in on his eyes like fingers trying to gouge them out, coloured white lights flashed and he struggled and shook and gagged and then CRACK and suddenly the hum of the deep water was just gone and his ears were on fire and his head felt like it was going to explode and there was no way out, and he knew he wouldn't get to the surface, they won't let you. He held his palms to his ears, felt nothing but the pressure behind his eyes and the burning in his chest and he couldn't control it, and suddenly water was filling his lungs and he was choking and drowning and-

And suddenly he was jolted straight back to the van and he was moving too quickly and the rain was too loud and lightning flashed and someone was holding onto him from behind and

“C-Can we s-stop” he managed, and to his complete surprise, he thought he heard someone say something affirmative in the distance and he felt the van begin to slow and the rain quieted and the grip around him loosened and the blur of space that surrounded him slowly slowly settled into a quiet clarity. The rumble and jolting of the van stopped, and he focused on the feel of the dry heat that blew weakly through the air vent, the grey shadows of raindrops moving clearly on the dashboard, and the voice behind him that was suddenly very close but he recognized it, and it was low and calm and .. Steve? It was- he turned to his right and looked and- yes it was Steve, he was here and Steve was here and he could breathe and hear and

“Are you okay?” Steve asked again, concern quietly lacing his tone. Bucky was breathing shakily and unevenly, alternating between holding it for seconds too long, or quick and silent shallow gasps that could only be clouding his head, but he couldn't stop, couldn't control it. He swallowed, looked around, opened his mouth to speak, said nothing, looked down at his hands.

Incredibly enough, he was still being subtle, his movements minute, the only indication of his struggling evident by his shaky chest, which was mostly concealed by the loose hoodie. Steve wouldn't even have noticed, if he hadn't been holding onto him gently to keep him steady. He pulled the hood back slightly to see Bucky's face, saw him clench his jaw and repeated the question, softer than before, “You okay?” and watched Bucky wrinkle his nose and chew his bottom lip roughly, seemingly out of frustration more than anything. Bucky closed his eyes tight and nodded, his head suddenly too hot, so he pulled the hood back and snatched the cap off his head. His hair stayed stuck in the loosely twisted form it had been pressed into for just a moment, before his uneven head movements shook it down.

He couldn't keep focused on any one thing, and Steve watched his eyes glance around trying to regain control. Steve looked at Sam, who was apparently taking this opportunity to rest his eyes and wasn't paying attention in the slightest, then back at Bucky.

“We- we can go. I…” Bucky quavered. He felt better, now that the van had stopped. He wondered briefly, what was it exactly that had triggered–

A flash of lightning split the air, farther out this time, off in the field over the hill. Oh. The thunder inevitably followed, but this time didn't come as a crack as much as a rolling bang. Bucky hummed in agitation, biting down on his lip, examining his hands. Steve leaned over to prod at Sam. He poked at his shirt and Sam swatted him away without opening his eyes.

“C'mon Sam.” he muttered.

Sam opened his eyes slowly, glaring straight at Steve.

“What.”

“Where are we going? You said you’d tell us.”

“Yeah well that was the plan until you two decided to conk out, get your beauty sleep” Sam then continued in a sarcastically mimicking tone, “Sam won’t mind if we curl up together and let him chauffeur us though the rain, I'm sure Sam is happy to drive in this weather on his TWO HOURS OF SLEEP” Sam shifted the van back into drive. Steve felt bad, not sure how to respond. He hadn't meant to fall asleep. But then Sam continued nonchalantly, “Natasha set some things up. There’s a town about an hour away, we’re supposed to pick something up.”

“Do you want me to drive?” Steve offered. He knew it was a weak attempt, too little too late, but it felt better than nothing.

“Uh? I'm not holding him?” Sam let off the brake for a second and the van started to roll, but then he put his foot back down and it stopped, moving them all forward. Sam looked at Bucky in exasperation, an are you ready to go? of sorts. Bucky blinked up at him, Sam raised his eyebrows, Bucky waved him off, and Sam let off the brake again. They sped up quickly, the clack of rain against the windshield rising in volume and intensity, the water on the road hissing as the tires sped over it.

-

Bucky never completely settled, and he ended up just leaning heavily into Steve (who was happy to have him, even despite the now curly chestnut hair that blew in his face). Steve felt like a space heater, keeping Bucky warm even through their combined five layers of clothing. He was strong and sturdy, but soft and easy to melt into at the same time.

Bucky’s arms were crossed for most of the next hour, holding himself together, being held by Steve, Steve who really didn't want to fall asleep again out of obligation to Sam, so he concentrated on Bucky’s soft breathing. And his nimble fingers that grasped the sleeve of the dark blue hoodie. And his tangle of hair. And the curve of his cheek bone that was dusted with faint freckles like light cocoa powder Steve hadn't even noticed until now. And the simultaneous blinding flash of light and the CRACK! of thunder that echoed in the static air, shaking the van and making all three of them jump.

Bucky’s stomach lurched, and he felt his heart beat like it was in this throat but he stayed present, just humming in extreme discomfort and dropping his head back, letting it roll to the side to rest somewhat on Steve’s shoulder. Steve tried to think of a joke or something but his thoughts were interrupted when Sam reached over and turned on the radio.

It was mostly static, but when turned up loud enough to be heard over the pounding rain, a tune came through and Steve recognized it, and even began to hum. Bucky actually couldn't even hear him, just felt his neck vibrate with sound against where Bucky’s head was resting. Sam turned the volume up a bit more when the static faded slightly, and Bucky thought the song sounded familiar. He didn't know it, couldn't place where he’d ever heard it before, but it was familiar. The lyrics started up after probably a solid minute of instrumentals. It was an oldies station, that much he was sure of. A woman's voice pushed gently through the fuzzy audio.

Never thought that you would be

standing here so close to me.

Bucky learned back, tilted his head to look at Steve, who leaned back to look at him and sang in a high pitched voice trying to match the woman on the radio, “There’s so much I feel that I should say,” but his voice cracked and he ended up laughing.

“Dude come on, you know this song? Is this the kind of stuff you listen to?” Sam interrupted, cutting off the next line of the song.

“Yes, actually” Steve said, then led right back into the song, “kiss me ONCE” (he plucked at Sam’s ear on cue) “and kiss me TWICE” (he pinched Bucky’s nose on cue) “then kiss me once agai–”

“ThAt’s enough,” Sam said, switching the radio station, mumbling about how he left his ipod at home while he flicked through varying pitches and volumes of static.

-

When they pulled into a minor town about forty minutes later, the rain was still going strong. Sam was leaning forward, squinting through the splattered windshield trying to make out the broken neon signs and ads that lined the streets. Steve did the same, his left shoulder in front of Bucky now, leaning away to see out the window.

“Remind me what we’re looking for?” Steve asked, only raising his voice enough to be heard over the drone of rain drops and the windshield wipers.

“A cooking and spice homeware store? Should be a big enough place to spot.” Sam answered. The van was going suspiciously under the speed limit on the main road, but fortunately there weren’t many cars out driving in the storm. They continued like this for ten minutes almost along the entire length of the town, all on the lookout for this homeware store, about to give up and find a phone to call Natasha, until Bucky piped up.

“What about that?” he said, pointing to a tiny shop building in the middle of a larger store’s parking lot. It couldn’t have been more than ten feet long and maybe twelve feet wide.

“Dude that tiny place is not a homeware store, what would you know about stores? You’re a fish!” Sam retorted, gesturing curtly with his right hand at Bucky’s lower half. That caught Bucky off guard and he couldn’t help but chuckle as he tried to explain.

“No, there’s a- ” (laughter) “a uh, a sign. Pinch of Paprika? Guys that’s just a front, it goes down. Look, see the sign?”  

Steve and Sam both squinted at the shop front and, sure enough, there was a sign in the window that said “Come inside, there’s plenty of space downstairs” along with a clipart of some orange pumps and… a black widow spider. That was usually their code name for Natasha when things got.. fun. Steve looked at Sam in amusement, Sam looked at Steve in disbelief, and Bucky was just happy he’d done something right. I mean that has to be it, right? We've gone through the whole town and that’s the closest we've gotten to a spice store. Where else would it be?

Sam pulled the van into the parking lot and parked in front of the sign. There seemed to be a few other customers here, judging by the scattered cars parked around the store. Unbuckling himself and zipping up his jacket, Sam looked sternly at Steve and Bucky and instructed them, pointing a finger.

“Don’t move.”

Steve gave him an innocently surprised “but I never cause trouble” kind of face while Bucky dramatically looked down at his lower half as if discovering for the first time that he was a mermaid(!) and looked back up at Sam, stunned. Sam just sighed and hurried through the heavy rain up to the shop door. He turned and shot them an I mean it look just before letting the tinted glass door swing close.

Steve and Bucky chuckled lightly at Sam’s humourless mood, but Steve knew he was tired and didn't want to make fun. He realized Sam had left the van running and they were less than a quarter tank full of gas, so he hopped over Bucky and into the driver’s seat, plopped down, and pulled the key out. The van motor silenced, but only gave definition to the rain hammering the roof.

They sat there in their separate seats as the air chilled around them, Steve assuming that Bucky would be glad to finally have some space to himself after all these cramped hours, and Bucky sure that Steve was tired of sharing a seat with him and must be glad to have some space void of Bucky after all these cramped hours. They were both wrong. And now they were both uncomfortably cold.

The rain turned to sleet, rolling over the van in sharp waves of shattering ice, the only sound between them. The windows started to fog up as they grew colder with the air, and Bucky loosely traced a few lines along the glass. Steve watched him silently, watched his fingers glide this way and that, the trails they left fading slowly back into the fog. Had Bucky ever done anything like this before? Certainly this was all new to him.

Bucky was really just trying to distract himself from the ache in his stomach, that he wasn’t sure was from hunger or anxiety now. He didn’t want to look at Steve, didn’t want to seem expectant, to impose on him somehow now that he had his own space.

The thunder rumbled through the clouds and Bucky licked his lips, chewed on them in irritation. He wasn't scared of the thunder or the lightning. In fact, he thought he might have rather enjoyed it if it wasn't for the constant risk of being taken back, being forced to remember ruptured eardrums and deep, dark, cold water. But so long as the terrible bangs and crashes stayed at bay, he should be fine. The low rumbles that echoed and rolled through the clouds and the hills were almost soothing, and he let himself relax for a moment.

-

About five minutes later, Steve saw a bright flash of lightning strike somewhere in the forest over a hill, and in a loose attempt to distract Bucky, he snatched the red cap from the floor and shoved it playfully over Bucky’s head just as the thunder reached them (though not as loud as he had expected).

Just glad to have the interaction, Bucky laughed and swatted at him, then grabbed Sam’s grey cap from where it was resting on the dashboard and pulled it down over Steve’s eyes.

“Aha-hEY” Steve complained, and shoved Bucky in the shoulder, sending him grabbing to catch himself before he smacked against the door. They both laughed, barely audible against the roaring sleet pounding the van. Bucky’s shoulder was leaned against the window now, and the cold seeped through the soft fabric of the hoodie almost instantly and sent chills down his back, making him shiver. Steve didn't notice, busy straightening Sam’s hat so it wasn't covering his eyes. He gazed at Bucky, fidgeting, wanting to ask him so many things now that they were alone. Like where did you come from? How did you get trapped in the aquarium? What did they do to you there? Why? Who really even.. are you?

Why are you so familiar?

But unless he wanted to shout over the weather and probably end up just scaring Bucky into thinking he was being interrogated, he should save this for later. Maybe write it down, yeah, I’ll write it all down, ask him when we’re safe at– wherever we’re going. So Steve reached back into his backpack and dug through his clothes until he found his new notebook, pulled it out and settled back into his chair. Bucky noticed, and reached into the glove compartment and handed him a pen before Steve even realized he didn't have anything to write with. Steve looked at the cheap blue ballpoint pen being offered to him, then up at Bucky’s placid expression, his grey blue eyes, the wisps of softly curled hair that the cherry coloured hat was keeping trapped in front of his face, the ever changing shadows from the window playing across his sculpted cheeks, and completely forgot what it was he needed the pen for.

“Are you, do you need this? I mean I thought you were gonna draw something but if you wanted to try drawing with your hand, that’s cool too..” Bucky teased, the corner of his lips curving up into a catlike smirk. Steve grabbed the pen from him and reached over and flipped Bucky’s hat around so it was backwards, securing the hair back behind his ears. Bucky gave him a surprised “Pfft. Thanks.”

The sleet lessened, quieting down significantly just as the shop door opened, and they both looked up to see Sam about to step outside. Steve dropped his notebook on the floor and swiftly hopped back into his seat with Bucky, assuming they were about to get back on the road.

Sam did not look happy. He shook his head and pointed at Steve, gestured a come here. Steve gestured at himself mouthing, “me?” but Sam just glowered at him, sardonically tilted his head like “what do you think” so Steve moved to open the passenger door. But he decided against it, not wanting to get Bucky wet, instead manoeuvring (less than gracefully) back over to the driver’s seat, and practically tumbling out the door onto the slick ground. To Bucky’s surprise though, he didn't lose his balance, and shut the door with a “be right back” kind of smile, and hurried into the shop after Sam.

And so Bucky was left alone.

Fourteen minutes passed peacefully, until he lost his train of thought and realised he was eyeing the notebook Steve had left on the floor, the pen resting a few inches away. After a rather awkward time of trying to reach down and pick it up, he was leaned in corner again where the chair met the door, the notebook in his lap. He glanced up at the store front, saw only the reflection of the front of the van in the glass, and opened the notebook.

He hadn't really meant to snoop. His intention was to have a go at drawing, since Steve was so good at it, he wanted to try. He thought of the many things Steve had written or sketched and had showed him through the aquarium glass, whether they had been playing a game or just keeping company. He wondered if some of those things were perhaps in this notebook, and he wanted to see them up close, without the distortion of inches of glass between them. What he found though, was a mostly unused notebook, about ninety out of the hundred pages blank. The first five pages were assorted supply and to do lists, phone numbers, times, loose scribbles of vans and trucks that Bucky connected to how Steve and Sam had apparently planned to intercept the aquarium truck that was transporting him.

Had Steve wanted him to find this? To further evidence that this was all done out of good will and sentiment? Bucky glanced back up at the shop front, fighting back the idea that this was all a sham. He took a deep breath and turned the page to find a drawing.

It was Sam.

There were two sketched portraits, the first one of him looking off in the distance, about as majestically stoic as a falcon. He looked as if Sam knew he was being drawn, and had posed for it. Or he was just being Sam. The second had him turned away, laughing. There was a label on the side that said in Steve’s all cap writing, “Somewhere in Pennsylvania? (Jan 5th)”

It looked as if Steve had managed to sketch this before they caught up to the aquarium truck, in the van or wherever they were before they left. Bucky wondered where Sam lived. Steve had talked about him before, always seemingly with admiration and thankfulness to have him as a friend, giving him small details like how he liked marshmallows in hot chocolate but not whipped cream, or how he organised his running shoes. But Bucky realised he didn't really know much about him.

He turned the page expecting to see more of Sam, but instead

…who…?

The face in the drawing was so unsettlingly familiar that Bucky's stomach flopped. It was two more sketched portraits, though neither was smiling, both dead eyed with long, wet hair clinging to their faces in dark strands. There was an eraser smudge on the bottom portrait’s face where the mouth should have been, where Steve had perhaps not had time to finish or just couldn't get right. But the top one was all there.

He knew this person.

It was right on the edge of his memory. Bucky was practically pleading with himself, “I know him!? I know him! Why do I– Where do you–” when he noticed the circled note on the side.

“Found him in a bag sedated? Unresponsive”

A clap of thunder made Bucky jump, but he gritted his teeth against the shock and turned the page, his heartbeat racing.

He was met with the same man’s eyes in two more portraits, but this time they were expressive, the top one smiling, the bottom one looking anguished, his eyes full of despair and his hair dripping wet.

…It can’t be… He isn't…

The first one looked to be sitting in… a tub maybe? Steve’s writing next to him said “Sunrise Bargain Motel (Jan 6th)”

That was last night.

The sleet turned back into rain and thickened, the windows completely a blur with splattering raindrops on the outside and fog on the inside. The cold air and the roar of sound buzzed through his head, he felt dizzy. The second sketch was labelled “Aquarium (Jan 4th)” with an eraser smudge under the 4.

…but this is…

Now in a panic, Bucky pulled down the sun visor, where he somehow knew there should be a mirror. Sure enough there it was and there… there he was. A face so familiar he didn’t know how he could've forgotten it, a face that reminded of so many things that he couldn't even specify. Like seeing shadows move in the corner of your eye, hearing your name being called just before you fall asleep, and turning to see but nothing is there. Like opening a box and smelling something sweet that fills you with a nostalgia from years ago, but leaves you grasping blindly to remember when or where or who.

Bucky was staring wide eyed at himself in the tiny mirror, touching his face, looking down at the notebook and then looking back at the mirror, screaming silently, “HOW COULD I FORGET? HOW COULD YOU FORGET WHAT YOU LOOK LIKE? WHY DIDN'T YOU KNOW?” But his reflection stared back, just as scared as he was, and he could swear he could taste and feel the colours and shapes that flew through his memory in a storm, but as much as he tried, he couldn't grab anything to make it clear and solid, like everything was just out of reach. He felt suddenly so complete and yet completely empty.

He slammed the sun visor back up to the ceiling, breathing too fast, too hard, but he couldn't stop. He wanted to run, swim, get out of this suffocatingly small space, but he couldn't, he couldn't. Trapped. You’re trapped.

He could hear his pulse in his ears, feel it in his stomach. His breathing echoed hollow in the cabin while his eyes darted around searching for something, anything to help him. The cabin grew smaller and the air grew colder and he ran out of places to look until he saw the notebook still sitting in his lap, looking like it was ten feet away. The page was still open to the black and white pencil scratches that looked like him but he couldn't see it, didn’t want to see it. Couldn't stare back at the eyes he knew were his. He shakily grabbed the book and flung it to the side, not caring where it landed, but assuming it would hit the driver side door and land in the seat.

Instead, it hit Steve smack in the face right as he opened the door in the middle of a laugh.

“Hey!” he said as he caught the notebook, thinking Bucky had seen him coming and threw it on purpose. He hadn't. Bucky barely noticed he was here now. Steve climbed in, focused more on getting in out of the rain than on Bucky’s face. Sam jumped in after him as soon as there was space, but since Bucky wasn't moving out of the way for Steve to sit down, they ended up awkwardly half sitting, half standing, not much space to move. “Bucky?”

Sam groaned, “move” and prodded Steve forward, so Steve sat halfway on the edge of the passenger seat while Sam sat down and tossed a new backpack onto the floor just behind the curtain. It landed with a solid clunk against the metal floor.

“Buck?” Steve persisted. Bucky let his hands drop from where they were hiding his face, blocking out the light, letting him forget he existed, just trying to calm down since Steve was here again apparently. Mostly collected now, he took a deep breath and glanced at Steve, nodded at the notebook in his hand.

“You uh, you drew me?” he observed weakly.

Steve suddenly felt very self conscious. He fumbled for words, maybe flushed a shade darker than he was before. Or maybe Bucky imagined it. Bucky took the chance to move himself over enough so Steve could sit comfortably next to him. Steve hadn't asked why the notebook had hit him in the face yet, so Bucky threw in a casual question for good measure. Think about this later, just think about this later. Figure it out later.

“So how’d it go?” he asked Sam, but it was Steve who jumped at the opportunity to change the subject.

“Picked up all the papers Natasha got for us. Now we can get across the border to Canada hopefully without a problem.” he answered, then tilted his head and continued, “I've told you about Natasha haven't I?”

“You did one time I think. You called her fun. Said she set you up on a date with someone?” Bucky offered, leaning back to better see Steve’s face. Steve was leaning his right shoulder in front of him now, and Bucky was glad to have the weight grounding him there, but it was harder to see his face than when they were side by side. So he could have been mistaken when he thought Steve looked completely crestfallen for an instant before putting on a smile and looking at him.

“Yeah, that’s her. Not the date, I mean. That was.." his eyebrows knitted for an instant before he waved off the rest of the sentence. "But yeah we uh- haha we got what we came for, didn’t we Sam?” He said, his sentence broken by a chuckle and ending with mock enthusiasm. Sam didn’t look at him.

“Yeah you're lucky your foot was still swollen. But we are never talking about this again.” he declared. Bucky looked at Steve, who was biting his lip and shaking his head trying not to laugh.

“What did you guys do?” Bucky wondered. Sam glared ahead as he turned the ignition, making the same face as the serious Sam in the notebook sketch. The other images flashed in his mind, so he concentrated back on Steve, putting off the thoughts of himself. He wasn't sure exactly who he was, but he knew he could at least be who Steve thought he was. Later, figure it out later, when you’re out of the van at least.

Steve turned back and whispered near Bucky’s ear, knowing Sam would object if he heard, “I’ll show you later.”

Later.

Chapter Text

Two hours.

Two hours in the chilly van, bumping and swaying along, pressed up against (a very cushiony and warm) Steve. Two hours of listening to assorted staticky stations on the radio as the rain and sleet traded shifts beating down on the van. Two hours of staring at the grey dashboard, at the small air vents, at the moving crystal patterns on the windshield. Two hours of concentrated breathing, of soft conversation, of not wanting Steve to worry, of really hoping he would. Bucky concentrated on thinking about anything but himself (well. who he thought was himself after his experience with the mirror), and so consequently his hazy trail of passing thoughts mostly consisted of Steve. Time passed, Sam drove, Bucky breathed, and Steve watched them both.

Steve had been an art student, before all this. He had even worked in a museum once. So naturally, when Steve looked at someone, he saw the lines and curves and shades and colours of them, saw beauty in uneven hues and tones, in wrinkled eyes and wiry hair, in fallen eyelashes and scrunched noses. Like how right now, the uneven light that bounced from the wet, green forest flying past outside them was reflecting through the raindrops on the windshield onto Sam's forehead, under his eyes, down his nose, and avoiding the steep shadows of his cheeks and smooth lips. Steve could see the stormy sky through Sam's dark eyes, shaded by his eyelashes that fluttered occasionally, irritated by the air coming through the vents. He'd been awake for hours now.

"You sure you don't want me to drive? I'd be happy to drive," Steve offered, not the first time on this leg of the trip. He wished Sam would let him. Sam had done so much already. But Sam just glanced his way, raised eyebrows and half smirk, full of whatever dedication was driving him. Steve expected him to turn down the offer, so he was surprised when Sam shut his mouth and looked back at the road, made a "well why not" face as he was thinking it over, and turned to Steve and replied.

"Yeah, you know what? I might take you up on that. I could really, really use some sleep." He started to slow the van, aiming to pull over to the side of the road in order to switch places with Steve. Bucky shifted slightly, and Steve loosened his grasp on him so he could readjust.

"You know that means you get to sit with me, right? " Bucky drawled through a half smile, joking, but not actually sure how he felt about this. He liked Sam. He really liked Sam, he trusted him almost as much as Steve, but Steve was different. Steve was a warm and blue shallow sea that he could reach the white sand at the bottom of without having to go under. Steve was blue marble eyes and soft words like clouds and strong arms like the pull of a gentle current. Sam was... not like that. Bucky trusted him, of course, but the steep difference between trust and effortless comfortableness wasn't one easily climbed. 

He really did like Sam, but all the same, when the van was stopped and Sam was climbing over him to sit down in the empty space Steve had left, he couldn't help but feel uneasy at least, unwelcome at most. Steve scurried around the front of the van through the rain, swiftly hopped inside, and adjusted the driver's seat to better fit him while he settled in. Sam almost immediately pulled his hat down over his eyes intending to sleep, his shoulder leaned against the door, arms crossed. Bucky tried not to touch him, not wanting to bother him, holding himself stiff on the very edge of the seat. However, after Steve started the van rolling forward and rolled over a few bumps while speeding up, both Bucky and Sam seemed to realise how unsteady his position was.

"I won't bite" Sam said, his eyes concealed by the visor, his tone deadpan.

"That's not what Steve told me," was instantly on the tip of Bucky's tongue, but he stopped himself just before he said it. What was that supposed to mean? Where did that come fro-wHY?

"Uh. Great. That's good," he said instead, silently trying to grab hold of the memory attached to the words that was dangling in front of him. Had he said that before in some other.. life? The memory had a nice feeling to it, whatever it was. A bump on the road sent his hands reaching for something to hold onto, and in the same instant, Steve was blindly reaching over to help him.

"I mean you're gonna fall over, fish boy. Try actually sitting on the seat," Sam said. Bucky chewed his lip and looked down, then tried to figure how he could sit closer to Sam without actually sitting closer to Sam. Sam sighed, and made a casual motion with his hands that Bucky didn't understand. He looked up at him. "Come on, dude don't make me say it." Bucky still didn't quite understand, and Steve was glancing over every few seconds, amused. Sam rolled his eyes, "Just give me your..(sigh).. Move your tail over here."

Once they were comfortable, more or less, with Bucky's tail moved all the way over to Sam's corner of the seat and Sam's legs resting over him with his shoes within reach of Steve's elbow, Sam pulled his cap down over his eyes again and went to sleep almost instantly. Or so it seemed. His arms were crossed again, so at least Bucky didn't have to worry about accidental hand touches or anything.

The rain and sleet combo lessened as they drove, farther north and farther into the afternoon. Bucky looked at the faded digital numbers of the clock display.

3:15.

"How much longer are we going, anyway?" Bucky asked, not specifically to Steve, but not really at all to Sam. Steve seemed so far away suddenly, like they hadn't ever been sitting in the same seat at all. They had, hadn't they?

But Steve just assumed Bucky was asking Sam, and so he didn't say anything, because honestly, he wasn't sure how much longer they would be driving.

Bucky looked at Steve, looked at Sam, looked back at Steve. Something felt off anyways, and nobody was acknowledging him. Had he actually said anything, or just thought of saying something? And as someone who's habits were mostly based on existing behind glass and being completely alone, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to tell the difference, anyway.

Only a few seconds had actually passed before Steve nudged Sam's feet, and repeated what Bucky had asked.

Oh.

    ...Is this how you're going to be, now? 

Sam grumbled something along the lines of about another hour or two and we'll be at the border, and wake me up before that so I can get ready. Steve thanked him, and they settled back into silence. Bucky eventually fell asleep watching Steve's hands on the wheel.

-

"Hey hey, Buck, look at that."

Bucky awoke to Steve gently shaking his shoulder, and no rain to mask the noise of the road. In fact, it was much brighter out than when he had gone to sleep. They were still making their way on the road that cut straight through a tall evergreen forest, but the shades of green and brown seemed so much more vibrant now. The flat cloud cover was gone, replaced by colossal thunderheads and patches of blue.

"Hold on, the road will curve around up here," Steve added. The road was smooth, and sure enough up ahead, it sloped down and to the left behind the trees. Another car came out of nowhere up the hill and zoomed past them, making Bucky's heart jump. Steve seemed unfazed, leaning his head down to look up at the sky through the windshield as they rounded the corner. He smiled. "There."

Bucky leaned forward to see what Steve was looking at and, oh that's nice, a thin strip of colours rounded a line across the sky. Bucky glanced at Steve, who was multitasking watching the road and gazing up at the clouds. Just out of Steve's vision though was another, and so Bucky pointed it out.

"Hey there's... another. Over there, see?"

"Oh wOW!" Steve said when he saw it, looking at it longer than a driver should. "That's incredible!" He was so enthralled by it that Bucky chuckled lightly.

"What, you've never seen a double rainbow before?" he said, watching the road while Steve wasn't. He must have said something wrong though, because Steve's eyes instantly lost interest in the clouds and we're now alternating staring at the road, and at him, perplexed.

"Have you?" Steve questioned after the fourth glance.

Bucky opened his mouth to counter with something, of course I've seen a double rainbow Steve, but-

Had he?

He shut his mouth. He didn't know.

-

About the exact time Steve asked Bucky to wake Sam up, Bucky was starting to wonder again about Steve's intentions with him. He's with the aquarium, Bucky thought, he's one of them. He's testing me to see what I remember. To see what I'll tell him about what they've done. That's what you did wrong. You told him about a stupid rainbow. He knows you remember things from before, now. You messed up. That's why you've felt sick since you said it.

Or maybe it was the hunger. Maybe the hunger was feeding his paranoia. Maybe his paranoia was adding to his hunger. Either way, he was very hungry and very anxious by the time Steve spoke after another ten minutes of quiet, and so the result was Bucky nearly jumping out of his skin. Steve looked at him, alarmed.

"Hey, you okay? I'm sorry I- didn't think you were asleep?" he said. Bucky shook his head and smiled at him, raised eyebrows and bitten lip. Later, think of it later.

"Nah I uh.. So are we close? Sorry, what did you want?" he stammered.

"It's okay, Sam told us to wake him up when we're close and-" Steve pointed out ahead to a border guard gate, "We're close. Would have warned you sooner but.." his voice trailed off. Bucky nudged Sam's elbow, was met with a "yeah yeah" and then Sam's legs started to readjust as he leaned away from the corner he had been squished in.

As Sam busied himself with digging around the backpack they had obtained at their recent stop, Bucky looked ahead at the border gate. The trees alongside the road had begun to spread out, so it was in the middle of a large clearing. The red gate stretched over the road like nothing more than a very official looking toll booth (two of which they had passed on the way). Sam seemed to have everything he needed from the bag, and so he leaned back in the seat again, three passports in his hands. He looked nervous, if that was something Sam could do.

"Let's just hope they don't notice we don't have three seats up front," he muttered. Bucky tried to pull his tail around a bit so it wasn't as stretched out in the cargo area of the van, and scooted over so it would look a little more like he wasn't sharing a seat. He heard a box get pulled along behind him when he moved, remembering he was still attached to the water filter.

"We're gonna get stopped, what if we get stopped? They're gonna make us get out of the car and-" he started worriedly.

"We won't get stopped," Steve assured him. "We're just sightseeing, staying the week with some friends for a wedding near the lake. Just stay calm, it's okay. See, look how busy it is," he gestured ahead at the line of about ten cars in every lane that were stopped, waiting to be passed through, "they won't want to cause a hold up for no reason."

Sam laughed at that. "No reason? I'm sorry, do we not have a reason?" he broke in, gesturing at Bucky and, more specifically, the tan drop cloth that his entire lower half was wrapped in. The backpack fell off his lap and onto the floor with a dull metal clang when he moved his arms. Seemingly surprised at the noise, Sam reached down and felt around inside it as Steve slowed the car to wait in line. "Ohh shoot. Okay. Is there anyone behind us?" Sam asked. Steve looked in the side mirror and reported that there wasn't. "Okay hold on I gotta-" he muttered as he climbed over Bucky and through the curtain into the back space, dropping the backpack on his way. Steve watched the mirror for upcoming cars, not sure why it was important. Bucky busied himself with looking as not suspicious as possible, pulling his hoodie down as far as it would go to cover the canvas, running his hands through his hair so it wasn't as messy, then deciding to just twist it up and put it under the cap again. Some strands refused to be tamed, and rested softly in front of his face.

"Do you want a mirror?" Steve asked quietly, his eyes not leaving the window. They heard Sam open the back doors.

"Uh.. Sure, yeah." Bucky decided, not wanting to seem out of place, not wanting to give anything away about what he might know, despite his uneasy relationship with mirrors so far. Maybe if he just didn't look at it this time. Steve reached past him and pulled down the sun visor, flipped up the tab covering the mirror, and then returned to watching for cars. The line moved up, and the van rolled forward very slowly, Steve taking care not to lose Sam out the back. Bucky eventually willed his eyes up to the small mirror, and was vaguely surprised when his eyes met his reflection and nothing happened. He saw himself, nothing more, nothing less. He fixed his hair a bit and brushed an eyelash aside from where it was resting on his cheek, but other than that... Nothing was wrong. Or something was. Something was right or wrong or different but it was still all the same. He squinted, wrinkled his nose at his reflection, and then sighed, closing the visor. Something was off.

Metal bumping metal and clanging and some mild cursing were heard from the cargo part of the van, and Bucky finally turned to look at what Sam was doing back there. He was on his stomach, his head and arms hanging out the back, messing with the.. license plate? Of course, that was what he found in the backpack. Natasha must have packed it along with whatever else was in there and Sam had simply overlooked it.

"There's a car coming, I think. Sam?" Steve said as the line of cars moved forward. "Can I move?" he called back to Sam, who was cursing slightly louder now.

"Yeah, go!" Sam called back, and the van started to roll forward a moment before Sam closed the doors. He made his way ducking back to the front and leaned in in the space between Steve and Bucky. "So I had an idea about your tail," he said after a moment, his breathing slightly heavier. There were seven cars ahead of them until the stop.

They probably should have done this sooner.

-

Harold Hogan could not be having a nicer day. The sun had come out, the birds were singing, and he was very fond of the chilly weather. He loved his job, the hours passed by smoothly and, so far today, incident free. He wished some travelers well with a smile, and opened the gate to let them on their way.

"Welcome to Canada!"

The next vehicle in line was a medium sized work van, white and totally plain. The only windows in front were slightly tinted. The van pulled up slowly, stopping just a bit too far in front of the line, and then the window was rolled down to reveal a -well- a very nice looking man. He was smiling, and just as Harold was about to greet him, he held a finger up to his lips and then pointed with his thumb to his two passengers, who were leaned in on each other sleeping, sharing a blanket. The wind picked up, so he only barely heard the man when he spoke in a hushed voice.

"Sorry, it's been a long drive. How are you?" he asked smiling, and Harold swore that even under the shadows of the overhead cover, he could see the sky reflecting in this man's eyes.

"I'm doing just great. I'll need to see your passports and probably check in the back of your vehicle," he replied dutifully.

The man handed him three slightly worn passports, but his smile dropped a bit when Hogan asked him if they traveled around a lot. He only hummed a response.

"What's the nature of your visit?" Hogan asked, keeping his volume down so as not to wake the man's friends. The dreamy looking man informed him that they're attending a friend's wedding, and then they would be staying about a week. "Alright I just, need to see their faces, to verify their identities," Hogan said, leaning out of his booth door to try and peer closer through the window. The man leaned back, reached over and slightly lifted the hat visor on his friend to reveal a -well- another very nice looking man. That was.. that was the picture in the passport alright. "Alright and uh," he glanced down and opened the second passport, then looked back up into the van, "his hair..?"

"Oh right, yeah uh," stuttered the nice looking driver, and he reached over and carefully pushed aside the fluffy brown waves of hair blocking his other friend's face, and, well, uh, this one was slightly harder to verify because his face was so smushed against Pretty Boy Number Two, but, no, no the eyebrows and dark eyes definitely matched. Hogan smiled and pulled out the third passport, opened it, and held it open in the air against the nice looking driver, comparing the photos. He joked, making a doubtful 'hm' sound, and the man smiled brightly in response.

"Aha! That's you alright. Okay now I'll need to see in the cargo area." Hogan said, already leaving his booth on his way to the rear van doors. The blonde man nodded, quietly opened the door, and followed. "Uh oh, your license plate has a uh, a loose screw there. It's about to fall off." Hogan informed the man when he got there. Normally this would be deemed reprimand worthy, but Hogan was feeling especially cheery today, not to mention this man's manners were more than enough to compensate for a minor issue like this.

"Oh wow, thanks for noticing that," the man said, his pleasant voice full of relief as he opened the doors. "I'll be sure to fix that as soon as I can, thank you." Hogan smiled in return, then did a brief look around of the back area, which was actually surprisingly empty. Just two backpacks, some small cardboard boxes and a- a metal trash bin? Hogan asked to see what was in the bin, and was almost surprised to find it was apparently full of blankets. He lifted out the top blanket to find a quilt, and reached past the quilt and only felt more fabric, so he replaced the folded blanket and closed the lid. The man joked that they were low on boxes when they packed, hence the trash bin. Completely understandable.

"What's in the boxes?"

"Party supplies. Lights, balloons, fun stuff," the charming tall man said. The wind picked up again, making the man shiver in his jacket. Leaves tumbled past their feet, scratching and scraping whenever they met the road. Hogan smiled, having obviously no reason to keep this man any longer, he was tempted to make one. But that would be unprofessional. He put a hand on one of the doors to close it.

But...

As a man who spent an abundance of his time near and around cars, he was quite certain that that specific humming noise he heard was not from this type of van. What if the engine was having trouble? What if it was about to give out on this nice man and his nice looking friends? It was a long ways away until the next mechanic shop.

He took another glance into the back of the van, and noticed a clear tube running from underneath the curtain that led to the cabin, to a box that seemed closer to the humming noise than the engine did. It was dark in the van, and that was probably nothing. But the license plate needed to be tended to anyways, and his shift was almost done.

"Would you pull over? Just ahead? There's a small parking area, I'll be with you in a few minutes, then you can be on your way," he told the nice looking man, who very politely complied.

What a lovely day.


-


"Bucky? It's okay, I don't think he'll check up here, he was really nice."

Countless faces of what were arguably "really nice" people flashed through Bucky's mind before he could stop himself, none of them being faces he ever wanted to see again.

"Buck? Can you hear me? It'll be okay, I'll get us out of this."

The van was parked, and someone was coming. Hours and hours of being stuck in the moving van and now there was nothing he wanted more than for the van to be moving again. Bucky's mind tugged away slightly, trying to pull the rest of him away to safety by itself.

"I just gotta know you're here, Bucky, please?"

Here. Here sounded like a place not worth his time. It could wait. He'd make it wait. Someone's voice continued to find him, but the words spoken slowly lost any meaning or weight, as he absently watched them blow by.

"He's coming now, just, don't panic, and pretend you're asleep. Like a minute ago? That was great. Just sleep."

"I've got him, you just handle the guy. Absolute worst comes to worst, knock on the van twice and I'll jump in the driver's seat, then once you're in we'll be out of here. But that's worst. Please do not do that."

"Thank you, Sam."

"Please."

"I'll do my best."


-


Steve left the van running, and quietly slipped out to meet the border guard that was making his way over to the shaded lot they had parked in. He very much hoped that a bright smile and calm demeanour would get him through without any further complications. Since Sam had switched out the license plate last second, they had also used the other drop cloth from the back to stretch between the two front chairs, making it look (if you didn't look too hard, and if Bucky didn't press on it) like there was a third seat in the middle, back rest and everything. Steve had pulled the van up far enough when they went through the booth that the guard hadn't seemed to notice that at least. Nevermind the lack of a seatbelt. Or Bucky's entire lower half. If the guard wanted to have a look up front again, they were cooked.

Steve just hoped whatever license plate number they had now wouldn't create any new problems for them either. What if the man ran the numbers, would he find a well traveled plate that Steve didn't know the story for? No, Natasha was smarter than that. He'd be able to think of something. Still, there were too many ways this could go wrong, and they all ended with Bucky being dragged back to some terrible place against his will and Sam being detained. Boy, this sure would be some news story; 'Two men steal mermaid, take off for Canada. Caught by border patrol guard when he asked them to step out of the van.'

Or would there even be a story? With the so called 'aquarium' that was so shrouded in mystery and concerning efficiency, the three of them could just as easily be captured and swept right off the face of the earth. There would be no record of any of this ever happening, and they'd never be seen again. Their whole lives erased.

Or maybe that was what happened to Bucky in the first place.

"I brought you a screwdriver, and there was something a little funny sounding about your engine, mind if I have a look?" the man said, and for the first time, Steve looked at his name tag.

"Of course, ..Happy."

'Happy' smiled brightly in response, and looked to be about the most genuine stranger Steve had met in quite some time. But, oh, he'd have to unlock the front hood from the inside of the cab. "Here, I'll-" Steve started, as he rushed to open the door, unlock the hood, and close the door before 'Happy' got a peek inside.

Once the man was actively poking around the engine, Steve realized, "You know, I didn't notice anything strange the whole way here," which was, weirdly enough, the honest truth. They hadn't had a bit of trouble with the van, a silent fact they were all three of them afraid to be thankful for just yet.  What was the guard on about? It hadn't even registered to Steve yet what the man had inquired, because he was simply too eager to comply. That might be a mistake. Just be casual, you're not doing anything wrong. Nothing at all. Just a trip north for a wedding. It's cool, be cool.


-


"We got stopped, why'd we get stopped?" Bucky muttered, audibly more nervous than usual, but keeping his volume low. Someone opening and closing the car door had brought him back a bit too fast, a gust of cold air having blown in and opened up the space more than was comfortable. Now he had to face his situation in full, but at least he wasn't alone, like he should be. "Nobody else got stopped, why did we get stopped?"

"Welcome back, fish boy."

"Shut up."

"They're just gonna tighten the license plate-"

Bucky let something of a sarcastic laugh escape. "And why ever would they need to do that?"

"You try switching plates while you're in the moving car."

"And remind me why we couldn't have done that earlier?"

"I hate you."

Of all times, it had to be now that Sam and Bucky were stuck like this, leaning in on each other. Bucky's head on Sam's shoulder, Sam's head resting on the top of Bucky's, both wrapped in a blanket, eyes closed, pretending to be asleep, the imminent risk of arrest and detainment never dangling as close as this.

This was great.

This was just great.

Concentrating on the humor of the situation helped Bucky stay calm though, and Sam's less-than-fondly delivered remarks were actually quite reassuring. But only because it was Sam.

"What are they doing up front?" Bucky asked quietly, having let his eyes flutter open, to see the hood of the van opened up and blocking the windshield. The van rocked slightly every few seconds from someone leaning on it.

"He said he 'heard something funny'? Don't know what'd be wrong though." Sam replied. "Unless...he heard the...uh"

"The water..filter..?"

"Shoot."


-


"Everything looks to be in good order, maybe I was mistaken. But would you mind if I check in the back one last time? I heard it better back there," Happy inquired, and Steve thought he sounded slightly unsure of himself. Or unsure of them. Though his tone wasn't suspicious, only slightly bewildered. But what was he talking about? What if he wasn't mistaken and was on to something? Either way, now he wanted to check in the back. Steve needed to be careful. So instead of directly responding, he backed up a step to make a slight show of peeking inside the cab through the window, to "see if his friends were still peacefully sleeping," hoping to remind the man subtly that they had their own lives they needed to get on with.

But he was still standing there, waiting for an answer, for permission to investigate their van. Steve could say no, couldn't he? He could probably solve this whole problem right now by being a jerk and telling the man that they had places to be, and to get back to his job instead of mindlessly holding people up.

If he could just... be a jerk... tell the really nice man its fine and they would like to get back to their trip now... just... nice and simple... you're a New Yorker, Rogers...


-


"There, they're going around back, hurry. Can you reach it?"

Bucky was stretching as far as he could down to reach back, under the drop cloth serving as their middle chair cover, trying to grab at the box that contained the small motorised water filter that was connected to the big industrial strength plastic bag that was keeping his lower half from drying out. Ugh.

"You know, I don't bend quite as perfectly as you do around the hips, k? This hurts," Bucky struggled through gritted teeth, feeling around blindly for anything. He yanked his tail forward as a last resort, and -thank goodness-, it tugged the box close enough for him to pull it forward under the curtain just as they heard the rear doors open. Bucky froze, still leaning over, trying not to fall sideways into the empty middle space under the drop cloth. Sam grasped his arm and helped pull him back up, even scooted over a little so it wasn't so much of a strain for Bucky to stay in the chair. Bucky brought the running filter up with him, mouthing, "Now what?" since they both knew the guard was only a curtain away, listening for whatever he could discern. Couldn't exactly just switch it off now.

They heard Steve behind them, doing his best. "I don't hear anything weird," he offered. But the man didn't seem convinced.

"No it's still- would you try turning off the engine and then restarting it? Or do you have anything running back here? I could-" and then Sam and Bucky felt the van shift slightly, like someone had leaned on the back, about to hop in. Oh no.

"NO it's okay I'll just -ahem- restart it. Just wait here, it's okay," Steve interrupted, and they heard his shoes scrape on the road as he hurried to the driver's door. He apparently slowed himself, remembering his two sleeping friends were in here, and opened the door gently.

Sam and Bucky both waved at him and pointed at the black rectangular water filter in Bucky's hand. Steve mouthed an "OH" as he glanced at the sagging drop cloth, trying to think fast about how to handle this. He made eye contact with Bucky, made a "kill it" gesture near his neck, and then held up three fingers, which turned to two, which turned to one, and then he turned the key to the engine and shut it off, at the same time Bucky turned off the filter.

Steve and Bucky silently thumbs up'd each other at the same time, both in turn immediately amused at this. They didn't need to look at Sam to know he'd probably rolled his eyes. Steve restarted the van, and Bucky set the filter back on the floor, intending to resettle into the previous napping position on Sam, who was a bit more reluctant.

Steve let the door slowly fall closed without latching, and returned to the guard at the back of the van.

"Huh. I don't hear it now."

"Maybe it was just running for too long.?" Steve tried, sounding innocent.

"Yeah.. I guess. It shouldn't be like that though. I'd get it checked out next time you get a chance."

"I'll be sure to do that." Steve said, audibly smiling.

"Sir." There was a slight pause, and Bucky assumed they shook hands.

"Thanks for your help." Steve said.

"Oh it was a pleasure. A real pleasure meetin-er-Helping you. Helping- I hope you have a great stay, er, visit." the guard managed, understandably flustered. Who wouldn't be flustered by Captain Steve Rogers? Especially when you were wrong about something.

Bucky just hoped he'd let them go now. They seemed to be in the clear.

They heard him walk away, and a moment later, Steve was at the door again. His eyebrows raised, he looked as if he were about to say something like "let's go" or "well that was close," but he didn't get the chance before the guard had turned around and was walking back towards them.

"Hey, would you mind getting your friends to step out of the van?"

Chapter Text

Steve was already hopping back in the driver’s seat, debating on whether it was worth pretending he hadn’t heard the guard just asking him to get Bucky and Sam to step out of the van. The very very likely possibility of of their plans crashing and burning caught up to Steve in one swift hit, the sudden realisation of looming failure coming over him, and maybe giving him what he needed to solve this problem. It was either this or the worst, wasn’t it? He had to do whatever he could. But still without arousing suspicion.

So Steve thought better of flooring it (only because Sam and Bucky were with him) like he wanted to and just getting away with them, but instead turned around in his seat, to openly address the guard (and also to hinder his view into the cabin as much as Steve’s broad shoulders would allow).

He wore his most sincere guilty smile when he said in a low voice, “I wouldn’t ask this normally, but… Can we not?”

“Do you have a reason otherwise?” ‘Happy’ replied, seeming slightly less happy now.

Steve grimaced. “My friend’s got, uh, well he hates car rides.”

“I’m sorry to hear that?”

“I mean he can’t handle it, at all, so when he finally let us give him something to help him sleep, we just-”

“What’d you give him?”

“Benadryl.”

“Uh huh. Well I’m sure if he just stepped out for just a moment he’d go right back to sleep once you’re on your way.” He smiled, still fully intending to have a better look up front. He wasn’t sure why the cargo area would be separated by a curtain if there was a third seat.

Steve grimaced, hoping to seem like at least he didn’t want to be argumentative. “He’s handicapped. So it’s not..quite that simple, I’m- I’m sorry.”

“No no, it’s.. I see.” The guard stepped back, absently observing some tumbling leaves, realising a handicapped man obviously had to be sitting in a middle seat, and deciding that maybe going above and beyond his professional duty wasn’t worth the emotional strife to the very people he’d wanted to protect and serve with his job as a Canadian border patrol guard. Although he realized something else too. “But he doesn’t have a wheelchair?”

-

“Good to know I have a 'thing against wheels,’ Steve,” Bucky said, trying to calm himself by dryly poking fun at Steve. That was… that had been really close. He didn’t want to do that again.

“Among other things,” Sam added. “Don’t forget those 'other things’.” He took off his ball cap and tossed it up onto the dashboard. “And you don’t have to lean on me anymore, fish boy, we’re free.”

“Right, sorry.” Bucky mumbled, realising he was still holding Sam’s arm to keep his balance. “Er, can you–” he struggled, trying to untangle himself from the blanket that was keeping them stuck together. Sam pulled it up over both their heads and flung it into the back, the static from it filling Bucky’s already frizzy hair. He tried to pull it back and twist it up, but it only stuck to his hands. He let his hands fall back to his lap in frustration. His stomach ached. How long had it been since he’d eaten? Was it really only yesterday that they had stolen him away from the aquarium? That part of his memory was pretty blurry, to say the least. Seeing as he’d been sedated for most of it.

He poked Steve’s elbow for no solid reason other than he wanted to, and surprised himself when he got shocked instead.

“Ah!” Steve winced, then he laughed lightly, the first he’d spoken since they’d taken off again. “We’re gonna need to stop for gas soon, but it shouldn’t be much farther after that. I know that was close, Buck I’m sorry.”

“A little, yeah.”

“I know you gotta be hungry-”

“A litTLE YEah,” Bucky interjected.

“Do you want to trade places?” Sam offered, uncharacteristically soft to match Bucky’s uncharacteristic snappiness. He was offering to give Bucky the half of the chair next to the window, which would not only be easier to stay steady on, but also mean a small measure of personal space. Small, but still.

But the car was moving fast and his hair was full of static and the hunger was giving him a headache and the grey sunlight through the clouds was too bright and cold. But he knew he could suck it up long enough to be okay if he stayed as still as he could. That seemed to be how it worked. 

“I’m fine.”

“Suit yourself,” Sam muttered, as he leaned back, intending to go back to sleep. He realized too late that his cap had been lost to the blanket when he had pulled it over their heads, so he had nothing to cover his eyes with. It didn’t stop him though, as he was soon dozing off quietly.

-

The next hour or two (or three) passed in slow disconnected periods of sleep for both of them.

Bucky blinked awake when he felt the van slow and pull into a gas station. He watched Steve wordlessly park the van and as quietly as he could, step out. He didn’t remember what happened after that.

Sam’s head made contact with the cold window when they hit a bump and his elbow slipped from where it was resting on the door. He mindlessly gazed at the trees they were zooming past for all of ten seconds before falling back to sleep, while thinking about how long it was probably going to take him to get back to sleep.

Bucky woke up a different time to find that the van was stopped on the side of the road and Steve was missing. Someone was shuffling around through boxes in the back. When Sam saw Bucky was awake, he called backwards for Steve to "just bring the whole bag instead" and so Bucky decided this had nothing to do with him and it would be easier for all of them if he just went back to sleep. Steve felt bad, having food when Bucky couldn't. He knew what the answer would be if he offered Bucky part of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and the consequent "no" would mean making it Bucky's fault. Bucky was pretending to sleep anyways, so best just leave it. But he wanted to offer so bad. Sam must've seen him turning it over in his head though, because he caught Steve's wandering gaze and silently shook his head 'no'.

"We'll get there soon," Sam said.

-

“Hey, we’re here,” Steve said.

Bucky gently awoke to the van pulling into a very neatly landscaped drive. Up the hill ahead, could see a grand hotel, obvious in luxury and class, but modest enough to not stand out sorely from the landscape.

“We’re staying there?” Bucky asked, incredulous. This place sure was a big step up from the Sunrise Bargain Motel. As nice as the prospect seemed though, how were they expecting to keep a low profile in a place like this? Sam stirred next to him, finally having opened his eyes.

“Ohh..”

“This is the place, right?” Steve asked him, glancing over at Sam, suddenly concerned they might just be lost.

“No no, this is it.” Sam replied, after reading the ornate sign on the side of the drive. 'The Big Lake Resort’ seemed to be a rather plain name, but Sam supposed that putting a resort right next to a lake called 'Big Lake’ didn’t leave much room for creativity. Whatever it lacked in name though, it surely made up for in quality, evident by the numerous garden staff walking about and the consequently leafless yards, perfectly pruned ornamental trees, and seamless flower patches. As they neared the circular drive directly in front of the resort, they all three seemed to realise at the same time that just getting Bucky inside the place would be quite a task. Especially since the parking area was nowhere to be seen.

Bucky had been initially excited to finally get where they were going, until it really hit him that this was no permanent solution. He didn’t know why he hadn’t really thought much past this point so far. He hadn’t really considered that anything they did now would really all just be one problem to see through, one puzzle to solve after another. He thought back to the border gate, and how slim their chance had been to get out of that once the guard had happened by some chance to ask just the right question. And then how ridiculous the solution had been that got them out of it unharmed. “A thing about wheels” being the exact words. Just a suspicion, a concern, put to rest by a fake story, a tone of voice that was too genuine to be a lie, a shoulder turned at just the right angle to hide something important, a stranger’s friendly appeal for empathy. Every action and reaction was all ridiculously thrown together and somehow ended up giving them the results they wanted. It gave Bucky an idea.

Steve pulled the (what they all now felt was an extraordinarily out of place) van around the loop in front of the entrance, and stopped. He stared ahead, wondering what to do next. How had Natasha thought this was a good idea? This was the right place, right? He would have driven down to the parking lot, but the small road that went down the hill surrounded in greenery that he assumed lead there was blocked by passcode operated gate. He could only imagine the kind of rich people cars that were parked down there. He stared ahead, at a loss. How could they get a mermaid inside a five star hotel?

“A wheelchair.” Bucky said quietly, but with some measure of determination. “I could just use the handicapped story, right? Like you did earlier? I mean it’s not exactly.. false..”

“That could work,” Sam said. “You’ve got quite the legs to manage that with, though.”

“So I’m thick. I mean it’ll be hard, but do you have any better ideas?”

They sat in silence for a minute more. Sam tried to think of a better idea, Bucky tried to weed out the flaws in his idea, and Steve wondered how Bucky knew so much about the world outside of the aquarium, while also trying to think of a better idea. Bucky was the first to speak again, but more nervously this time.

“I mean you guys, ever since you got me, you haven’t had a solid thing planned that you’ve completed. Not yet, at least. I mean from what I’ve seen, you’ve just been making it all up as you go along..” Even as he was speaking though, he heard the easy arguments to be made against what he was saying (“that doesn’t mean we should keep doing it, Bucky” and “we haven’t had the time”) He wasn’t making sense. Did he have a point? Get back to the point. “..But I mean we’ve made it this far alright.”

“Man, Romanoff better have had a plan for this, I’m just gonna go check out inside,” Sam said, and made to get out of the van. Steve watched him straighten his clothes and rub his face a bit on his way before going in.

“He’s still wearing my jacket,” Steve realized out loud. Bucky hummed a response, now certain that his plan must be pretty bad for Sam to walk out in search of anything else. Steve continued more quietly, “Actually now that I think about it, that used to be his jacket before it was mine.”

Bucky looked at him, the first time he’d been alone with Steve in the quiet for quite some time. It was nice, he thought. Pretending that nothing was wrong was so easy when he was with him. So easy that it wasn’t much like pretending at all. It felt safe. Steve turned and pulled out the key, and the van went silent.

Birds chirped outside, and the chilly late autumn air started to seep into the van again.

“So is it officially his again?” Bucky joked.

“I kinda hope not I mean,” Steve shrugged, “It is my favourite jacket.”

“You do wear it a lot, yeah” Bucky laughed, and Steve looked at him, smiling. Bucky fiddled idly with his sweatshirt sleeves. He couldn’t decide whether it was better to roll them up for comfort or keep them down for warmth. Which seemed to be a very familiar dilemma, when he thought about it. He could feel Steve's eyes on him, but it wasn't uncomfortable. He maybe licked his lips for no real reason other than that. 

“It was a good idea, you know,” Steve said after a moment more, and then continued after Bucky looked over at him questioningly. “The wheelchair? It’s a good idea. And you’re right, about the rest of it too.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“No, no I understand. I agree with you.” Steve was still looking at him, but it had changed a little, like his gaze had collected itself and actually wanted to say something. “I mean I haven’t been all that great about planning things out. Everything’s just been happening so fast and it’s hard to know exactly what to expect and– and I can’t really imagine what it’s been like for you! And I owe you better than that and I’m sorry-” (“Steve, you don’t owe me anything. I can’t tell you how thankful I am that you even exist and ever talked to me, you didn’t have to do anything like this for me,” was what Bucky wanted to say,  what he would have if Steve had left a pause in his words for Bucky to say it in. But he was talking so fast now,) “because you didn’t ask for any of this, and none of it is your fault but the reason it’s working, I think, the reason we’ve gotten so far is because there hasn’t been choice. For me, anyways. And I guess not for you either, but I just,” Steve took a breath and shook his head, looking around, a smile tugging at his words when he continued, “when we were speeding away from the border, or I was filling the car up with gas, or driving past a lake, and you two were falling asleep right there in the passenger seat, I guess I finally realized that.. everything I could ever-”

Sam knocked on the window and made them both jump. Steve rolled down the window.

“Good news is, they already had a wheelchair reserved for us, along with a really special room surprise that you’re not gonna believe.”

Steve laughed. “So she thought of the wheelchair thing too, huh? Bad news?”

“Bad news is, they have to valet park the car, so I want to clean out anything weird before we hand it over. Which is…most of it,” Sam finished.

Steve looked at Bucky happily, eyebrows raised. “Better get going, then.”

-

The hardest part was probably settling himself in the wheelchair in a way that made it less obvious that he was an almost nine foot long mermaid. Shape wise, at least. So the top half of his tail was hanging down and resting on the footrests, where it looped back up and then more or less around him. At least they learned that Bucky didn’t need the water filter running all the time, when they realized it hadn’t been running since they switched it off at the border. But the big plastic bag was still a noisy hassle that he needed to hold tight around his waist or else it might spill, and Sam didn’t want him going inside wrapped in a drop cloth so they did their best to cover him with their nicest looking blanket instead. The end product was an uncomfortably settled Bucky that looked lumpy and unbalanced in all the wrong places, but reasonably human. It’s not like any normal person would think he was anything else, anyways.

But just to be careful, they piled a few bags on his lap to further help disguise the shape of him.

It was oddly familiar, being wheeled around, Bucky thought as they approached the front doors. It was nearing the evening, the vibrant yellow sun hidden behind the main resort building, everything its light not touching shaded to be some variation of blue.  Sam walked ahead of them, through the automatic doors, and into the lobby.

It was certainly more luxurious looking on the inside, with ivory coloured columns stretching up from the black and white tiled floor to meet the arched ceiling, which was masterfully painted a marbled blue. The wheelchair bumped just slightly every few feet when they rolled over a new tile, just offbeat to the quiet instrumental waltz playing from some hidden speaker system. Sam walked directly and casually to the front desk, to hand the smiling young man behind it the keys to the van. Meanwhile, Steve had rolled Bucky to the elevator to wait for him. Bucky caught some elderly couple (who were lounging nearby drinking coffee) staring at him, and he smiled. They looked away, still conversing. It reminded him vaguely of the aquarium, being something to look at but not really to acknowledge. He didn’t like it. But he knew it was probably just because their clothes and bags were so out of place in a high end place like this. 

Steve and Bucky heard Sam politely decline something before joining them by the elevator. He held up their room key and told them they were going down before pressing the button. They only went down one floor before the doors opened and another guest stepped in with them. They pressed the number five button before standing back and leaning against the wall, arms crossed. Bucky concentrated on holding his posture and the bag and the blanket too much to really notice if they were staring too.

Down one more floor, and the three of them wordlessly stepped out of the elevator. Sam led the way down the spacious hall past one door, before looking at the number on the second door and sliding his key in. 

“Woahhh..” Bucky mumbled, upon seeing the inside.

The hotel room wasn’t really a room at all, it was a suite. An averaged sized but ornate living room area with French doors that led into a finely decorated bedroom,  and a small kitchen area just off to the side. It all looked nice, but Bucky knew he’d be spending his stay in the bathroom, so he was anxious to see the tub.

“Yeah, let me just get the bags here,” Steve responded to his request, and unloaded everything from his lap. Sam was half sitting on the bed, watching them.

“You ready to swim again?” he asked Bucky as Steve pushed him by and on to the bathroom. Bucky thought Sam just meant being in a tub instead of a bag, and to be honest his experience with bathtubs thus far had been less than comfortable, but as long as he wasn’t alone he’d be happy. Bucky thought Sam wasn’t sure if Sam knew that or if he was joking or what, but he was definitely smiling a little wider than he should have been. Bucky turned the latch to the bathroom door and they looked inside.

The first thing they saw, of course, was the decently sized claw foot tub near the far wall. It was white porcelain and looked about four or five feet long by two feet deep. The water faucet and knobs were all chrome, and there was a lightly patterned curtain, that hung from a round track on the ceiling all the way down to the floor, that could be pulled around to hide the tub. There was a standing shower in the opposite corner made of frosted glass and chrome, and a toilet and sink that matched the tub. There were navy coloured bath mats on the floor that Bucky noticed matched the colour on the ceiling. This was certainly the nicest bathroom he’d ever seen.

Steve had moved ahead and had already started messing with the tub controls, before Sam stepped in and said, “That won’t be necessary, you know.” Bucky tilted his head back to see him leaning on the door frame just behind him. When asked what he meant by both of them at the same time, he responded, “Don’t you want to know what the room surprise was?” Steve straightened up and looked at him questioningly, while Sam pulled Bucky backwards back into the living room. “See the curtain in the bedroom on the- gah you’re heavy-” Sam struggled, trying to push Bucky forward towards the bedroom now while Steve passed ahead of them, “on the left wall?”

Steve saw it, pushed it aside, and light flooded into the room. But that wasn’t right, Bucky thought. There’s a window on the wall in the bedroom opposite the door, and it’s letting in light and there’s clouds out there, so what’s through there? They didn’t have a room on the corner of the building. It couldn’t be a window. Steve looked at Sam, completely and pleasantly surprised.

“What?” he asked, laughing. He looked at Sam and back and when he moved to open it, Bucky saw it was a sliding glass door. But where did it lead to? Sam wheeled him closer and Bucky saw that it led to a room with floor to ceiling windows on the outside wall, a picturesque view of far out mountains and the wide lake below.

And, oh. A pool.