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“For the record, I hate this idea,” Bucky growled.
“Ditto,” Steve added.
They were both leaning against the wall, arms crossed, faces stern, their postures identical - stiff, irritated, angry. They were glaring daggers at everyone in the room, including you.
“Tough shit,” Nat snapped. “Unless one of you wants to put on the dress -”
“Fuck you, Nat,” Bucky mumbled under his breath, loud enough that only you and Steve actually heard her.
“ - than I suggest you put a sock in it and get on board with the mission,” Nat finished.
Bucky and Steve scowled in unison, but neither of them uttered another word while Nat finished up. She laid out the details of the mission - you would go into the party undercover, as bait, while Sam, Clint, Steve, and Bucky would wait for the signal to go in. When Nat was done, the boys descended on you, Steve gripping your upper arm as they dragged you into the corner of the room.
“No,” Steve said firmly.
“What do you mean, no?” you bit out.
“You’re not going under,” Bucky said. “It’s too dangerous.”
“Bucky, this is my job,” you sighed. “The definition of being an Avenger is that you will be in danger at some point. I can do this.”
“Why don’t you stay here, take care of the comms, let Nat go to the party?” Steve suggested.
“Why don’t you kiss my ass, Rogers?” you snapped, glancing over at Nat, then back at the boys. “Seriously? You think Nat should go in my place?”
“Yes,” they said in unison.
“Nat’s a trained assassin, Y/N,” Steve said, his tone frustratingly condescending.
“This is what she does,” Bucky added.
You tried to hold back the scream of frustration attempting to explode out of you. Instead, you raised yourself to your full height - still several inches shorter than both super soldiers - and put a finger on both of their chests, tapping them lightly as you spoke. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Nat’s still wearing that cast from the last mission. Cocktail dresses and elbow to wrist casts don’t exactly mesh. And I, too, have been trained. Maybe I wasn’t raised to be an assassin or a soldier, but I can hold my own. I can do this. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get dressed.”
Bucky rolled his eyes, which only served to annoy you further, while Steve looked like he had more to add to the conversation, something you had no intention of sticking around to listen to. They were being ridiculous, both of them. You pushed past them and marched out of the room.
You took a deep breath, adjusted your skirt, and checked to make sure no one would be able to see the gun strapped to your thigh. You pressed a finger to your inner ear, checking the fit of the comm seated there.
“Test, test,” you murmured.
“We hear you loud and clear, Y/N,” Nat replied. “You’re good to go.”
You stepped out of the bathroom, closing the door gently behind you. You strolled through the room, trying to act casual, taking in everything, observing everything. You grabbed a glass of champagne, holding it loosely in two fingers as you walked. You didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, at least not anything that drew your attention. Not that you’d expected to, it wasn’t like the guy you were looking for was going to be holding one of those signs shaped like an arrow, labeled “sex trafficker,” pointing it at himself. You were going to have to find him based on the vague descriptions the victims had been able to give you and the hope that he might notice you.
You wandered around the room for nearly forty-five minutes before finally taking a seat at the bar. You wanted to kick off your heels and relax, but that wasn’t happening any time soon. You were getting frustrated; it was one of those moments when you wished you had some kind of superpower, preferably mind reading. You closed your eyes and rested your head against your hand, trying to center yourself so you could concentrate.
“You okay, Y/N?” Steve’s voice was like velvet in your ear, though it was thick with unease and worry.
“I’m good,” you mumbled, keeping your head down.
You felt a presence at your elbow, so you cleared your throat, hoping that whoever it was hadn’t heard you speaking to yourself. You put a smile on your face and turned your head.
Sitting next to you was a young man, maybe twenty-five, twenty-six, conventionally handsome, one of those guys who was attractive in an everyday sort of way. He was certainly no match for your Bucky or your Steve. He was smiling at you, his fingers just inches from yours.
“Hi,” he murmured. “I’m Chase. I don’t think we’ve met?” He held out his hand.
“Y/N,” you said, taking the proffered hand and shaking it. “Nice to meet you.”
You spent a few minutes chatting with Chase, but your eyes were constantly moving around the room, taking in everything. Maybe the intel you’d been given was incorrect and he wasn't going to be here. You were beginning to think that you might have to abort the mission.
“Can I show you something?” Chase interrupted your train of thought.
“Sure,” you shrugged.
“Y/N, no,” Bucky said in your ear.
Steve was adding his protests, but you ignored them as you followed Chase from the room and down a long, ornately decorated hallway. You walked for a couple of minutes before turning down a short corridor into a dark room.
“Nat, call it off, I don’t like this.” Steve’s voice exploded in your head.
“There is no reason to call it off, Rogers,” Nat snapped. “Y/N is there as bait. She stays put.”
You stopped at the open door, squinting, trying to see what was in the room beyond. You were temporarily blinded when the light came on, brighter than you’d expected. You put a hand up to shade your face and you stepped inside.
The second man came from behind, his arm sliding around your neck, the cloth soaked in chloroform covering your mouth and nose. You gasped, sucking in a lungful of chloroform, immediately feeling lightheaded. You struggled to pull away, but your brain didn’t seem to be talking to the rest of your body. The last thing you heard before slipping into unconsciousness were Steve and Bucky’s voices yelling your name in your head.
You weren’t out long, or at least you didn’t think you were. You woke to find yourself sprawled across the floor, wrists and ankles bound, your skirt hiked up, and your gun gone. You tried to move, but pain shot through you, making you flinch. You could hear voices in your head, yelling, orders being given, and outside of the room, you could hear gunfire. The door on the far side of the room - the one you’d come through - was closed. Chase and the guy who had grabbed you were standing on either side of it, weapons drawn.
The doorknob shook and a large bang rattled the entire door. Chase turned and dove toward you just as the door exploded inward, splinters of wood flying everywhere. Bucky stood in the doorway, his metal hand flexing repeatedly, a scowl on his face. He spotted you immediately and the look on his face changed from a mere scowl to one of sheer rage.
“Steve!” he bellowed.
Fingers were tangled in your hair, Chase using it to drag you to your feet, a gun pressed to your temple. If Bucky’s face had held pure rage before, now it was murder. He stepped toward you, stopped only by Steve’s hand on his arm when Chase cocked the gun in his hand.
“Let her go,” Steve ordered.
“Fuck you!” Chase shouted, fear making is voice quiver. “Get the fuck out of my way or I swear to God I’ll shoot her in her pretty little head. Doesn’t bother me.”
“I’m gonna fucking kill you,” Bucky growled, raising his gun and pointing it at Chase’s head. “Let her go, now.”
Chase opened his mouth to say something else - God knew what - but at that moment, Steve and Bucky moved as if they were one person, charging across the room. Surprised, Chase faltered, the gun falling away for just a second. Bucky took advantage of the opportunity and hit Chase, while Steve went for you, wrapping himself around you, falling to the floor with you in his arms. You rolled a few feet, safe in Steve’s protective grip, Bucky fighting with Chase in your peripheral vision.
Chase didn’t stand a chance, not against Bucky, forget an extremely pissed off Bucky. It took less than thirty seconds before Chase was a bloody mess, falling to the ground with a loud thud. Bucky was on his feet instantly and at your side, both he and Steve hovering over you.
“Jesus, doll, you scared the shit out of us,” Steve mumbled as he ripped the duct tape around your wrists and ankles off. “You alright?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” you whispered.
Bucky pressed a finger to his ear. “Sam, Clint, all clear,” he said. “Move in.”
Five Hours Later
You pulled the sweatshirt tighter around yourself, not only for warmth, but because it smelled like the boys, both of them. It was one of those pieces of clothing they shared back and forth, one or the other wearing it on occasion. Steve and Bucky sat on either side of you, so close there wasn't an inch of space between your bodies.
Nat came through the door to the common room, eyes focusing on you immediately. She headed directly for you, a stern look on her face.
“You okay, Y/N?” she asked.
“All good,” you replied. “Just a couple of bumps and bruises. I’ll be fine.”
Beside you, Steve grunted, irritated. “She’s got a cracked rib,” he grumbled. “Not fine.”
Nat shot him a dirty look, then turned back to you. “Once he gets out of the hospital, Chase is going to jail,” she said. “There were at least fifteen women locked in the basement of that place. Sam hacked into their system and found an online auction, not to mention bank accounts all over the world with millions of dollars in them. Your name and picture had already been added to the list of women for sale. Chase didn’t waste any time.”
A low rumbling growl erupted from Bucky and his metal hand whirred as his fist clenched. “I should have killed him.”
“You two almost ruined everything,” Nat snapped. “Rushing in there, without Clint and Sam -”
“They would have killed Y/N once they discovered who she was. We’re lucky she only ended up with a cracked rib and not dead,” Steve argued. “We weren’t about to let that happen.”
“Steve,” Nat sighed.
“Are we done here?” Bucky interjected. “Y/N needs her rest.”
You thought about protesting but you knew it wouldn’t do any good. Bucky and Steve would get their way, no matter what you said or did. You’d been learning to accept their overprotective, sometimes overbearing, nature. It was one of the perks, you supposed, of being their girlfriend. If you wanted to call it a perk.
“We’ll finish this later,” Nat mumbled, spinning on her heel and marching out of the room.
“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Steve said, one arm sliding around your waist, the other beneath your legs. He lifted you as if you weighed nothing, your embarrassed mumblings falling on deaf ears. He carried you down the hall to his room, Bucky right on his heels, not stopping until you were safely deposited on the bed.
You sighed and sank back into the pillows, your arms crossed, staring at the two men standing over you.
“I’m fine,” you muttered. “All of this is unnecessary.”
Bucky stripped off his jacket before sitting on the bed next to you. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Y/N. We’re just gonna watch a movie.” He squeezed your leg and kissed your temple, then he picked up the remote for the TV.
Steve sat on your other side and pulled your legs over his, his lips drifting along the edge of your jaw. “Yep, a movie,” he said. “No big deal.”
“No big deal,” you repeated, snuggling deeper into the pillows, letting the super soldiers surround you, comfort you, protect you. Your eyes drifted closed, Steve and Bucky’s voices in your ears.