Chapter Text
Bucky's eyes scanned over the sea of people dancing, jostling, rubbing against each other. He used to enjoy all of this, the loud music, the spinning lights, the smell of sweat and alcohol. This used to be his scene. But now, he felt so out of place.
He shoved his hands deeper into his leather jacket and squeezed his way to the bar, right up to a pretty blonde who was openly flirting with the bartender. Her eyes widen before changing into a deep frown when she saw him.
"Where's Becca?" he growled as he tried to keep his cool. His face was close enough to her that he didn't have to yell over the music. She just stared at him steely and shook her head. "I know she's here, Jenny. Where is she?"
Jenny started speaking but even though Bucky couldn't hear what she was saying over the loud bass, he could read lips well enough to make out the words 'dancing' and 'a guy'.
He frowned as he looked at the drink in front of her. "You shouldn't drink and drive." His throat burnt as the drink went down in one glup. He felt Jenny's glaring eyes as he walked away. The bartender asked her if he should call security.
There she was, his baby sister, being eaten alive by a Justin Bieber look-alike with octopus arms. He pushed his way towards them and without a word, grabbed her by the wrist. He ignored the protests and annoyed stares from those that they passed and almost made a guy spilled his drink as they made their way to the exit at the back of the club.
"Hey, watch it!"
Bucky was ready to return fire when his anger was momentarily doused by the bluest eyes he had ever seen. But admiration quickly turned to disgust as he regarded the guy's outfit. 'Who the fuck wears a dress shirt and slacks to a club?' Bucky thought to himself.
The air was cooler outside and Bucky took a deep breath before releasing his grip on Becca. The neon lights crackled and buzzed above them as they stood in the alleyway behind the club.
"What the hell are you doing?" she spat as she nursed her wrist.
"I should be asking you the same thing," he shot back, keeping his voice steady despite the anger that was rising inside him. "Ma called. She said you're suppose to be home hours ago. I said you were already asleep. In. My. Bed. Why didn't you tell her where you were? And where's your phone? I've been calling and calling."
Becca groaned in frustration and rolled her eyes at Bucky for being such a hypocrite. There was a time when she would catch her brother tip-toeing down the hall late at night. Bucky would sneak out almost every weekend and come home reeking of alcohol.
"How did you even managed to get in? Fake ID? Did Jenny dragged you into this?" Bucky's questions shot out like a machine gun.
"I left my phone in the car because I knew you would call. And I wanted to come here, Buck. It was my choice."
"Well, it's a stupid choice. I'm taking you home."
"No!" Becca backed away as Bucky made an attempt on her wrist. But she lost her footing and landed on the hard ground, just as the backdoor to the club opened.
Jenny looked at Becca and then at Bucky who was having a sick feeling in his stomach because he knew what was about to happen.
"You asshole! I knew you're gonna lose it some day! You and your fucking temper!" Jenny rushed to Becca's side and helped her up. She seemed to have twisted her ankle when she fell and scraped her palm.
"Jenny, its not what you think." Bucky balled his fists as he tried to stop them from shaking. He knew it was a bad idea to let his sister get too close to his ex-girlfriend. Too much history and too close for comfort. "Becca, I'm taking you home."
"Like hell you are! I'm not leaving her with you, not when you're like this."
Bucky tilted his head back and gave out a loud sigh. It's been a long day. He should be back at his apartment right now, showered and stuffing his face with cold pizza and watching Netflix. Instead, he had just spent the past 3 hours going from bar to club to bar, looking for his sister. If it hadn't been for Clint who had seen her in the club, he would probably still be searching for her.
Bucky took a deep breath to calm himself down just as the backdoor opened again.
'Oh geez, not this clown again,' Bucky thought, giving a once-over at the person who had just stepped out.
It was blue-eyed boy with the disgusting fashion sense.
The outfit looked out of place in the club, but it looked evenmore so at the alley, among the dumpster and pee-covered brick wall. Under new light, Bucky noticed how snug the blue shirt fits around the owner's large frame and immediately squared his shoulders, hoping to make himself appear intimidating.
"Is...there a problem here?" the guy asked as he shifted his gaze from Bucky to the girls. Bucky wondered if the guy was some kind of undercover security for the club.
' Do they even have such a thing?'
"There's no problem here, pal. Why don't you get back inside," Bucky replied a little too defensively. But the guy wasn't buying it.
"Ladies, is this man bothering you?" he asked again despite already drawn his own conclusion.
His back was turned towards Bucky and he could almost make out the muscles that rippled underneath the layer of light blue cotton. Bucky wasn't sure if he should be impressed or intimidated. No introductions were made, yet this guy was already messing with his head.
"Excuse me, why don't you mind your own business?" Bucky called out, pulling his thoughts back together.
"Sir, I think it's best that you walk away," the guy said without turning around. Bucky was unsure which was more appalling, being judged by an overgrown blond boy scout in khaki slacks or being addressed as 'Sir' by someone who was a clearly the same age as him.
"Becca we're leaving. Now." His hand reached out for Becca when a pair of thick arms were suddenly infront of him, palms placed dangerously close to his chest, blocking his way. Bucky pursed his lips into a thin line and furrowed his brows. Now he is impressed and intimidated. But he still needed to get Becca home.
"Miss, do you have any interest to leave with this gentleman?" soldier-boy asked Becca without taking his eyes off Bucky.
"No," Becca replied simply. Bucky frowned at her answer but more at how quickly this guy had taken charge of the situation.
"Okay, this is getting ridiculous," Bucky replied moving around the guy to grab hold of Becca's arm.
It happened so quickly. Suddenly Bucky found himself being pressed against the wall with his left arm twisted behind him. The pain shot right up his shoulder, conjuring painful memories. Instincts took over. He managed to get out of the arm lock and was about to throw a punch at the guy when the side of his head made contact with something hard.
Bucky stumbled back. His head was aching and his ear was ringing. He could taste blood on the inside of his cheek and spat it out.
"What the fuck did you do that for?" Becca half ran, half limped up to Bucky and tilted his head back to assess the damage. "Bucky, are you okay?"
The guy stood his ground but his shoulders slumped a little as he turned to look at Jenny, confusion clear on his face.
"That's her brother," replied Jenny flatly.
"Fuck this, man!" Bucky pulled away from Becca. "I ain't covering for you no more, Becca. Next time you feel like gallivanting around town, you tell mum the truth. And whatever shit you get yourself into, I ain't gonna pull you out. I'm out of here."
Becca called out to her brother. Tears were already streaming down her face.
"Come on Becca, let's get your ankle looked at. You can crash at my place, I'll take you home in the morning," Jenny said as she helped her friend back into the club. She gave the guy a slight shoulder shurg and a little smile as they walked passed him.
*~*~*
Steve took a swig of his beer and sighed. The club was done for the night and the staff was busy closing up. The only reason why he was allowed to stay was because he knew the manager on duty.
Natasha tsk-ed at him several times in between counting the cash in the register and tallying the night's sale. He was trying to avoid eye-contact because he knew what she would've said.
Natasha warned him about his heroic antics. His incessant need to save everyone would backfire one day and he would end up picking a fight with the wrong guy. Everytime the red-head mention it to him, he always thought she meant getting his ass whooped and handed back to him. Maybe on a silver platter. But that was definitely not what had happened.
He played the whole incident over and over again in his head and wondered how he could have assess the whole situation wrongly. He was angry with himself for judging the guy so quickly. Of course, there was a chance that he could have been the girl's brother. A slim chance but still a chance. Steve just didn't think it was quite that possible.
"Hey man, look at it this way," Sam took the seat next to him at the bar, half-way through sweeping. "At least you didn't get punched in the face. A shame to ruin that beautiful face."
Steve gave him a small smile and appreciated his friend's effort to cheer him up. "I still feel bad, though."
"Of course you do. That's cuz you're a good guy. But that don't mean you don't make mistakes. You'll learn." Sam patted him on the back. "Next time, you judge better."
Steve frowned at Sam's so-called advice. "I don't think I should even be judging."
"See, you're learning already."
The grin on Sam's face quickly disappeared when Natasha closed the drawer to the register a little too loudly. He hopped off the barstool and resumed sweeping. Moving away from the bar as quickly as he could. Natasha walked over from the cashier and stood right infront of Steve, forcing him too look at her.
"Look, Steve," she started, "he's not pressing charges, right, so you're off the hook. It's not such a big deal. You just made the wrong call, that's all. Don't be so hard on yourself."
"Back in the army, if I make the wrong call, people die."
"Oh, don't be so dramatic," Natasha snapped. "Now, let's talk about something more interesting. Like the guy I'm setting you up with. He's a bad boy. You like bad boys, right Steve?"
Steve chuckled as he shook his head.