Making Up For Lost Time - [James Barnes x Male OC]

19

Stefan's Point Of View

"Well. Shit." I muttered, hands on my hips as I looked at the mess we made.

There was no building to sneak into anymore; we exploded it to get rid of evidence, and get out unseen. Don't worry. We made sure everyone had left after a 'fire' started on one of the top floors.

But the explosion was supposed to be small.

The entire fucking corner is destroyed. Not what we planned, or how much we evacuated.

"Not it!" Nat and Clint said at the same time, making me roll my eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Let's get going... Damn kids." I muttered, herding them into the car. They both got in the back seat, while I drove.

"Stefan, did you forget your gun?" Nat asked, gesturing to the fact that I didn't have it with me.

I groaned, parking the car and dragging Clint around to the driver seat. "I'll get another way back. You two need to get going; being on TV after exploding a building wouldn't be good for both of your reputations."

They nodded, driving off. Great. Now I have to run back and grab it.

I had behind a nearby building, surveying my obstacles to the intact building I needed to get on the roof of. The press. Swarming like the vultures they are, coming in packs like and attacking anyone around like hyenas, asking as many questions as possible.

I hate the press.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I ignored it after checking the caller I.D.. James was calling, as he no doubt saw the live action news. I made my way around the corners and crevices, before I reached the ally I had to go into.

"Excuse me, sir! Were you caught in the catastrophe?" A reporters practiced voice came from behind me.

I stopped, swore, and nodded, bring a slightly bloody hand to my head. When we escaped the crumbling building, I got smacked with a rock I'd concrete and bled on my side. They wouldn't know the difference. "I was patrolling the building, a- and it just fell apart! I--" When she had as much as she needed, she quickly directed the camera away from the 'traumatized security guard' to continue her job. Thank God, I wasn't going to be able to keep up that act completely. I limped my way toward the ambulance, showed one my credentials, and they quickly let me through to another ally, where I could go to the rooftop to get my gun. My phone buzzed again, and then again, and then refused to stop buzzing.

Was he...? He's spam calling me! I got a collective notification count for 30 texts!

I grabbed my gun, and sent him one text: "Give me a minute. These injuries hurt like a bitch."

Another notification for 30 texts, all of which were him mashing the phones keyboard with worry.

I got my gun, and watched until everyone was gone; the reporters ran out of 'information', the firemen and police taped off the whole thing, and the first responders had gotten all of the people to the hospital. I had called Fury a while ago, letting him know that we wouldn't all be returning together. He was upset, of course, but quickly hung up the phone to save my ass, when James broke into his office, screaming about me and my 'serious injuries.'

The injury on my side stopped bleeding after an hour, and it wasn't deep. It was like a bigger version of a scrape on the knee.

Maybe he thinks I hit my head from the reporter on the news? Who knows.

All I know, is that the Quinjet was hovering over the rooftop I sat on, in stealth mode, watching me.

Because or course Fury couldn't hold off James forever.

I could have gotten back by plane, or boat, but I stayed put, watching as everyone was removed from the wreckage.

Our target wasn't eliminated; he was left with minimal injuries.

But, now he was back, surveying the rooftops for whoever tried to end him-- me-- and coming up empty.

I came here to do a job, and I'm not leaving until it's done.

The gas we put in his office should have killed him. It was a fluke.

So, now it's the old fashioned way.

My rifle went to my shoulder as I crouched down, my eyes zeroing in on him like he was prey.

To me, right now, he was.

I breathed in deep, my finger tightening its chokehold on the trigger.

I fired.

His neck, now with a gaping whole through the middle like a tunnel, jerked forward before he fell.

I hit my target; the bullet went through the right side of his neck, hitting one jugular vein, and then went out the other end, hitting the second vein and his spinal cord.

He went down without a sound of pain, just a thump of something hitting the ground. I stood up, before I got back to the ground. I looked around before putting on my face mask, sitting on my haunches as I looked over my prey.

Wallet and I.D.? check. Identifying tattoo on his neck? A little messed up now, but check. Mission completed? Check.

I looked up at the Quinjet, before I waved. It came into view a second later, and James came running out, hugging me so tight he was going to break my ribs.

"You didn't call me back! And how dare you text me that!?!" He shouted, glaring at me. I chuckled, until it turned into a laugh.

"Stop laughing!"

I took off my mask, and gave him a big, wet kiss on the lips.

He lifted my shirt after pulling away from the kiss, inspecting my side.

"It'll bruise. And hurt. A lot." He observed, and I nodded, letting him help me into the jet as everyone watched, amused.

"Clint and Nat are being checked for injuries back at Shield. That doctor didn't seem impressed when we told him you were hurt." Steve filled me in, and I grimaced.

"He's just being a mean ol' Bastard. Give him time."

I sat with James as he snuggled into my side, my head resting on his, as his was laid on my shoulder.

Tonight was a long night.

I just hope that means an even longer sleep.