"Hey," Bucky said, catching Brock as he rounded the corner.

"Hey," Brock said, tensing a little. Bucky was staring at him in ways that was making his gut tell him to run like hell.

"So. You and Steve."

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I mean I guess that means you and I are gonna be hanging out." Bucky kept staring. There weren't a lot of people who could make Brock flinch with just a look. "And I mean, I really am glad we cleared up... you know."

Bucky gave him a terrifying smile. "What's a little torture and brainwashing among friends?"

Brock went a little pale.

"Don't worry about that, though," Bucky added, tilting his head. "We're both reformed now. Both on the right side."

"Yeah. I know I have Steve to thank for my second chance," Brock said warily.

"Yeah, that's the kind of guy Steve is. He looks at you, sees the best in you. Sees the guy you could be, not the guy who betrayed him."

"Which is why I would never betray him again," Brock said. He was no idiot. He knew where this was going.

"I know you won't. Because Steve sees the good in you. You know what I see?"

Brock shook his head.

"I see you in a chair, tied up with your own intestines. I see your body parts torn off and sewn back in the wrong place, particularly the body part you care about most. I see pinning you to the wall with a spike through your tongue, I see hot metal going in places it should never, ever go. I know that HYDRA medical scared you, Brock. All those tests on pain and recovery you watched them do to me. But I have a much more vivid imagination than they do. I will keep you alive for years, but you will be so much less comfortable than I was."

Brock swallowed. He willed himself not to shake. You didn't get to date Captain America if you couldn't stand up to a little sheer fucking terror. From a superpowered assassin. Staring at you like you're meat. "Like I said, I would never betray Steve again."

Bucky narrowed his eyes, then relaxed his jaw, smiled, and clapped Brock on the shoulder. "Glad to hear it, buddy." He walked away as if nothing had just happened.

Brock just leaned against the wall and tried to catch his breath.

"Homemade, Hardison," Nate reminded him dryly.

"What?" Hardison protested. "Are you calling this beautiful, lovingly crafted, personalized safe cracker storebought?" Hardison glared.

"It's meant to be a romantic gesture," Sophie interjected. "Homemade means something homey and--"

"And that personalization isn't a good idea," Nate added, gesturing at the words 'Parker 2000.'

Hardison kept glaring and started muttering about underappreciated genius.

Sophie and Nate exchanged looks. He had asked their advice on a romantic gift for Parker, but clearly he'd passed the point of interest in further advice.

Nate shrugged. Sophie nodded.

"Good luck," she told the hacker.

Nate chuckled. "You'll need it."

Yet, but...Hmm, yes, I think this could be doable...

"I was thinking dinner and a movie."

"Dinner and a movie?"

"Dinner and a movie," Steve confirms. "Or a movie, then dinner." He manages not to look embarrassed about it for all of about ten seconds before he ducks his head. Jason is always amazed when Steve gets awkward around him – someone who's done as many things as they've done, on and off the field, shouldn't have a shy bone left in their body.

"No theater?" Jason teases. "Opera? You know, I'm from Gotham, where even the criminals are classy as shit. I expect a higher caliber of dating."

"Jay," Bucky speaks up. "My first 'date' with you involved a fire escape and a bottle of vodka that I'm pretty sure was left there by somebody else."

"And there's still a SHIELD agent or two scarred from walking in on our first 'date'," Steve adds.

Jason shrugs. He left shame somewhere in a puddle of blood a long time ago. "Yeah, but it was expensive vodka, I think. And at least a fire escape has a decent view."

Steve sighs. Jason ruffles his hair, just to fuck with him. "You know," he says. "When I was a rich dude's ward for like, thirty-five seconds, I was treated like a little prince. I can't help if you Brooklyn punks don't understand class."

Steve and Bucky exchange a look, the kind that Jason generally interprets as something along the lines of this fuckin' guy. He's cool with it, because it means someone's focused on him.

"Well," Bucky says. He's looking at Jason now, the kind of look that sort of makes Jason feel like a human target, but not in a bad way. "Our second option was just to tie you up on the bed and take turns, but Steve thought we'd go traditional. Dinner, movies, popcorn…"

"I mean," Jason clears his throat. The room is suddenly very warm. "Who says we can't have both?"

*

They pick a movie without too much gunfire or loud noises, something that won't make any of them inclined to spend the whole time critiquing fight scenes for being unrealistic. Jason doesn't exactly focus on the plot, since his tongue is in either Bucky's or Steve's mouth for most of it, but he assumes it's better than Madame Butterfly or whatever.

Dinner's another story. There's salad and breadsticks, even a bottle of wine that Bruce Wayne wouldn't turn his nose up too high at, but midway through the meal there's the all too familiar crash of glass and sound gunshots, and Steve made Jason and Bucky promise to leave behind heavy weaponry so it's his own damn fault that most of the cutlery ends up being used to fight some Court of Owls assassin that Jason apparently pissed off the last time he was in Gotham.

“So what are you in for?”

Bucky lifts his head. He doesn’t do the whole ‘talking to people who aren’t Steve’ thing very often, but he’s pretty amped up on adrenaline and it’s the ER so who knows how long he’s going to be sitting around bored out of his skull, bleeding to death. “Just need to get stitched up,” he says, turning his flesh and bone arm over, showing off the deep gash in his forearm that he’d been holding against his stomach.

“Nice,” the guys says, sounding pretty impressed. Bucky has to admit, he wasn’t expecting that. It’s a pretty gruesome wound; his shirt’s completely soaked through, but then the other guy doesn’t look much better.

“Looks like we’ve both had an interesting night.”

“Yeah,” he grins, rubbing a bruise on his jaw. “Some chuckleheads thought they’d hustle me at pool.”

Bucky lifts an eyebrow.

“Okay, so I was the one hustling,” he laughs, eyes flickering with something bright and dangerous. “What about you?”

“Oh. Uh.” The thing is, Bucky doesn’t really remember how it started. He remembers feeling like he was crawling out of his skin just sitting around Steve’s apartment, so he went out and looked for the shiftiest looking dive bar downtown he could find and well, he doesn’t actually remember what happened after that, really, just a flurry of fists and knives and somehow the other guy actually got him once, got him pretty good too if the buckets of blood he’s lost is any sign. “Just a stupid bar brawl.”

“Mmhm,” the other guys says like maybe he doesn’t quite buy it, but he isn't going to press. “So -”

“Jason Todd,” the nurse opens the door and shouts his name.

“That’s me,” the guy -- Jason, stands up. “Hey, this probably sounds nuts, but there’s an awesome diner right around the corner and I don’t know about you, but getting my ass kicked really works up an appetite. You wanna get a bite after we’re both all patched up?”

Bucky laughs out loud, just burst out laughing like he hasn't done in far too long; it’s possible he’s delirious. “It does sound nuts,” he says, and ow his ribs are bruised and it really hurts to laugh. “But it sounds great.”

“James Buchanan,” another nurse calls and Jason just kind of stares at him for a moment. Bucky thinks oh crap, yeah he totally just blew that, but then the expression on Jason’s face fades and he’s smiling and patting Bucky on the shoulder. Which: fucking ow.

“See you on the flip side,” he says and gives Bucky a little salute as the nurse leads him to the back.

Bucky's grinning the entire time the nurse is stitching up. She looks to be in her fifties or so, probably someone's grandma by the disapproving looks she keeps giving him.

"And just what in the world do you have to be smiling about?" She asks, incredulous.

"I think I made a friend."

"Well, good." She says. "Maybe this friend can help keep you out of trouble."

The thing is, Bucky's pretty sure he's not.

He can't wait.

Makes grabby hands

Someone please do this justice like I wish I knew the characters well enough to.