fist_of_hydra | Snarky ColdWinter #2

Snarky ColdWinter #2

The team had been arguing for a while now, and getting nowhere. They'd narrowed Savage's location down to Italy in September of 1944, but couldn't get any farther than that. James thought he had a pretty good guess what Savage wanted - this was where HYDRA had most of their facilities, and the Red Skull would be the perfect ally to Savage.

The only people who would have any further intelligence about Savage's possible movements were the Allied or Axis forces. Neither were going to hand the information over to a bunch of strangers. Ray wanted to play dress up and march in, pretend to be an officer and demand the information. Sara wanted to go in at night and steal it. There were half a dozen other ideas floating around, and all of them were bad. Quite a few of them were likely to get them shot at.

Ray might be onto something, though. At least, if you turned your head and looked at the idea sideways. Trying to march in and claim to be an officer nobody in the camp had ever seen was asking for a swift visit from the MPs.

Marching in and claiming to be an officer everyone in the camp had seen was another matter.

James had been lurking by the doorway, as was his habit, rather than sitting around the table with the others. He hadn't been contributing, so he was able to slip out without inciting comment. Once in the hall, he strode toward the fabrication room. "Gideon. Do you have any footage or photos of me in uniform in this time period?"

"Of course, Mr. Barnes."

"Good. I need a copy made, and make sure it looks worn and used. Can you do that?"

"Certainly."

"Then do it." James strode into the fabrication area, where a uniform was already synthesizing. He paused, looking at it, and rubbed a hand over the scruff on his chin.

Five minutes later he strode back toward the main room. It felt odd to be back in this uniform. Gideon had even managed to make it smell right - which was to say, like blood and gunpowder and harsh lye soap. Even stranger was not feeling his hair brushing against his cheeks and neck. He hadn't had short hair since HYDRA took him, and he found he already missed it long.

This wasn't him, anymore. It felt like the ghost of Bucky Barnes was riding his shoulders, and the weight was pressing him down.

"...are we supposed to do, walk in and ask them nicely?" Sara was saying, her tone full of exasperation as she threw her hands up at Ray.

"That's exactly what we're gonna do." James rose his voice enough to cut through the babble. Everyone turned to look at him, and most of them did a wide-eyed double-take. He raised an eyebrow at them. "It's just a matter of the right person doing the asking."

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The purred comment earned him a slightly nervous sideways look from Bucky. For a moment it looked like he was worried Len would try something with him, but his words showed differently a moment later. "That, uh, friend of yours isn't going to take exception to me getting too close, is he? 'Cause he was growling every time I got near you, and he strikes me as the type I really don't want to piss off."

He slid down into the hollow. There was just about enough room for the two of them if they didn't mind getting close, which was just as well since they had to anyway. Hopefully, it would warm up quickly with body heat, or they'd both be missing some fingers and toes by the time they were found.

Groaning, he settled himself on his knees, packing the branches against the sides and bottom. The dirt was just loose enough that he could press them in, not so much he was worried about it collapsing on them.

Len smiled with true amusement at the question. He looked up at the sky, grinning, and then turned that expression on Bucky. "Oh, don't worry. He would never hurt you."

He turned and began to gather up branches, laying them over to disguise the hollow from casual view. When he was done, he bent and crawled inside with Bucky. "How're you doing?"

"Depends. Do you have a twin brother who showed up recently?" Bucky squinted at him, trying to focus so there was only one of the man. "I'll be okay, I've been through worse. What about you, are you hurt?"

He shifted to make room, but they still ended up pressed close together. Which was just as well, because the shivering wasn't making his headache any better, and it really was their only option for getting warm.

"Bumps and bruises." Len slipped his arm around Bucky. He knew he was probably making the other man uncomfortable, but he didn't actually care that much. One day, James wouldn't even remember this, and wouldn't be uncomfortable about being close to Len anyway.

He snuggled in closer. "You know, I like the cold usually, but this is a bit much even for me."

"Not real fond of it, myself," Bucky admitted, his voice wry. He was stiff against the other man, holding himself awkwardly, but didn't protest the closeness. If anything, he hitched himself closer as well, shivering. "You're sure about that fella of yours, right?"

He was half joking, but it was a real concern. Between that and the proximity, he could hardly stop thinking about the whole thing. Or maybe that was the concussion talking, because his brain did seem to be wandering in strange directions.

"You two really don't give a shit, do you?" he asked, shaking his head. "Don't care who knows. Aren't you worried about, you know, being discharged? Arrested? Neither of you are fairies, not even close, so how does that even work?"

Though Len didn't really worry about these things much, it was still good that Bucky wasn't freaking out about being close. Being warm was more important, and it was key that Len keep Bucky safe. Little was more important than that.

"Oh, I'm sure," he murmured. "He might look like an attack dog, but trust me, he's a softy inside that armour."

He shifted to get comfortable on the hard ground, drawing Bucky against his shoulder, and laughed softly at the comment about fairies. "No, I don't care who knows, and I don't care about being arrested. But I'm not sure I understand your question. How does what work?"

"Well, who... I mean..." Bucky's brain finally caught up to his rambling mouth, and he shook his head. That proved to be a mistake, and he squinted as the world spun for a moment. "Never mind, none of my business at all. Ignore me, I think the head injury is making me stupid."

Stupid enough to keep talking, apparently. "It's just... you guys don't fit anything I know about... that kind of thing. The area we grew up in, it was pretty rough. Lotsa mob bars, places that catered to that, ran pansy acts. Fairies hanging around by the docks, looking for johns. So it's not like I don't know how it works."

Len might not be ashamed of who he was, but he didn't know a lot about how homosexuality was viewed in the forties. He wasn't surprised by Bucky's discomfort, but what he heard sounded completely different from what Bucky meant.

"You think I'm a prostitute?" he exclaimed, more baffled than offended.

"What?" Bucky stared at him. "No, Christ, that's not what I... How the hell did I even get into this conversation?"

He had only himself to blame, and he knew it. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose, pained from more than just the concussion. "I'm just saying, usually it's a fella and a fairy, seems like. Which obviously, neither of you are. So I can't figure out how it works, but it's none of my business, like I said."

Len blinked at Bucky for a few moments in utter incomprehension before he just resolved this strange terminology into something like 'top' and 'bottom' and decided to move on from there.

"First of all, you're the one who got curious, which is why you're in this conversation. But to answer your question - James and I trade off," he said finally, because he didn't give a fuck about keeping that a secret from James himself, and he wasn't about to get prissy about it. "We're both control freaks in different ways, so we switch it up. That help?"

They traded off? Bucky tried to wrap his mind around that. All the dirty jokes and snide innuendos he'd ever heard implied it was one guy who took the woman's position, the one people said made it 'wrong' and 'unnatural'.

No denying either of these two men were absolutely men, though. James could practically give Steve a run for his money, and while Len was a little more... flamboyant... he was still very masculine.

"Well, I still think you're both crazy, just flaunting it like that, but it's your lives." He shrugged, and tilted his head back to rest against the branch behind him. "But I guess if it works for you, it works."

[Just a reminder note to us when we're editing that we want to do an A/N on this chapter to give the readers some more information about how homosexual sex was in the 1940s.]

"Who's gonna arrest us out here in the woods?" Len pointed out with a smirk. "And who's gonna arrest us when two of our friends can set themselves on fire? Don't worry about our skins - we're not nearly as crazy as you think."

There was an urge to poke the bear, to ask Bucky if he had ever thought about trying it out. But even Len wasn't that cruel. Not right now, anyway. Maybe later, if he got bored enough.

But before he could decide to do it, he realized that the younger man was snoozing, head still tilted awkwardly back against the branch. Len drew him closer and Bucky curled against his chest, warm and protected.

Len kept his eyes on the skies through the criss-cross of branches, and hoped for the sight of wings or flame, or the rushing sound of the Atom's thrusters.

The battle took far longer than it should have. The HYDRA troops had reinforcements, men not in a HYDRA or Nazi uniform. James picked off as many as he could from a distance, then closed in and did what he did best - acted as a killing machine.

In this company, he wasn't the only one capable of doing so, either. He heard the distinctive whine of Len's gun to one side, Rory's flamethrower on the other. Saunders was in the air with Firestorm, and Sara was covering Palmer while he got his gauntlets on so he could use the weapons. Hunter appeared to have decided that since none of them were bothering to use their period-accurate weapons, he wouldn't either, returning fire with his laser pistol instead.

By the time the dust settled, even James was breathing hard and sweating. He'd taken a couple of shots, a graze on his thigh and a through-and-through on his right bicep. Both would heal quickly enough that he wasn't worried, though they'd slow him down a bit until they did.

Glancing around, he did a quick head check. Palmer and Sara, Rory and Firestorm, Saunders and...

Swearing, he looked again, harder this time. "Where's Len?" he demanded, heart squeezing in his chest. "Where the fuck are Len and Barnes?"

"Over here," Rory grunted, picking up the cold gun and pointing at an icy patch... at the edge of a cliff, James discovered when he made his way over. There was a clear path of broken branches and disturbed dirt where someone - or maybe multiple someones - had tumbled over the side and into the river far below.

No matter how James strained to see, there was no sign of them in the water downriver.

Saunders was hovering just below the top of the treeline, hanging over the ravine where she'd be better able to see. "Nothing," she reported, swooping back and landing beside them. "They must have been swept too far downriver to see."

"Then we're going after them." James turned on the others, daring any of them to argue with him.

Apparently, Hunter was stupid enough to take the dare. "The extra troops must have been Savage's people," he said. "If Savage is already working this closely with Schmidt, our top priority has to be stopping that alliance at all costs. Mr. Snart can take care of himself, and clearly Sergeant Barnes is just fine and will remain so."

Mick snarled and pointed his gun at Rip. It charged up with a whine as he pointed it at their captain's head. "You're just fuckin' gonna abandon Snart and his pretty-boy? What if he's drowning right now?"

Hunter crossed his arms. "Of course we'll come back for them, but at the moment our priority needs to be..."

James flipped his long knife into his hand from the sheath on his thigh. When he took a step forward to stand beside Rory, he didn't need to say anything. The message was clear. He was not leaving his lover behind.

Sighing, Hunter ran a hand through his hair. Apparently, for once, he recognized a battle he couldn't win. "Oh, very well. The two of you hunt downriver for Mr. Snart and Sergeant Barnes. Head back to the ship after, and either we'll meet you there, or Gideon will give you our current coordinates."

Mick glanced over at James when he came to stand beside him, and gave him a fierce grin of pleasure - all teeth. "For once we're on the same side, huh, pretty-boy?" he growled gleefully. "Let's go."

He turned his back on the rest of the team immediately, starting in the direction he judged to be downstream.

James turned as well, and waved at the others as he went... the wave might have involved a single finger sticking up, aimed at Hunter.

"I'm going to check near the water, watch for any sign of them coming out," he told Rory. "You stay up here, keep watch for any patrols or things I might miss from too close." He started to step off the cliff, then paused and held out his hand. "Gimme the freeze gun, might help me get across the river if I need to. Nothing says they came out on this side."

Mick rumbled a laugh at the sight. He loved it when James proved he wasn't stuck up.

He had picked up the gun, but hesitated at James' request. Thing was, it was obvious that Len would want James to have the gun. So he reversed it and offered the handle.

"You gonna jump?"

"Slide," James corrected, taking the gun and clipping it to the equipment harness across his back. He could draw it quickly if necessary, but it should take the least battering there as he went down. "Looks like it gets shallower downriver, at least, so you should be able to meet me there. Let's go."

He jumped off the ledge where the ice was, leaping from point to point down the hill until he reached the bottom. Crouching, he examined the point where Len and Barnes had gone into the water. "There's blood on a rock here," he called up to Mick. "One of them hit hard. Let's follow it downriver."

Standing, he headed down the bank with an expression as cold as anything the gun could produce. He was getting Len back, if it killed him.

Snart had been waking Bucky up every so often, checking to make sure he hadn't passed out completely from the concussion. What the guy thought he could do if Bucky had, he had no idea.

This time he came awake all on his own, though. "Did you hear that?" he blurted out, forcing himself upright. Somewhere, not nearly far enough away, there was shouting.

In German.

Len had heard it, and had in fact been listening to it for a while. He growled when Bucky suddenly sat up. "Shush," he hissed, grabbing the younger man around the shoulders and putting a hand over his mouth.

"If you can hear them, they can hear you," he whispered, his lips brushing against Bucky's ear.

Right. Good point. Bucky froze and went silent, ears straining to catch the German questions being called back and forth. His knowledge of the language was pretty spotty, but he knew a few words. They had to be pretty confident they were the superior force in this area if they were giving away their position like that, which meant it was a big group.

Far more than he and Snart could hope to take, with hardly any weapons between them. Bucky had a tactical knife, that was about it, since he'd dropped his gun on the way down. He hadn't seen any sign of Snart's fancy ray gun, either. If they were found, they were so screwed.

Unfortunately, it sounded like the patrol was heading right for them. Maybe they were just coming to the river for water?

Yeah. Because his luck was ever that good.

Len's arm tightened around Bucky's shoulder as he waited tensely, listening as the Germans got closer. Though they were somewhat screened, there was no way even a casual search wouldn't find them.

"We're trapped like rats," he hissed, drawing a gun from his boot and gripping it tightly.

Bucky drew his knife, futile as it was. He tried to pretend his hand wasn't shaking subtly. Being taken captive by HYDRA a second time was pretty much his worst nightmare - literally. The first time had been bad enough, when he was just a random Army grunt.

Now that he was a Commando, and specifically on HYDRA's shit list? It would be so, so much worse.

"Nothing for it," he replied, just as quiet. "If they find us, I'll go left, you go right. At least we'll go down fighting." He swallowed. "Try not to get captured. Try really hard."

Len looked at Bucky penetratingly. "No," he growled. "No, we are not going down today."

He grabbed Bucky by the front of his uniform and got in his face. "Listen to me. I know what HYDRA can do, but I also know that if we get captured, my team will go to hell and back to rescue us. We will get rescued. So you have to promise me - promise me, James - that you will not die."

Bucky stared at him, wide-eyed and incredibly confused. What the hell? Where had this intensity come from? Snart was talking like it mattered to him, personally, if Bucky died.

And, James? Yeah, that was his name, people called him that in the Army sometimes, but Bucky hadn't introduced himself that way. Wasn't that the weird guy in the mask's name?

"Steve will come for us, too," he agreed, subdued but with his hands steadying. "We just have to hang on long enough, if they do get us." He just had to keep reminding himself of that. Steve had come for him once, when it should have been absolutely impossible. He'd do it again, now.

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