Chapter Text
SUNDAY
Steve loves Peggy. Of course he does, she’s his girlfriend, they’ve been going steady for four years now. She’s smart, beautiful, and takes care of everything. And he enjoys spending time with her. It’s just… these guys-only trips that he’s been having with Bucky for about a decade are pretty much essential to his happiness.
When Peggy asked him to postpone this trip because she wanted him to go to a gallery opening with her instead, it sparked a fight. She made some good points – there were some very important people there who knew someone that Peggy knew, and it would have been great for Steve’s career. Plus, maybe she sort of brought it up a few times before he and Bucky even booked the cabin and maybe he forgot all about it. And… he didn’t exactly tell her about the trip until recently. But he felt nauseous at the idea of pushing aside the trip with Bucky just to spend a night networking with people he probably wouldn’t like anyway (his biggest grievance with the art world was how much you had to get along with rich people. It’s the worst). He just – he needed to get out of the city, and he needed to see Bucky.
To be fair, it wasn’t like he and Bucky didn’t get to see each other. But ever since he and Peggy moved to Soho, it was as though they moved to a whole different city. Bucky, of course, was still in Red Hook, which was a 45 minute train ride away. But between their schedules and their partners’ schedules, it was pretty difficult to find time. Plus, if he and Bucky met up in the city, chances were that Peggy and Natasha would be tagging along. Which was fine. It just made things different than if it were just he and Bucky hanging out.
Natasha was… interesting. She and Bucky met because she was the tattoo artist Bucky hired for a piece on his shoulder. They hit it off and he ended up asking for her number after the work was done. Steve saw the appeal. She was very sexy, with an hourglass figure and a smooth aloofness that made her seem cool and mysterious. He would definitely try to pick her up in a bar if he were single and looking for a one-night stand. But he didn’t really understand her and Bucky’s relationship. They were polyamorous, which really just meant that Natasha had a girlfriend named Maria in Greenpoint. At first this sounded like the dream – what sort of man wouldn’t enjoy being in a relationship with two hot women instead of just one? But apparently it didn’t work that way. Bucky had laughed it off when Steve asked about threesomes and said that it was more like, Natasha spent four nights at his place and three nights at Maria’s place, and there wasn’t really much overlap other than the occasional brunch.
Bucky seemed really happy with the arrangement, but Steve didn’t understand. If he were in a relationship with Bucky (if he were a woman, of course), he wouldn’t want to be with anyone else. Bucky was great. He was funny and loyal, one of the nicest and bravest guys Steve ever knew. And, objectively, Steve could say that Bucky was handsome for sure. Sometimes Steve found himself distracted by his friend’s good looks when the light hit Bucky’s eyes, or if he stretched his arms out to ease the ache in his muscles, or if he wrinkled his nose while laughing at one of Steve’s dumb jokes, or if he tucked his hair behind his ear, or if he gave that shy, bashful smile that he seemed to have only for Steve. God, if Steve were a woman and actually attracted to Bucky, he’d never get anything done! But whatever.
Anyway, it was nice to have these guys-trips with just him and Bucky to have some good old-fashioned bonding time. But, yeah, he and Peggy did not say goodbye to each other on very good terms. She had given him a curt kiss on his cheek as he left the apartment but when she shut the door, it felt more like a slam.
Steve, with his camping backpack on his back and a duffle bag slung on his shoulder, caught a taxi to Penn Station. It was nice out for the uptown drive – it was an unassuming late Sunday morning, about as quiet as it gets in the city, with many New Yorkers sleeping off hangovers and most of the midtown drones having the day off. The sun was bright, and it was promising to be a beautiful summer day. When they arrived, Steve wasted no time paying for the ride and hopping out with his bags in tow. He urgently made his way down several sets of stairs and a ridiculously long escalator, finally arriving at the bright and shiny Moynihan train hall but of course, he was not the first to arrive.
While Steve was fifteen minutes early, there was Bucky already, leaning back against the railing with bags at his feet and Natasha at his side, both of them holding lattes and wearing matching leather jackets. Natasha had sunglasses on even though they were indoors and not even standing under the skylight. She looked like she was about to try to sell dope to kids in an after school special.
“Bucky!” Steve greeted, distantly aware that he was grinning like an idiot. Bucky smiled in turn and held out an arm, drawing Steve into a hug that resulted in his latte spilling a bit. Bucky was about an inch taller than Steve, and while Steve had a swimmer’s body, Bucky worked out more and had more muscle, but even still Steve slung his arm over the other man’s shoulder in the hug.
Natasha smirked. “You’d think it’d been seventy years since you guys last saw each other, and not two weeks.” She slyly took the latte out of Bucky’s hands and sipped off the coffee pooling in the lid. Bucky used the freedom of his left hand to deepen the hug with Steve and land a few friendly slaps on the blonde’s back.
“Ignore her,” Bucky said as they pulled apart. There were bags under his eyes; another thing that Steve was anxious about when it came to Natasha was how the woman never seemed to sleep, staying out until the late hours of the night and somehow still always being the first to arrive no matter how early the morning. Bucky somehow was always swept up in it.
“When was the last time you even left the city, Natasha?” Steve asked the short woman.
She hummed, her delicate eyebrows arching out from under the thick sunglasses still perched on her nose, “Minsk. 2011.”
“Minsk? Why on earth would anyone want to go to Minsk?” Steve knew that she was Russian and wasn’t sure why he felt the need to rib her. It was an involuntary impulse.
Natasha didn’t answer for a long moment before saying lowly, “There was unfinished business.” Geez, what a cheeseball. Steve wasn’t even going to entertain her at this point.
“I know Maria wants you to join her trip to Jamaica in August,” Bucky said to her with a teasing smirk. “Far better weather. Nice beaches.”
Natasha shrugged off-handedly before delicately placing Bucky’s latte back in his hand, “You two have fun. See you in four days.”
“It’s actually five days,” Steve reminded her as she placed a slow kiss to Bucky’s cheek. She didn’t acknowledge the correction and sashayed off, disappearing into the crowd as though she were a top-secret spy and not a stupidly overpaid tattoo artist.
“She’s totally gonna go to Jamaica,” Bucky said conspiratorially, “I caught her shopping for sandals on her phone.” He said it as though it were damning evidence. Maybe if Steve knew Natasha better, he’d agree.
By the time Steve got his own coffee from Bluestone, the train had arrived, and he and Bucky were dragging their bags onboard to scout out two decently secluded seats.
As they settled in, Bucky was chatting quietly about his and Natasha’s adventures the night before – apparently, they went bar hopping before checking out an art exhibit that a friend of hers opened, after which they crashed a party in Crown Heights, then closed down the bar downstairs from their apartment before finally passing out right before dawn. Steve thought it sounded fun but also exhausting. Sure enough, Bucky ended up nodding off to sleep, his head nuzzling against Steve’s shoulder. It felt really nice.
The scenery from outside the train windows melted from urban landscape to lush foliage and blue sky. Steve knew that this trip wasn’t a mistake. He rested his head against Bucky’s and rested his eyes.
--
Bucky fortunately woke up by the time they arrived at their station, sheepishly apologizing for falling asleep on Steve. Steve waved off the apologies; Bucky should never feel bad for resting and taking care of himself. And besides, it felt nice. He didn’t mention that last part, didn’t want the brunette to feel weird about it.
They rented a car and punched in the cabin’s address into the GPS. It was a nice drive, mostly quiet as the two men admired the scenery of the mountains and lakes. That was the nice thing about Bucky; he didn’t need to talk to fill in the silence. They could just sit here and enjoy each other’s company. Sometimes Steve thought that Peggy didn’t know how to turn off, she was always talking and planning and thinking about the future. But Bucky, he just enjoyed the moment.
After quite a bit of driving through winding mountains, the GPS navigator announced a left turn coming up. As they approached, they saw that the route was onto a dirt road, barely distinguishable from the rest of the forest. Steve was nervous about the rental car’s ability to drive off-road, especially with the ominous noises from the axles as it lurched off the pavement. Bucky had shrugged; the man didn’t even have a driving license, much less know anything about car maintenance. Debris and pebbles rattled against the car’s undercarriage and Steve was beginning to worry about damage when they thankfully spotted the cabin.
It was further up the slope of the mountain, under the shade of the forest. It was peaceful, nice. The city may as well have been a whole world away. No neighbors, no traffic. Tranquil. Steve pulled off the road and onto a spot that seemed to be where people should park and turned off the car. Bucky immediately hopped out and stretched his arms, letting out a little satisfied groan as he did so.
“Wow. Looks great,” the brunette said, looking over his shoulder at Steve with a happy grin that inevitable provoked an answering smile from Steve.
The cabin itself was cozy and simple; a living room with a small old-fashioned television and couch, a kitchenette, a room with twin beds. There were some creepy taxidermized deer heads on the wall and a stuffed turkey, its black and grey wings spread mid-flight. Bucky winced at them in an exaggerated way that made Steve laugh.
“I’m gonna take a shower,” he told Bucky after they brought in the bags. Travel always made him feel a little gross.
The bathroom was pretty small, definitely not made for tall men like Steve and Bucky. Steve decided to pick a good spot to put his bottles before Bucky claimed most of the shower real estate with his plethora of hair products. As he scrubbed under the hot spray of the shower and stared at the vintage sepia tiles, he wondered if he should call Peggy or not. She was probably getting ready for the gallery opening now. Assuming that she was still going. He figured she would.
He was still considering it when he came out the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist, and saw Bucky lounging on the spare bed. The brunette had his phone in his hands and a pout on his face. Steve asked him what was up.
“No service,” Bucky replied with a sigh. “I was trying to text Natasha that we arrived but it’s not going through.”
Steve grunted in acknowledgement. Well, that answered the question of whether or not to call Peggy. He tried to pretend that he didn’t feel relieved. He would probably get hell for it by the time he got back to civilization but at least he had an excuse.
“Wanna go to that store we saw on the way in?” he asked as he dropped the towel to put on his shorts. He looked over to see Bucky studiously staring at the floor, a strange flush on his face.
“Yeah, that sounds good,” the brunette said before arching up into another stretch. Despite the nap on the train, the man looked tired. Steve figured it would be an early day today.
The store wasn’t far, just a mile up the road. If it weren’t for the lack of pavement, Steve would have even considered walking. But that was the New Yorker in him, a mile on foot never seemed that far when it was a concrete grid instead of wild terrain.
After a few minutes of bumpy rocky-road driving, they pulled into the store parking lot. Steve noticed that as small as it was, it was almost completely empty. This place really was isolated.
The store was well-stocked, even as empty as it was. The unflattering fluorescent light of the grocery store only highlighted the bags under Bucky’s eyes. Steve threw a couple of frozen pizzas into the cart – they got steaks too, but he wanted this night’s dinner to be quick and easy for an early night in.
Bucky waggled his eyebrows as he lifted a case of beer, “Can’t spell guys trip without B-E-E-R.” It wasn’t a beer that Steve recognized, some sort of pretentious brewery.
Steve snorted and led them to check out. “You’re an idiot.”
The woman behind the cash register was as old as dirt but moved with the efficiency of a machine as she rang up their groceries. She kept giving them these looks, like she was trying to figure something out. Steve was enjoying how low the total of the grocery bill was, despite all the food they bought, when she spoke up.
“You two stayin’ around here?” she asked in a raspy smoker’s voice.
Steve shifted uncomfortably. He hoped she wasn't some evangelist trying to slip them a Jesus flyer.
“Yep,” Bucky replied, as light-hearted as sunshine. “Staying at a cabin up the road.”
The woman swallowed and nodded to herself, as though that confirmed some sort of suspicion. “Hmph. I can guess. Lotsa people come in from the city, buy cheap cabins, rent them out to unsuspecting folks.”
“The website said this place was locally owned,” Steve said weakly. If this was something that was hurting the local economy, that really didn’t sit well with him. He thought he did his research.
“Some of them say that,” she mumbled, “but if they were really locals, they’d never invite folks into these parts. Too dangerous. Here.” Without much warning, she grabbed something from behind her register and stuck her hand out to Steve. He hesitantly reached out to take it.
She was handing him two chain necklaces of some kind, with pendants of silver-looking bars with some sort of white herb wrapped around them with a red ribbon. They looked homemade and he wasn’t sure why she was handing them over.
“Please,” she said in a light whisper, “Please wear these if you go out at night. Or at least keep 'em in your pockets. It’s dangerous. They will protect you boys.” Steve noticed that she was wearing one herself, hanging around her neck and resting on her pink cardigan.
“Okay,” he said. He felt bad for the woman, she seemed genuinely scared for them. He wondered if this had something to do with some sort of cult or something… He took the necklaces and handed one to Bucky, who dutifully put it on.
“It’s pretty. What does it do?” Bucky asked her.
“If I told you, you’d never believe me. And hey, maybe I’m crazy, but please, just this one time…” she sighed and handed Steve his receipt with imploring eyes. “Listen to the crazy lady.”
Steve was admittedly a little relieved when they left the store and loaded up the car.
The sun was beginning to set, golden light trickling from behind the leaves. The necklace felt heavy in his pocket.
“Oka-ay,” Bucky sighed as he settled in the car. “That was a little unsettling. What do you think, local boogieman?”
“I figured some sort of cult,” Steve said lowly.
“It’s a cool necklace regardless,” Bucky remarked as he examined the pendant. “Do you think it’s real silver?”
“Nah,” Steve said as they drove off, “Probably some knock-off from Etsy.”
--
Dinner was easy, just like Steve wanted. Two frozen pizzas, quickly consumed by the men as they watched late-night talk shows. Bucky’s feet were propped up on the coffee table, Steve’s arm rested along the back of the couch, resting a beer on his knee.
The rest of the beers were already demolished. For light beers, they were hitting kind of hard. Steve felt like his head was swimming.
“Why’d we come all the way out here just to watch something that was filmed two stops away from your apartment?” Bucky wondered out loud. He was playing with the necklace from the grocery store, still around his neck. Steve had put his in his duffle bag, chalked it up to a strange souvenir.
Steve hummed. “More like four stops.”
“Wanna go for a walk?” Bucky asked, turning his face up to Steve. “Moon’s bright.”
“I wouldn’t wanna get lost,” Steve said hesitantly.
“We won’t go far.”
Bucky was right, the moon was bright, casting over a small clearing behind the cabin. Out here, the stars were so clear, it made the nightsky feel so encompassing. They walked for a bit, just far enough without losing sight of the cabin.
They were both stargazing when a sudden rustling noise came from the bushes nearest.
“What the hell was that?” Bucky asked. He turned to Steve and Steve couldn’t help but notice how the moonlight hit his eyes, blue on blue. He stared for a moment, wanted to commit the sight to memory.
“Probably just some animal,” Steve said hoarsely. He cleared his throat and looked back into the darkness. It was kind of spooky out here.
“Hmm.” Bucky visibly shrugged it off. He yawned, his eyelids heavy and low. Steve just wanted to wrap him up in a blanket burrito.
“Tired?” Steve asked.
“Yeah. Beer’s getting to me. I might head in, actually.” Bucky turned back to the cabin and began to walk back. “You comin?”
“I, uh…” Steve swallowed dryly. Out here, with just Bucky in the moonlight, he felt raw. Exposed. He needed to collect himself. “You go ahead. I won’t be long.”
“Alright,” Bucky said and left with a lazy wave.
Steve stayed out there for quite some time, deciding eventually to sit on the grassy ground and just stare up at the stars and the bright, full moon. It was so quiet out here, all the whispers that he tried to cover up in the back of his head were coming out of the woodwork. When he returned to the city, was he going to try to make it up to Peggy? They had been having problems for quite some time. But she and he were such a great team when it came to his art career. Leaving her would be leaving behind a world of opportunity.
He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t register the sound of soft footsteps creeping closer. Nor the distant breathing of a predator watching.
And that’s when the attack happened.