Chapter Text
"Put the paper down, Steve," Bucky says. "Got places to be."
"Yeah, yeah," Steve says, and checks his watch. "We’ve got five minutes yet. An article in here calls us villains, can you believe that?" He’s set his jaw and he looks, why does he look upset? Is this news to him? Bucky bites back on the impulse to tear the paper from his hands and explain to him exactly what their lives are. What the fuck. This is the last time he lets Steve finish up the local research over breakfast.
"Uh, yeah," Bucky says. "Since we’re about to go and gut an old SHIELD base in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere Ohio, crossed my mind once or twice. You got your clip?"
"Yeah, yeah," Steve grumbles, and gets to his feet, but he’s not done yet. "Come on Bucky, SHIELD are evil. They’re like cartoon bad guys. We’re just people. I never even killed a civilian yet and they go about startin’ wars.”
"Pretty sure nobody thinks they’re the bad guys, Steve,” Bucky says. He doesn’t mention that he definitely did kill a civilian that time, even though he didn’t mean to, because it happened all the same and it wouldn’t have if he hadn’t been there, and he has to live with that. He finishes pinning his hair up and then checks that he’s got all of his guns and knives strapped to him. He runs his hand along his inner thigh to check for the last one, and he’s done, but Steve’s just standing there all useless, so he sighs and starts to pat Steve down for his knives and all that too. It’s not as exciting as it could be, as Steve doesn’t seem to acknowledge that Bucky’s touching him. Bucky claps his hands onto Steve’s chest, and at last Steve looks up, but he’s still preoccupied. Worst fucking villain I ever met, Bucky thinks to himself.
"I mean, I know the Avengers aren’t exactly callin’ us up," Steve says, sadly, "but…"
"Steve," Bucky says, crouching down to check that Steve’s got a knife on his shin, and resisting the urge to do something inadvisable with it, "maybe you write the local paper a postcard when we skip out of Ohio."
He spins his last gun around in his hand and shoves it inside his leather jacket, and then he zips it halfway up. He tugs on Steve’s sleeve to pull him closer, and he does some of Steve’s jacket’s buttons up for him, and then pats him on the cheek. He’ll snap out of it before they get to the not-so-safehouse, he knows. Steve’s not that righteous. Not when it could get him killed.
"Y’never know," he says. "One of these days someone on the inside might see it like we do. Maybe they’ll promote us to anti-heroes."
"Pretty sure nobody thinks they’re an anti-hero, Buck,” Steve says, sourly. “That’s just what they call bad guys people want to bang.”
"I’ve been called worse," Bucky says, and he opens the front door.