Fight Club
Bucky is shaking with anger as he yanks his belt closed; the gun holsters shake and bump against his thigh, but he doesn’t notice. The engine of the jet is whirring as the aircraft shudders, carrying him through the bright blue sky miles above the ocean, but he doesn’t notice.
“I told him this was a bad idea,” he grumbles to himself, since there’s no one else on board to complain to. Mimicking Stark, Bucky raises his voice, “‘Oh, sure, Sam and Agent 28 will be fine - they work great together - it’s a simple mission! You just stay here and do your paperwork like a good boy, Barnes!’”
Bucky scoffs. Belt secure, he starts on thigh holsters next. But thigh holsters remind him of you, and that just flares up his irritation again.
“‘Don’t worry about me, Bucky; I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself’,” he mocks. “Huh! That’s why you’ve gone off the grid in the wild jungles of Thailand, isn’t it, huh babe?”
There’s no answer. The jet rumbles on.
“I’m going to kill Sam,” is Bucky’s next growl, and with no less than six knives strapped to various parts of his body, he stalks back up to the front of the jet where the autopilot has things in hand - but that leaves Bucky to be angry more.
“‘Fake dating as tourists is one of the easiest cons to run’,” he imitates Natasha next, crossing his arms as his leg jitters. “‘Since neither Sam or 28 speak Thai, it’ll be easier to sell it. Might make it hard to get the information they need, though.’”
Forget native language experience. How about the fact that it had taken you and Sam three whole, frigging weeks to even find where the target was hiding? How about that the night after reporting that you were going in to investigate, all communication had gone totally, completely, blank? How good is the fake dating now?
Bucky had not been a fan of the idea. Not that he could’ve protested, anyway. Remembering that coy, laughing look on your face as you had packed your suitcase for the mission, teasing Bucky all the while, makes him want to scream.
But he hadn’t. Not even when he stopped getting texts from you - that’s pretty normal, for a mission. He’d stayed calm. Shouldn’t have.
Back to Tony. “‘Uh, hey, Barnes, we haven’t heard from 28 and Sam in a few days. I’m sending you on an extraction mission - like I didn’t tell you this was a bad idea in the first place - just bring them back safe, yeah?” Bucky rolls his eyes even though no one can see. “Yeah, Stark, I’ll bring them back, all right. I’m dragging both of them back by their ears.”
He scowls at the vista of Pacific Ocean far below. He scowls at the distant line of fuzzy grey as the jet approaches land. He scowls. He scowls, he scowls, he scowls.
“You are never going anywhere without me again, d’ya hear?” Bucky growls, but you’re not there to answer. Or tease him out of his mood.
Stark may have waited longer than the policy 48 hours after radio silence before sending backup, but he had made arrangements for Bucky to land north of Bangkok at the last airfield before the jungle. It’s midmorning local time, and Bucky is almost surprised out of his irritation as he stalks off the gangway with his bag over his shoulder to see a waiting Jeep and a man in a white shirt.
Luckily Bucky’s Thai is still up to par.
The man, a local guide, gives five minutes of directions after Bucky refuses his help driving. He’ll drive himself. A river to the west is flooded - good information. There are electric fences fourteen kilometers that way; a break in the fence can be found around a wildlife sanctuary. All fine.
Bucky throws his bag in the back of the Jeep, and climbs into the driver’s seat.
It’s already hot. For all of Stark’s money and travel arrangements, he should have gotten a car with working air conditioning, at least. Ten miles into the tense woodland, and Bucky has to pull over to shrug off his outer layers. It goes against his ever instinct to be baring his metal arm in unknown territory like this, but his skin is melting. Drops of sweat are beaded on his face and neck, and his jacket is soaked. Just the black tank top he’d thrown on underneath, it is. Now everyone will see the firepower he’s packing.
That’s sounding like a good thing. Bucky is not here to play around.
The resort you and Sam had been sent to is on the coast line, nestled against the foothills of a mountain and buried in thick foliage. It’s only a four hour drive, and when Bucky gets there, he parks several hundred feet from the paved entrance and stalks up to the property on foot.
The villa reserved under false names is empty. No luggage.
Bucky stalks back to the car.
“Tony,” he growls over the phone. “Where are they?”
“I’ve been working on it, okay?” Stark replies, sounding peeved. “I had to hack into a few different - ”
“I don’t care what you had to do - give me their damn location or I can’t extract them like you ordered me to!”
“Sheesh, the mosquitos getting you?”
Bucky slaps his bare arm with a metal hand. It stings, and smears the dead insect across his skin. “No,” he snaps.
“I’m sending the coordinates of their trackers when they went off. I’ve triangulated it with some signals in the area - I don’t know what you’re gonna find there, Barnes, but be careful.”
Bucky twists the key in the ignition, the heavy engine rumbling. “I’m always careful.” A stinging on his neck, and he smacks that next. A click as the phone call is ended.
Stark’s location takes him west. After another few hours, Bucky has to stop to fill the tank with gas, to the delight of some wide-eyed locals. Great. The Winter Soldier is about to make more headlines.
Soon the roads aren’t paved anymore, and the jungle underbrush gets thicker. The sweat and mosquito bites are driving Bucky absolutely bonkers; he steers with one hand on the wheel while he itches furiously with the other, temper darkening more and more by the minute. He’s mad at Stark, he’s mad at Sam, he’s mad at you - he’s mad at himself for letting you go off with Sam alone.
He’s terrified, too, at the heart of it.
It’s past noon, though the sun is barely visible through the thick trees above, when Bucky catches sight of wiring through the trees. Cameras. He pulls over and stops the car. Time to walk - two miles to go to meet Stark’s coordinates, anyway.
Bucky moves from tree to tree , his eyes flickering from side to side as he observes the security going on - it’s simple enough, but it takes concentration to stay out of the line of sight. Every so often he can hear a buzzing: electric fencing, or traps somewhere. He moves away from the buzzing.
Finally, the noise of people reach him. Crouching behind a massive tree, Bucky sucks in the humid air as he rubs down his itching skin. At least one arm feels fine - except that the metal is blisteringly hot to the touch. There’s just no winning.
He peers around the trunk of the tree. Some rooftops, in the distance, and to his surprise, a blast of cooler air hits his face. It feels marvelous, and then he notices the green lake between the trees.
Oh. A lake. No wonder there are people here.
More observation finds a pair of rifle-wielding guards in treetop platforms, but they’re nowhere near Bucky - they’re about a quarter mile off, positioned around what looks like some concrete walls without a roof. He’ll go there to investigate last - no need jumping into the line of fire first thing.
Natasha would be proud of him for that decision.
Security is laxer on this side. More scrambling towards the lake, and Bucky realizes that the rooftops he was seeing belong to an enormous complex of houses - a house? It doesn’t look much different than the resort he’d visited earlier, and by the time he’s approaching a bamboo fence about waist-high, threaded with electric lines, he can see stunning balconies set over the lake, surrounded by carefully cultivated native flowers, with beach chairs and lazy fans whirring from pagodas.
What the hell?
Bucky takes the fence at a run, jumping over and landing on his feet on the bamboo walkway. He hesitates for only a moment - but no sign of alarm reaches his ears.
The view is stunning; he has to admit that. A few careful steps take him around the villa, but there’s no sign of anyone else being there - some peeks inside rooms show mosquito-netting hanging over white-sheeted beds, and trinkets of local deities in golds and jade.
On towards the next villa, confusion building by the second, and -
Bucky stalls in his tracks, his heart nearly leaping from his chest.
It’s you. Reclined in a beach chair in a swimsuit and a sheer cover up, sunglasses on your face, and sandals hanging from your bare feet. A yellow drink in one hand, which you stir with a straw.
“Stark sent me here to rescue you from this?” Bucky blurts, because he’s too shocked to think anything else.
You visibly jolt, without spilling a drop - turning towards him, Bucky’s heart gives another leap as a smile dawns on your face, and you shove your sunglasses up on your face.
“Bucky!” you exclaim, clearly delighted. “What are you doing here?”
“Extracting you and Sam from dire circumstances,” Bucky snaps. “What’s going on?”
“Oh, well - it’s a long story - ”
He plants his booted feet shoulder width apart, crossing his arms across his chest in a way that draws your attention and widens your eyes. Bucky watches as your tongue darts out to lick your lips, eyes on his bare arms - before he snarks,
“Where’s your boyfriend?”
Your eyes flicker up to his, a sly smile on your lips. “I’m looking at him.”
Bucky’s mood disappears in an instant. It always does, with you and your light-heartedness and your teasing - it’s not like he can stay mad at you for long, anyway. Sam, on the other hand…
“Explanation,” Bucky forces his voice to be severe, but it only widens your smile.
“This is the residence of the target Stark sent us to investigate,” you say, eyes sparkling. “He’s not the guy we’re looking for, by the way - ”
Bucky must have been distracted, because he suddenly jumps at the sound of approaching footsteps from inside the villa. A man appears, dressed in shorts with close-cropped black hair and tattoos up and down, and Bucky’s hand is on the gun at his hip before he can take a breath.
“Bucky,” you say soothingly, holding out a hand. “It’s fine. This is Chati Bunnag.”
The target. Bucky eyes him up and down, and Chati lifts his brows in return.
“Who’s this, cêā h̄ỵing?” Chati asks in English.
“It’s a long story,” you tell him, swinging your legs over the side of your chair to stand up. Drink on the ground, and you yawn as you stretch your arms above your head. Bucky’s eye twitches - it’s been a long month since you’d left on the mission, and were it not for the company, he just might tackle you. Should’ve chosen looser pants.
“You’re full of long stories today, aren’t you, babe?” Bucky growls.
“Oh, is this who you were telling me about?” Chati asks, his eyes lighting up. His scrutiny of Bucky is suddenly much more thorough - on his metal arm, on his sweaty and mussed hair, on his various weaponry.
“Sure is,” you chirp. “Which means it’s time for us to go. We needn’t intrude on your lovely hospitality anymore, Chati.”
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, cêā h̄ỵing,” Chati assures you. “And you - ” His head swivels to Bucky, “I can offer a very good paying job - ”
“Bucky doesn’t do private security,” you laugh. “And he’s coming home with me, sorry to say.”
Chati sighs, then flicks his head back inside. “Let’s go get your friend, yes?”
“I’ll grab my things first.” Your fingers wind through Bucky’s, and suddenly he’s being dragged into one of the villas, where your suitcase and things are neatly arranged on a mother-of-pearl enameled dresser.
Bucky is sure he knows exactly nothing that’s going on.
“Sam’s still in the cages,” you tell him, as you shrug out of your swimsuit cover up. Bucky glances around - but Chati hadn’t followed. Good. “I was going to negotiate his release tonight, but - ”
“Cages?” Bucky blurts, stunned back into the present. “Negotiate? Release?”
You laugh at his confusion - while donning pants and a shirt. And your thigh holster. Bucky’s mouth is watering, but he forces himself to listen.
“Welcome to the fight club of the Thai jungles,” you say.
“The - what?”
“Like I said, long story.”
Bucky follows you as you pick up your bag, and lead him out of the villa and across the compound, but no further explanation is forthcoming. At present. There’s a courtyard with a sparkling fountain; water pouring through the trunks of marble elephants and jasmine blossoms floating in the pool. Bucky stares, barely noticing as he exits through a massive teak door and back into the jungle.
“I would’ve contacted you to let you know we’re safe,” you tell him over your shoulder. “But Chati is particular about technology at his vacation home. There’s a no cell service, no WiFi rule. I was going to negotiate for that, too. Eventually.”
“So, is this guy a criminal, or what?”
“Well, sure.” You’re fast approaching the concrete structure Bucky had seen earlier, and a pair of guards hurry to open an iron door as they catch sight of you. Bucky blinks as you grin back at him to whisper, “Tax evasion.”
Huh. Bucky’s pretty sure he remembers the target being under investigation for human trafficking.
He doesn’t like being inside the walls. Bucky’s eyes dart left and right, noticing more guards patrolling a walkway near the top of the structure. A few people are surrounding a square in the middle marked off with bamboo, through which he can see two men exchanging blows and kicks to the delight of their audience.
Fight club, you’d said.
You walk straight past the brawl, and duck inside the structure.
Bucky blinks in the sudden darkness - cages, you’d said, and you weren’t wrong. There are beds of bamboo and leaves, at least, and the few people inside are chatting easily. You don’t stop walking until the very end, pausing at the last cage - room? Cell? - and Bucky sees Sam lying on his back on one of the beds, staring at the ceiling with a pinched expression.
“Hey, bird brain,” you say, tapping the iron rods that make up the cage part. “Time to go.”
Sam sits up, mouth falling open to see you - and then catching sight of Bucky and huffing in relief. Or anger.
“You’re okay,” he says weakly. “I thought they were gonna dump your body in the lake, babygirl - ”
“Oh, please,” you brush this away. “Chati is civilized.”
“Khun Bunnag?” Sam asks after a startled moment.
“Yep.”
“You’re on first name basis with him?”
“Obviously. Well - I am with him; he’s on first name basis with my alias.”
“When did you get here?” Sam nods towards Bucky as you unlatch the door to Sam’s cell.
“Fifteen minutes ago,” Bucky says.
“Oh, they didn’t make you fight?”
Bucky blinks. “...No?”
“Lucky you,” Sam says sarcastically. “See this?” He pulls up his dirty, ratty shirt to show off his ribs, purple and black and covering above ten inches in circumference. “I got this on initiation day.”
“Sam’s not very familiar with Thai street fighting,” you say to Bucky, your lips twitching as Sam limps out of the cell.
“And you are?” Bucky asks, bemused.
“How do you think I got out of the cages?” you retort. “By batting my eyelashes?”
“Yes,” says Sam.
“Yes,” says Bucky.
You huff. “I got put in a fight, won in about thirty seconds, and Chati fell madly in love with me. Who can blame him?”
Bucky stifles a laugh - turns it into a cough, and the three of you set off back out of the cages.
“Oh, how cute,” Sam says sarcastically. “28 has a boyfriend, who happens to run the toughest, roughest underground fight club in south Asia.”
Bucky tries not to look at you - but over the top of Sam’s head, he catches your eye - more coughing.
“I sure do,” you tease. “He calls me princess. Even offered to give me a tattoo, anywhere I like, free of charge.”
“Did you take him up on that?” Bucky blurts. The look in your sparkling eyes is clearly, “You’ll have to find that out, won’t you?”, but aloud you say,
“None of your business, Barnes.”
Oh, it’s his business.
To his total shock, the Jeep Bucky had driven in is waiting by the entrance when they exit the concrete compound. Chati is there, deep in discussion with a man wielding a rifle, but he turns with a smile when you approach.
“Cêā h̄ỵing,” he exclaims, and you laugh as he opens his arms for an embrace. Bucky grits his teeth together as Chati kisses each of your cheeks. “Are you sure you will not stay? With my Tigress, we could rule Bangkok! Perhaps even Shanghai.”
“Your dreams are bigger than mine,” you tease Chati lightly. Chati nods to this, though he gives a dramatic sigh of remorse, and his eyes land on Bucky. Bucky smacks a mosquito on his shoulder. A smile curls Chati’s lips.
“Well, if you ever change your mind, you will always have a place with me, cêā h̄ỵing.”
The guard tosses Bucky the keys, which had been hidden between the rim and rubber of the back left tire. He still doesn’t know what’s happening, he’s pretty sure.
Bucky climbs into the Jeep as Sam opens the passenger door, but you slide in before Sam can. “Sorry,” you say as Sam protests. “I get carsick.”
Bucky snorts. He can just imagine that charming smile on your face.
Sam sits in the backseat.
You roll down the window to wave goodbye to Chati, and Bucky guns it away from the complex.
The explanation is finally given during the ride through the jungle: you and Sam had been investigating Chati for human trafficking; the suspicion being that participants in these underground fights were kidnapped and forced. The two of you had finally learned the location of Chati’s vacation home, and gone into the jungle to find out what’s going on.
“We were caught unawares,” you say with a sigh. “We had to lie and say we wanted to join - so we were let in.”
“Biggest mistake of my life,” Sam grumbles from the backseat. “Never been so humiliated…” and his voice fades into more grumbles under his breath.
You had made a splash as a specially skillful fighter - especially being the first female in the complex since a legendary character the locals called Flying Crane. You’d caught Chati’s eye, and he’d taken you from the cages and into his home.
“Since he’s not a fan of technology while he’s on holiday, dealing with the fights, he keeps plenty of hard files,” you say. “I read through them - he evades taxes, by the way - but I didn’t find a shred of evidence for human trafficking. And I talked to as many guards and participants that know English, but they all came willingly. They’re paid pretty well.”
“So,” Bucky drawls, eyes on the rugged road ahead, and itching furiously at a bite on his elbow. “You spent a month in Thailand, only to find out that the man you were investigating evades taxes?”
“We were sent here on a mission to discover just that,” you remind him. “By Stark. You make it sound like I was just vacationing the entire time.”
Bucky grunts. The memory of you lounging in your bathing suit is still very fresh.
Sam’s head pops up between the two front seats. “This was hard work, man,” he says fervently. “You know how many grannies I hand to question with hand gestures in Phuket?”
“You loved it,” you say, digging your elbow into Sam’s arm until he retreats with a yelp.
“The food has been great, I can’t deny that - ”
“Chati does not skimp on food.” There’s a dreamy smile on your face as Bucky glances over at you.
“Well, now that we’re here,” he says at last. “You guys wanna take me out for some excellent grub? Make up for the fact that you pretty much ruined this mission.”
“Ruined?” Sam says indignantly.
“Ruined?” you gasp.
“Don’t even start,” Bucky says severely. “If Stark doesn’t write you up for this, I will.”
“Sure you will,” you say daringly, and there’s a twitch to your lips. Oh, no. You’re gonna convince him otherwise, Bucky knows it. He shifts awkwardly in the seat, forcing his eyes back to the road. He scratches his jaw. Damn mosquitoes.
The sun is deepening to orange by the time Bucky’s nearing the airfield where the jet is parked. But he takes a turn, and goes into the town his guide had pointed out earlier that day, instead. Since the worry is mostly out of his system (not all the annoyance, though), he really is getting hungry.
He wonders if there’s a way to get rid of Sam and keep you...he’s pretty sure the reservations at the resort are good for another week…
A shack in the twilight, light by a single, flickering bulb, and plastic chairs around a flat top propped up on an empty gas drum. You’ve picked up some Thai (from Chati? Bucky doesn’t like that thought, but he doesn’t correct your grammar, either), and you’re smiling at the little old lady rushing around, clearly startled to have this group of patrons.
Dish after steaming dish is brought to the table - Bucky’s mouth is watering, and Sam doesn’t wait to dig in. Green curry, yellow curry, red curry, deep fried spring rolls, a whole roasted fish with lime and basil, an herby green salad piled high with sizzling beef and three enormous bowls of rice.
He doesn’t remember afterward what the conversation is: you’re teasing, Sam is grumbling around mouthfuls of food, and Bucky is laughing until his sides hurt. His tongue is burning, but he doesn’t really notice. There’s lukewarm water, and a frothy mango drink.
Stars are twinkling in the sky by the time the dishes are finally cleaned out and empty, and the little lady carries them back inside the shack. Moths flutter around the lightbulb above. Sam leans back in his chair, patting his protruding stomach as he sighs in contentment. Bucky feels similarly - watching as you chug from a bottle of water, he stretches out his legs and his knee bonks into yours. Your eyes meet his - there’s a shadow of a smile.
“I’m beat,” Sam says, closing his eyes in bliss. “I’m almost ready to forgive everything that has happened to me in the last five days.”
“And just think, we have nine hours in the Quinjet,” you tease, laying out a stack of Thai baht to pay for the meal. “Then you’ll definitely be more forgiving.”
Sam groans. “I can’t even think about facing Tony right now.” Then he hoists himself up, rubbing his eyes blearily. “I’m gonna go lay down in the back of the Jeep. I need to digest before we get in the air.”
Bucky meets your eyes over the table - and quickly looks away to keep from laughing. Sam’s footsteps fade, and the chatter of the deep night activity down the street takes over. Just for a few moments.
“I thought he’d never leave,” you sigh, and you reach over to cover Bucky’s hand with yours. He arches a brow, noting your smirk.
“You think you’re getting that outta me, babe?” Bucky scolds. “After all this?”
“All this?” you feign innocence, eyes wide and sparkling in the glow from the overhead lightbulb.
“Fake dating Sam; running off to Thailand for what was practically a vacation - cozying up to some sort of fight club financier,” Bucky says coldly.
“It was the mission,” you say with a laugh. “Would’ve preferred you to Sam, anyway - but you had your paperwork after that whole thing in Rio - ”
“Don’t - ” Bucky points a finger at your face. “ - even think about bringing that up, you little wench.”
You attempt a serious face for about five seconds - then your lips twitch, your eyes sparkle, and you’re laughing aloud - Bucky sighs, grumbling a bit to himself.
“You scared me, alright?” he growls at last, as you draw your hand away from his - he catches it, and leans forward on his knees to address you in a softer voice. “Thinking my girl was halfway across the world - in prison, getting beaten or starved to death, if she wasn’t dead already…”
“Aw, Buck,” you coo, and lean forward as well, so that your faces are about two inches apart. Bucky can smell your familiar scent, but it’s tinged by some exotica he doesn’t recognize. “You were worried about me.”
“‘Course I was,” he says gruffly. “And now I’m almost thinking I lost you to some gang leader - ”
“Hardly a gang,” you tease.
“Whatever.” Bucky traces little circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. The noise of the streets is far away - as far as he’s concerned, it’s just you and him. Him, and your smile.
“I hope Sam sleeps on the jet,” you say softly.
“There’s always some of those heavy meds Stark keeps on hand we can sneak into some water or something,” Bucky suggests, and you giggle.
“I like that idea, Sergeant Barnes,” you croon. “Good to know you haven’t lost your romantic flair since I’ve been away.”
Bucky is laughing as he hoists you to your feet, and keeps an arm around your shoulders to return to the Jeep.
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