Title: Trust
Fandom: Captain America: Winter Solider, DC's Legends of Tomorrow
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with DC or Marvel. Neither is my toy box and I'm merely playing.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: After Mick helps him fight off Hydra Bucky decides to trust him.
A/N: Written for [community profile] fandomweekly on Dreamwidth, Amnesty 3, prompt 26 Amnesia. I know I want to continue this and that it takes place some time in Season 2 for Legends of Tomorrow, but haven't quite figured out where it would fit in yet. Suggestions?


Mick pulls a beer out of the bag he’s carrying and sets it in front of Bucky, who’s already sitting at the small kitchen table in his barely furnished apartment. Mick sets a bottle opener next to the beer. “Got a name?”

Bucky reminds himself that he’s safe. He’s let Mick into his apartment because the man had helped him fend off the Hydra agents that had attempted to overwhelm him. He knows they weren’t followed, but Hydra knows what city he lives in, it’s dangerous.

“I don’t know you?” he checks.

“No,” Mick tells him gruffly.

“You saved me,” Bucky says, trying the sentence on for size.

“No,” Mick grumbles, dropping down in the chair across from him. “Hydra is Nazis and I love beating up Nazis. What they want with you?”

Bucky studies Mick, take a brief moment to access him. The man is dangerous, but he looks tired, worn. He trusts enough to bring the man to his apartment, with its multiple exits, for a moment to breathe before he packs a bag and moves again, but should he trust Mick with more?

Bucky decides to take a chance. “They want to wipe my memory again so they can use me as a weapon.”

Mick lets out a heavy breath, bag slipping from his fingers to the floor. He pops open the beer and drains half of it. He pulls another out, opens it and pushes it across the table. “They show up and I’ll roast them for you.”

Bucky nods his understanding.

Mick finishes his beer slowly, then places his bag on the table. “Does your stove work?”

He nods again.

“You allergic to any food?”

“I need to leave,” he reminds.

Mick snorts. “You need therapy.”

“It’s not safe to stay.”

“Crew decided I wasn’t needed for this mission so I decided I’d make myself dinner,” Mick explains. “I’m planning on using your kitchen. You can stay and eat or you can get your stuff together, cut tail, and run. I won’t stop you. If Nazis show up I’ll roast them.”

Mick picks up his bag and moves into the kitchen, shifting through the sparse cabinets and pulling things out. Bucky watches him warily. He needs to leave. He pushes the hair out of his face as he watches Mick cook. He glances towards the door. They weren’t followed, he reminds himself. He picks up the beer and joins Mick in the kitchen, “How can I help?”

Mick gives him a sideways look. “Don’t have to give me your name, but allergies?”

Bucky shakes his head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

Mick grunts, then starts giving him instructions. They cook, occasionally taking sips of their beers, until Mick is putting it all on plates. Bucky frowns, he only has one set of silverware. Mick takes it, cuts up his own food, then hands over the knife and fork before he starts using the spoon.

“Thank you,” Bucky acknowledges before he starts eating his own food.

Mick shrugs.

As they eat Bucky feels himself start to relax. He’s got good food, a beer, and someone to watch his back. He’s not sure he’s ready to give that up.

“I have gaps in my memory,” Mick tells him, breaking the companionable silence.

Bucky tilts his head, frowning.

“Group calling themselves the Time Masters decided I’d be one of their weapons and had fun playing with my head. Memory had gaps before they decided I was a thing to be used. My shrink says it’s from traumatic events. They…Time Masters sent me to kill my best friend. He insisted the crew we were running with save me.”

Bucky stares, eyes widening, his grip on his fork tightening. The way the words are coming out of Mick, slow and painful, he doesn’t doubt them.

Mick looks away a moment, then his jaw tightens and he takes a breath. “Didn’t even remember how much he meant to me when he went and sacrificed himself to save me.”

“I don’t want him to.”

Mick meets his eyes and then raises his eyebrows.

“My friend, Steve. I don’t want him to,” Bucky explains.

Mick nods.

“There are other chairs and possible triggers.”

“Let’s destroy ‘em.”

Hoping he’s not making a mistake Bucky offers, “The people who are nice to me call me Bucky.”

Mick’s eyes widen slightly, but he nods minutely. They go back to eating. When they finish Mick asks. “How do you feel about time travel?”

“Some days I feel like I have experience.”

“How would you like to go someplace they wouldn’t even think to find you?” Mick offers.

“You have people, a mission,” Bucky hesitates.

“They’re not the boss of me and I’ve been looking for a partner.”
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