Chapter Text
Hell’s Kitchen
Bucky stood before the mirrors in the back of Kenny’s suit shop with his arms outstretched in a t-pose, while Kenny, the tailor, put sewing pins where his suit had to be taken in. His personal detail, and friends, Pietro and Mark, stood guard on either side of the shop, facing each other, standing guard in their work suits, guns hidden in their breast pockets. There was nobody else in the shop, for it was closed just for them.
Kenny stood straight and regarded his work for a moment, nodded in content, and asked, “Does that feel comfortable, Mr. Barnes?”
He carefully tested out the range of motion of the black suit and felt pleased by the fitting of it.
“Perfect, Mr. Lee, Perfect.”
With the help of Mr. Lee, Bucky got out of his suit and finished his fitting. It went just like every other time, except this particular tuxedo was for a special occasion, and, of course, there was no one else he would trust with such a design than his old family friend, Kenny Lee.
Bucky stepped out of the fitting room in a suit he already owned, a dark navy blue pin-striped fit, with a white button up and a deep red tie. As he adjusted and buttoned his jacket, one could catch a glimpse of the white lotus patterned lining on the inside, as well as the black leather gun holster against his chest.
If Kenny saw the latter, he wasn’t fazed, he knew of Bucky Barnes’ business and he never asked any questions.
Bucky stepped down from the raised platform at the back of the shop and made his way to the front of the store, Pietro and Mark were already ahead of him, flanking either side of the door to protect his exit. It was second nature for them on outings like this one. Protect the boss at all costs, especially during times like these.
“I’ll have your suit ready as soon as possible, Mr. Barnes,” Mr. Lee spoke up from behind the register.
Bucky, who was already taking his wallet from his inside breast pocket, gave him a gentle, dismissive wave. “Take your time, Mr. Lee. There’s no rush.”
He paid the shop owner for his services, as he always did (despite Kenny’s protests), and exited the shop like any normal day. Upon stepping onto the sidewalk, his phone rang, vibrating against his breast pocket. He took it out and saw on the screen that Sam was calling him, his right hand man, and most trusted friend.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Where are you right now?”
“I’m at Kenny’s, getting my suit for Murdock’s wedding.”
“Right now? Are you kidding me?”
“What do you mean?”
Sam chuckled darkly on the other end. “Hydra’s threats mean nothing to you?”
Bucky sighed. He looked to Mark and motioned with his hands before saying, “Start the car will ya? I’ll be right there.”
Pietro stayed behind with Bucky, while Mark crossed the street to the black Mercedes they had driven in. Meanwhile, Bucky spoke to his friend on the line with a low whisper.
“We get threats like these all the time and they’d never attack Kenny’s, you know that. Besides, I dare them to try me on the street.”
It was Sam’s turn to sigh now. “Bucky-”
Sam’s words were cut off by the ear shattering sound of an explosion that nearly knocked both Bucky and Pietro off of their feet. Both men exclaimed as the wave of sound and heat hit them, and they raised their arms to protect themselves from it as best as they could. When they finally dared to look at the source, they were shocked to find that the Mercedes that they had come in, was completely destroyed and up in flames. And no doubt Mark was dead inside of it.
People nearby were screaming in terror, and many of them had come out of the shops to see what had happened, including Mr. Kenny Lee.
Bucky and Pietro both take out their guns in swift motions, pointing them at nothing, but having them at the ready. They shared a look of horror.
“Bucky! Bucky, what happened!” Sam’s warped voice came through the speaker of Bucky’s phone, which he had dropped amidst the incident. Without taking his eyes off the car, he bent down, picked it up, and put it to his ear.
“Sam….”
“What the fuck just happened?”
Pietro spoke up this time. “I think they just declared war, Boss.”
***
Midtown Manhattan - Stark Media
You picked up the stack of scripts you were assigned for the week as the meeting room emptied, signaling the end of your day. Your coworkers smiled at you, bidding you goodbye as they went off in their respective directions. You were tired, the good kind of tired where you enjoyed what you did throughout the day, but if you were honest, you were ready to go home, curl up with your cat, and watch some TV.
You store the scripts into your messenger bag, sling it over your shoulder and head to the elevator. Just as the doors begin to close, a hand sticks right in between them and you internally sigh. The silver doors reopened to reveal one of your coworkers, Gabe Torres. He was a rather tall, lean young man with tan skin, black hair, some 5 o’clock shadow, and a smile that never left his face. He was arguably the friendliest, sweetest man on the team, and was 100% in love with you. You were well aware of this fact, but on account that he wasn’t your type, you didn’t reciprocate these feelings whatsoever.
In fact, your heart filled with dread upon seeing his face. Still, you plastered on a smile when he walked in the elevator. You hoped he wouldn’t ask you out again.
“Hey!” He greeted you.
“Hi!” you returned with as much bubbliness as you could muster.
The elevator doors closed and it began its descent 10 floors down to the lobby. Of course, he engaged in small talk with you.
“Did you have a good day?”
“Yeah, it was great. Can’t wait to go home though.”
“Yeah, me too,” he mused. “Do you have any plans for the evening?”
“Oh, you know, get started on one of these scripts, maybe hang out with my cat and watch TV.”
“You should totally watch…”
He started listing a bunch of movies and TV shows, some you had seen and some that you hadn’t. When you finally got to the lobby, he continued walking alongside you, all the way until you were outside and you listened as best as you could while chiming in here and there.
It wasn’t rare when he did this. He often joined you on your walk to the subway or when you got a taxi. But it never got as far as that. You had rejected a few of his invitations to go out and if you did go out, it was never alone. Luckily for you, he was respectful, albeit a little too persistent.
Amidst your conversation, you couldn’t help but notice a black car, following you along the sidewalk. Having already tuned out Gabe, you carefully put your hand in your messenger bag, feeling around until your fingers wrapped around the handle of a gun, something you carried with you at all times. Casually, you glanced over your shoulder at the car. Your eyes lock onto the driver’s side of the windshield and they nearly pop out of your head when you recognize who the driver is.
No fucking way.
Pietro fucking Maximoff.
You stopped dead in your tracks, never taking your gaze off of him. He in turn, stops the car and waves at you. You had to refrain from flipping him off on account that you were with Gabe.
“Are you okay?” you hear Gabe ask.
“Ummm…”
You don’t manage to answer the question because of how baffled you are. If Pietro is here, then there’s only one person that could possibly be in that backseat.
Right on queue, Pietro pulls up the car so it’s side by side with you, and the back window rolls down, revealing none other than Bucky Barnes himself. Your adoptive brother who you hadn’t seen in months. And, who, if he’s showing up unannounced, could only mean bad news.
“Hey, Y/N,” he says casually. “Long time no see.”
You release your grip on the gun and take your hand out of the messenger bag and regard your brother with an annoyed stare.
“What are you doing here?” Your tone is anything but friendly.
“We have dinner plans, remember? I said I’d pick you up.”
Dinner plans. To an outsider it would sound like a normal statement, but with people like your family, everything had a deeper meaning.
You put on your best acting skills and fake realization dawned on you.
“Oh my god! Yes! I totally forgot.” You turned to Gabe, who looked confused and worried. “It was great talking to you, but I gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”
He nods. “Yeah, yeah, okay.”
Bucky opens the door and scoots over to give you a seat. With one last wave to your colleague, you slide into the backseat and slam the door shut. All smiles leave you as soon as you’re in the privacy of the huge car and you’re faced with not only Bucky, but Clint and Sharon on the other seat across from you.
Three lackeys in one car. Must be serious.
As soon as the car took off, you turned to Bucky and asked, “What is it now?”
“Hydra.”
You heave a heavy sigh and let Bucky explain everything to you in full detail.
***
The Hamptons
When you didn’t stop at the villa in Manhattan and crossed the bridge towards farther east to a more secluded mansion, you knew something was wrong. But Bucky didn’t say anything to you until you arrived through the iron wrought gates and entered the familiar estate you once called home.
You gazed up at the luxurious monstrosity before entering through the double doors. It was a family home that was passed down from your grandfather, to your father, and now Bucky. Bucky wasn’t your father’s biological son, nor your biological brother, but your dad always considered him his son. He found him on the streets of Brooklyn when he was a kid and adopted him as his own. The two of you were raised together under the guidance and protection of the Hell’s Kitchen mafia, and for the majority of your life it was all you ever knew.
The business was supposed to be handed down to you, but as desensitized as you were to the business, you also wanted no part in its leadership. You wanted your own freedom, so when your father died of cancer when you were a teenager, you gave it all to Bucky in exchange for just that. Of course, Bucky wanted you to have just as he did, as it was your right, so you agreed to co-sign the contract, but in that contract, the full responsibility went to Bucky. And you were happy that way, having decided on going to college and forming your own career outside of the mafia. However, no matter how hard you tried, there were certain ties that were stronger than steel. And danger was always going to be lurking around the corner.
Once within the safety of the mansion, both you and Bucky had the privacy of talking in the den, no personal detail needed. Your work clothes stood out starkly against the expensive decor, not to mention, you were the only one not wearing a suit in the entire house.
As if reading your mind, Bucky leans back against the velvet couch across from you and asks, “Do you still have your suit?”
You hum, “Of course.”
“Why aren’t you wearing it?”
“Well, you didn’t exactly give me time to change when you ambushed me after work.”
“I apologize,” he lifts his hands apologetically.
Tired of the anticipation, you get down to business. “What’s going on? We haven’t cracked down like this since your promotion.”
After your dad died, and Bucky was put in his place, there were some people who wanted to take advantage of what they deemed, “a moment of weakness.” Unlucky for them, Bucky was a bastard who learned under your father, and he proved he earned his spot.
Bucky sighed, “Hydra doesn’t like how much we’ve been growing, so they’ve decided to make moves against us.”
Hydra was a rival group based in the upper east side of Manhattan. They formed around the same time the Hell’s Kitchen Mafia was, except, they were basically Nazis.
“What kind of moves?”
“Like, blow up our car in front of Kenny’s kind of moves.”
Your jaw dropped in horror.
“Your car?”
“Yeah. Lucky for me and Pietro, we were across the street when it happened. Mark, though? We lost Mark.”
You frowned at that. Mark was a good friend, and had been in the mafia for years. You were used to death, but it didn’t hurt any less when you lost someone. And Pietro. Pietro was there too…It could have been bad if it was him in that car.
“Has anything else happened after that?”
“Robbie, one of our new kids got shot in an alley.”
“Shit.”
“I know,” he uttered grimly. “That’s why it was imperative that I bring you here. To talk to you. To let you know that you need protection.”
You scoffed, “I can protect myself just fine.”
He rolled his eyes, “You know it’s not about that. You think I can’t protect myself? You might be used to the outside world now, Y/N, but in here? Life is a game of chess and it is imperative to surround yourself with as much protection against the people making moves against you. People like us need someone watching our back at all times.”
You clenched your jaw and glared at him. He wasn’t wrong, which is why you didn’t argue against it. Still, you had to know what his plan was.
“So, what? You want to lock me up in here for god knows how long?”
“Here, or a safe house in Jersey.”
“Jersey?” you exclaimed incredulously, almost gagging. “Absolutely not. I am not being holed up here or fucking Jersey. I have a life! A job! A cat! I’m not stopping my life!”
“And I’m not leaving you vulnerable and exposed to these sons of bitches, so, you either go to a safe house or I give you your own personal detail.”
“A babysitter?”
“A bodyguard.”
“Absolutely not. What am I, a Kardashian?”
“No, you’re Don Y/L/N’s daughter, which is more life threatening than a Kardashian.”
“To you,” you say under your breath.
“Listen, regardless of what you say to me, I’m going to have you followed with or without your permission, so you might as well stop being stubborn about it.” You shot daggers at him with your eyes. The way he spoke to you reminded you a lot of your father. It was authoritative, final, and meant to instill fear. You weren’t scared, but you knew there was no swaying him in any direction.
You crossed your arms and ran your tongue over your teeth in silent anger. You were well into your twenties, you weren’t a child anymore. You had your own place, for fuck’s sake, you had a paid internship at your dream job. But when it came to things like this, you felt powerless.
Still, Bucky was offering you a chance to make your own choice.
“Fine. I’ll take the bodyguards.” You said, which made Bucky smile, until you added, “I want Sharon.”
Bucky scoffed a laugh. “No.”
“No?” you practically yelled.
“I already have someone in mind. Someone I trust with my life and yours.”
“Who?”
There was a moment of silence before he said two words you didn’t want to hear.
“Pietro Maximoff.”
You’re got to be fucking kidding me.