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The Soldier wasn’t sure how he ended up here, but he was ready to blame Stark.
Well, technically Stark AND Rogers, but blaming the Captain had always been in the cards, while blaming Iron Man was fairly new.
The weather was cold enough that the Soldier felt the sting of the air in his lungs and this once he was grateful for his mask, because it served as a protective barrier between his skin and the air. Even though his beard made wearing the kevlar-laiden fabric itchy, at least it didn’t let his body heat escape through exposure.
This thought was ridiculous, though. New York was not nearly as cold as Siberia, not even when the former was hit with this extreme cold wave. Plus he was enhanced by Zola’s serum. He got frostbite exactly once, as far as his memory served him of course; and never when geared up properly. Nevertheless, it felt like a habit to think about the cold and calculate with it. Especially since it was mostly the reason he got the mission.
He stooped down and looked through the telescope of his rifle, following the Mark’s movements.
Tracking this Mark was difficult even for the Soldier. He moved unpredictably, not like anyone else the Soldier had followed before. The only worse case would be if he’d been a teleporter, which thank fuck he wasn’t.
When the Mark stopped to confer with a civilian, the Soldier quickly checked the surroundings. There were no signs of threat. Well, other than the Soldier, of course, and speaking of - he broadened the scanned area, looking for light reflecting on someone else’s rifle or figures other than him perching on rooftops.
But New York was, strangely, almost peaceful. Most people didn’t want to come out to the streets while the temperature was a one-digit number in Fahrenheit. The streets weren’t empty, but this was definitely an easy assignment. The Soldier wondered if he should be offended by his handlers - boyfriends, but when they gave missions they were also handlers - underestimating his skills.
He returned the scope to the place where the Mark should’ve been.
He saw only the empty street.
His blood turned just as cold as the air he breathed in.
The Mark was gone.
He straightened up, squinting as he tried to strain his own eyes, quicker to look through larger area this way, but the unpredictableness of the Mark was working against the Soldier. The Mark was quick and moved in patterns no ordinary humans would do and--- fuck. If only there were sunlight, maybe the rays could catch on the white threads the Mark always left behind, but the Soldier had no such luck, and he had to think quick before the Mark could reach areas out of his sight.
If he were the Mark, where would he go?
What would be his mission objective?
The Soldier had picked his spot of observation with his usual professionalism and now he was very grateful for his previous insight. From here, he could see almost every spot his Mark frequented. He turned the telescope towards the home base of the Mark.
Maybe he got tired of the cold, just like most civilians did, and decided to turn in early. That didn’t sound like something the Mark would do, but the Soldier had been informed that the Mark didn’t like cold either, and he didn’t know he was watched.
But there was no sight of him around the apartment building.
So his need for comfort didn’t overwrite his sense of duty. Pity.
The Soldier sniffed, and swallowed the snot. (What else was he supposed to do with it? He was an assassin with appropriate tac gear, not a maiden ready to take out a handkerchief at any moment. His definition of taking out something or someone was radically different than that.) His stomach started to clench into knots.
Sense of duty, though - the Mark had friends. The Soldier went through the mental list of their addresses, checking the windows through his scope. All were closed, the inhabitants should be sleeping soundly at this wee hour of… well. Most of them. Uh. Some of them?
The girl, the top priority for the target, was still up, spread out on her bed and reading on her phone. The friend, second priority, was playing on his computer.
The Soldier adjusted the scope. Just to be able to report his observations later, of course. Not out of curiosity, because the mission was more important than some curiosity. And yet the Soldier almost smiled under the cover of his mask when he recognized the game on the screen. He was familiar with that one, and it had pretty impressive graphics. The Captain liked it too. Iron Man sometimes watched them playing in their downtime.
Anyway. Back to the mission. The Soldier checked the windows of the other friends of the Mark, and was pretty disappointed to find all of them awake. Teenagers. He was going to report that; these people were irresponsible and neglected their self-maintenance.
So. No luck finding the Mark at his friends.
The Soldier started to get admittedly nervous.
A missing Mark was always bad. It always resulted in punishment. He had to correct his mistake. He had to relocate the Mark, and he had to do it soon, before his handlers decided to randomly check on the Soldier.
They very rarely did that, but if it would ever happen…
His boyfriends wouldn't hurt him, but handlers should...
The Soldier didn’t want to take his chances.
What else did he know of the Mark?
Right, the Mark had his own enhancements - which meant faster metabolism, which meant higher need of calorie intake. Food. Maybe the Mark was looking for sustenance.
Technically, that didn’t narrow things down much, because there were food vendors at every corner in New York City, but the Mark was a picky eater with strong preferences and only a handful of favorite places that were open during the night.
The Soldier methodically checked all of them.
After each one, his distress grew.
Where the hell could the Mark be gone?
His handlers were going to kill the Soldier. Iron Man had invested a lot into the Mark, and when Iron Man was invested, he didn’t like mistakes.
No - Stark wouldn't do that. He was more reasonable than to throw away an Asset like his boyfriend. But if he got angry enough, who knew...
The Soldier felt the bile rising in his throat. Running out of sensible options, he was just scanning the streets randomly. Each time he heard sirens, he quickly looked for the source of the sound - but to no avail.
What would Iron Man do to him? These handlers didn’t use the Chair - in fact, they promised never to do that, the Soldier was present when they destroyed what supposed to be the very last of the machines - but still, it was Stark’s Mark. Maybe not the Chair, but something brutal for sure - electricity was up to Iron Man’s alley, after all. Or maybe brute force from the Captain, since he was among the few who could not only match, but overpower the Soldier physically. But Rogers’ style was more refined than that.
It was a good thing his hands couldn’t shake. His stomach, however, could and did.
It would be his first failure with these handlers.
They had promised no punishment, at the very beginning, but it never had been put on the test.
Maybe they’d hand the Soldier over to someone else for punishment. As a way of keeping their promise and yet maintaining efficiency. Widow would definitely be inventive, and she knew his training and handling methods intimately. Or the Archer could be rewarded with playtime with the Soldier, if Hawkeye did good enough recently. The Soldier doubted that he’d be given to the Hulk or the God or the Android, but it wasn’t entirely out of the cards, either.
He turned his scope towards the busiest areas. Maybe the Mark would be there. Hiding in plain sight. Looking for trouble. Wishing for a company. Something.
The cold air stung in his lungs.
He couldn’t fail. Failure was not an option. Not for the Soldier.
“Mr Barnes Soldier Sir, are you okay?”
The Soldier jumped. And yelped. He was going to deny both until his death. He nearly dropped the rifle when he had to grab one of the poles of the water reservoir behind him to not fall over the edge of the roof. He didn't remember standing up, but he was on his feet.
The Mark was squatting on the top of the reservoir, looking down at him.
They stared at each other. At least, the Soldier assumed - there was some leeway with the eyelets of the Mark’s mask. Still, he was pretty sure they were focused on him.
“Mr Barnes? Soldier?” the Mark repeated, and jumped to the rooftop, landing almost soundlessly right next to the Soldier. The covering of his feet seemed inappropriately thin. “I can hear your heartbeat is way faster than it should be.”
That was… well, it was true, but he felt the beating slowing down now.
The Mark wasn’t lost.
His mission wasn’t a failure.
He wouldn’t be punished.
The panic faded slowly.
He didn’t realize, until now, how harsh and ragged and quick his breathing had been.
“I’m…” What was he supposed to say? On one hand, he had visual - very close one - on the Mark. On the other hand, this mission was supposed to be non-contact. The Mark wasn’t supposed to be aware of the Soldier’s presence.
“Did Mr Wilson eat the last cookie again?” the Mark sounded sympathetic, and sat down on the edge of the roof.
The Soldier thought about it for a moment, and followed suit. Their legs dangled on the edge of the wall. The Mark kicked a bit, and the Soldier felt the tiny vibrations going through the bricks, reminding him of the Mark’s inhuman strength.
Spider-man was also among the few people who could beat him physically.
“...No,” he finally said, after considerable amount of pause.
They looked over the city in silence for a bit. The Soldier’s heartbeat was back to normal, and his thoughts clearer.
Suddenly he felt very uncomfortable. For failing to keep a tab on the Mark, sure, but also for thinking Iron Man would kill him for it.
Stark would never do that.
But even if he did, Rogers would never let him.
Even though it was their fault, really, after all they had given the mission.
But then again - they were together. Well, mostly. It was complicate. Barnes was with Rogers and the Soldier was with Stark and also Stark and Rogers were togher but Soldier wasn't with Rogers and Barnes were only friends with Stark. Which made everything quite tricky; but that wasn't the point now. The point was: they were trusting each other.
Or they were supposed to be. Handlers or not. The Soldier should probably work a bit on that.
“Wanna talk about it?” Spider-man offered after a while.
“No.”
If Barnes were in control, he probably would. But that was the thing with them - the Soldier nearly never wanted to talk about anything. Speaking was hard and uncomfortable and frankly, more dangerous than most activities. Silence was easier and safer, too. Barnes, though, Barnes was a talker. This was probably one of their most distinctive difference that immediately gave away who was in control out of the two at any given moment. The Soldier rarely talked; Barnes rarely shut up.
“Okay, then I’ll do the talking.”
The Soldier didn’t look, but he sensed the Mark nodding on his side. Spider-man was also staring ahead.
“I go patrolling, the evening is quiet and everything is fine until my spidey sense goes a bit odd, I swing around to see where it leads me and after some searching I find the Winter Soldier, close to a panic attack, on a rooftop with a sniper rifle. I assume you weren’t about to assassinate someone, because you don’t do that anymore, so you must’ve been watching something, correct?”
Spider-man’s voice started to get elevated, his tone agitated. The Soldier didn’t say a word, but silence was apparently confirmation enough.
“I ask myself, what would the Winter Soldier be after? In New York? While I’M on patrol? What would cause him distress? And you know what conclusion I got to? That you were watching me. Because there is nothing else to watch, ‘specially not tonight. And sure, you do this peoplewatching when you’re upset, but there are no cookies involved and you didn’t say anything else either and I bet my senses went off when you lost sight of me and that caused your problem, right? Mr Soldier, sir, Barnes, were you sent out to watch me on patrol?”
Was he supposed to answer? The Mark was a child genius, just like Stark had been. His conclusions, however rushed they sounded because he neglected to follow through the whole of the thought processes out loud, were spot on.
Bucky would probably have been able to handle the situation with more tact, but missions were always the Soldier’s responsibility nowadays, and they couldn’t just switch on command. Not often, at least.
“Why?”
There was so much emotion in the question, the Soldier finally turned his head. Spider-man lifted his mask so it wasn’t covering his face anymore, and his lower lip trembled, on the verge of crying.
“Mr Stark doesn’t trust me?”
A pang of empathy shot through the Soldier’s mind, probably because of Barnes in the background. “He does.”
“Then why?”
The Soldier wasn’t sure he knew the answer to that. Or maybe - he knew, but he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to know.
Emotions, generally speaking, weren't his responsibility and definitely weren't his expertise.
But this was clear as daylight even to him.
“Because he cares.”
The strange, warm feeling at the back of his mind was new, but it definitely belonged to Barnes. The Soldier and Barnes weren't good at working together, but apparently now Barnes was pleased. The Soldier wasn’t sure how, but he knew that Barnes was helping him with words, now, and it was… nice. Good to catch a break between all their rivalry for control over the body they shared.
And Barnes's help made talking so much easier. And much more satisfying, with that warmth as the background. The Soldier felt his fingertips tingling and he put the rifle down next to himself carefully, just in case. He wouldn’t want to accidentally fire it.
“I don’t understand,” the kid said.
Just a kid. Spider-man was so young. Younger than Steve when…
“It’s cold. Coldest night of the year so far,” the Soldier explained.
The Mark’s eyes were wet. The new mission objective was to make the Mark less upset. The Soldier, for once, didn’t care where the objective came from.
“And?” Spider-man urged, sounding confused.
“You haven’t been out in this cold before. Iron Man was worried.”
“Mr Stark was worried that I mess it up just because it’s freezing?” The Mark didn’t sound any less upset, quite the opposite.
The Soldier shook his head. “нет. Worried that…” Even if Barnes was helping from the backseat, the Soldier was struggling with words. He thought back of the last evening, when the three (four?) of them had been watching a movie together. Rogers had thrown popcorn into the air and tried to catch with his mouth. Barnes had done it better than him. Iron Man had been counting their points. Then Barnes went to make more popcorn in the microwave and his- their boyfriends started to talk about the team.
The Soldier thought back to what Barnes had been listening to, how Stark had said that he was worried for his kid and wanted someone to make sure he was taking care of himself and didn't need anything. That he wanted to know he was not only making the streets safe for others, but taking care of himself in the process, too. How Rogers had immediately looked at Barnes, with his soft-yet-wide smile and said that it sounded like something Bucky always had done for him. How Stark’s eyes had lit up and said that with his expertise in Steve-handling, keeping an eye on Peter would be child’s play for Bucky.
How Barnes had agreed that he wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on yet another reckless young superhero, if the Soldier was on board too, jokingly noting that at least Parker wouldn’t get to the brink of death just because of a stronger wind sneezing at his way.
The Soldier had been on board. It had sounded like an easy mission, yesterday.
The Soldier took a deep breath and tried to string a coherent sentence together.
“Stark’s worried that you put others before yourself. Too much. And get hurt for that. Not hurt - other word. Sick. Cold. Uncomfortable. Rogers said it would be familiar to me, to look out for you. Would be just like Barnes and Rogers back in their days.”
The Soldier took a few slow breaths. He rarely talked this much, but the kid was blinking rapidly, and seemed… touched, Barnes supplied the word.
“So what was this observation about? What were you supposed to do?” Pet-- Parker’s words were a little muffled as he wiped his nose on the back of his hands. The Soldier sniffed again. That was at least easier to explain - he had the vocabulary to it.
“Monitor food and warm liquid intake. Report if it’s inadequate. Report if shown any sign of being cold. Report if cold affects performance. Offer insight if more heat pads or other precautionary measures are necessary addition to next uniform.”
“That’s it? No stepping up for me? No helping me dealing with small style criminals or anything?”
The Soldier shrugged. It was Barnes’s gesture. “I’m not allowed to activate myself. Unless I get direct orders from Captain or Iron Man; unless someone’s life is in mortal danger and there’s no other way to prevent harm; or unless code Red alerts Avengers Headquarters in case of a global emergency.”
The kid laughed. It still sounded a bit wet, but it wasn’t upset anymore. “And you don’t think that would happen tonight.”
The Soldier knew that it was nearly impossible; otherwise he wouldn’t have been given this mission. If not absolutely necessary, neither the Captain nor Iron Man wanted to truly activate the Winter Soldier. Not in full capacity, at least.
The Soldier didn't mind that. He liked to be an ace up in their sleeves. It had taken him a while to realize that their reluctance didn't come from distrust, but once he had understood that, it became okay.
Yeah, the Soldier should definitely extend the same amount of trust towards his handlers that he was handled with.
“Why do you have a sniper rifle?” Spider-man asked.
The Soldier only glared at him. Firstly, it was standard gear, secondly, how else was he supposed to follow the kid’s movements if not through a telescope. His sight was good, but the area Spider-man covered in a night was huge .
The Mark chuckled. “Okay, take it I didn’t ask that,” he corrected himself, and the Soldier toned his glaring down a bit. Just a bit. But there it was - a smile on the kid’s face.
Mission accomplished, he almost heard Barnes whispering in his head.
Stark was going to be pleased with that development. Making Parker smile was important to Stark. And apparently to Barnes, too.
They all loved the Spiderkid, after all. Even the Soldier liked him, however reluctant he was to admit that.
“Mr Soldier?” the tone was… hopeful. “Actually, that warm drink… is not a bad idea. Aren't you cold? What would you say to a hot chocolate? I can invite you. I don’t know if you carry money with you, but I have pockets inside my suit.”
That was a stupid question. Truly stupid. Maybe Spider-man wasn’t as much of a child genius as his mentor.
Hot chocolate was always wonderful to have. “I pack the rifle and then we go. I’ll pay.”
“Okay, one condition. I’ll be there when you give your report to Mr Stark and Mr Rogers. Deal?”
The Soldier snorted and nodded.
Parter offered his pinky finger to seal the deal. He accepted.
The debriefing tomorrow was definitely not going to go as Iron Man and Captain would hope it to, but that was fine.