He knows what they say about him, what they call him. Cap's pet. Boytoy. Whore. He knows what they think, that he's just with Steve for the money, for the protection.
None of them know, really, who he used to be. Any assassin worth a damn, most people don't exactly live to talk about them.
Most of the time, people don't even catch his name. He doesn't talk much, not if it's more than him and Steve. They call him the whore, the pet, the solider – Bucky doesn't care, not really.
None of them would believe that he never would have met Steve at all, if he hadn't been hired to kill him.
Bucky's always been good at what he does. Most of his life before Steve is a blur, but from a great distance he remembers slingshots, bb guns, tin cans going down like nothing at all. He remembers a war, and afterward – how everyone stopped killing, except him. Why stop anything you're good at?
For years, he kept on killing. Without feeling, without guilt – the shots rang out, the body went down, and Bucky collected the money and moved on to the next assignment.
And then someone, a rival mob boss whose name is already gone, hired him to kill the guy everyone just called Captain America. "He's getting too big for his boots," the mob guy said. "I want him gone."
So Bucky followed him around, for a while. Waited in the shadows, hid out in the plain sight of coffee shops and bars and grocery stores, noticing each time how little fear the Captain elicited in those he met with, how much awe and respect – as much as anyone could love a mob boss, these people loved the Captain.
Soon enough, Bucky did, too.
He's a world-class assassin; he could've taken Steve out on any street corner, made it look like an accident if he wanted, but instead – after two weeks of telling his client that Steve was too well guarded, that he'd raised his price – he walked up to Steve in one of the bars Steve did business in and offered to kill his enemies, for free.
Steve smiled at him and bought him a drink, and then another, and soon enough Bucky was on his knees in Steve's apartment, blowing his target.
"You could stay," Steve said to him, after. He touched Bucky's hair, his face, the curve of his mouth. "Who knows?" he asked, smiling. "I might need protection 'round the clock."
In retrospect, Bucky's not sure how Steve could trust someone so fast, someone sent to kill him – it wouldn't be the first person Bucky's assassinated in the bedroom, truthfully – but when he mentioned it to Steve once, he just said, "I just knew I was safe with you. I'm not sure how, I just knew." Bucky shakes his head, calls Steve a sap, and Steve adds, "Besides, I figured anyone who wants to kill me that bad deserves a fair shot."
So they can say what they want about him, that he lives in the Captain's pocket, that he's part weapon and part whore, but Bucky knows the truth. He knows, when Steve looks at him, that he's not seeing a weapon, an ally, a quick fuck. He's just seeing Bucky, his best friend and once, his greatest threat. And when Bucky looks at Steve he's not seeing the mob boss, the Captain, or even his former target. He's just seeing Steve, strong and deadly, beautiful and caring.
It doesn't matter what anyone else says, because Bucky knows exactly who they are.
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Date: 2014-06-15 11:01 pm (UTC)None of them know, really, who he used to be. Any assassin worth a damn, most people don't exactly live to talk about them.
Most of the time, people don't even catch his name. He doesn't talk much, not if it's more than him and Steve. They call him the whore, the pet, the solider – Bucky doesn't care, not really.
None of them would believe that he never would have met Steve at all, if he hadn't been hired to kill him.
Bucky's always been good at what he does. Most of his life before Steve is a blur, but from a great distance he remembers slingshots, bb guns, tin cans going down like nothing at all. He remembers a war, and afterward – how everyone stopped killing, except him. Why stop anything you're good at?
For years, he kept on killing. Without feeling, without guilt – the shots rang out, the body went down, and Bucky collected the money and moved on to the next assignment.
And then someone, a rival mob boss whose name is already gone, hired him to kill the guy everyone just called Captain America. "He's getting too big for his boots," the mob guy said. "I want him gone."
So Bucky followed him around, for a while. Waited in the shadows, hid out in the plain sight of coffee shops and bars and grocery stores, noticing each time how little fear the Captain elicited in those he met with, how much awe and respect – as much as anyone could love a mob boss, these people loved the Captain.
Soon enough, Bucky did, too.
He's a world-class assassin; he could've taken Steve out on any street corner, made it look like an accident if he wanted, but instead – after two weeks of telling his client that Steve was too well guarded, that he'd raised his price – he walked up to Steve in one of the bars Steve did business in and offered to kill his enemies, for free.
Steve smiled at him and bought him a drink, and then another, and soon enough Bucky was on his knees in Steve's apartment, blowing his target.
"You could stay," Steve said to him, after. He touched Bucky's hair, his face, the curve of his mouth. "Who knows?" he asked, smiling. "I might need protection 'round the clock."
In retrospect, Bucky's not sure how Steve could trust someone so fast, someone sent to kill him – it wouldn't be the first person Bucky's assassinated in the bedroom, truthfully – but when he mentioned it to Steve once, he just said, "I just knew I was safe with you. I'm not sure how, I just knew." Bucky shakes his head, calls Steve a sap, and Steve adds, "Besides, I figured anyone who wants to kill me that bad deserves a fair shot."
So they can say what they want about him, that he lives in the Captain's pocket, that he's part weapon and part whore, but Bucky knows the truth. He knows, when Steve looks at him, that he's not seeing a weapon, an ally, a quick fuck. He's just seeing Bucky, his best friend and once, his greatest threat. And when Bucky looks at Steve he's not seeing the mob boss, the Captain, or even his former target. He's just seeing Steve, strong and deadly, beautiful and caring.
It doesn't matter what anyone else says, because Bucky knows exactly who they are.