Chapter Text
Kate glances over at her phone.
It’s buzzing against the dining table, but the call is from an unknown number. She considers letting it go to voicemail. It’s most likely some kind of scam about her nonexistent car warranty or one of those robocalls where there’s three seconds of silence and then a beep, which is ultimately harmless, but still a waste of time and also a huge annoyance.
Then, she thinks: What if it’s Clint?
She does have his actual phone number now—like, saved and everything, with an emoji next to it because she’s a good friend—but she also knows that Clint is in the habit of using burner phones from time to time, or if things get bad. Oh god, what if this is something bad? It could be I’m Hawkeye the coolest Avenger but I still need backup levels of bad.
Okay, okay. Be cool, Kate.
If it’s Clint, and it’s bad, then Kate’s going to need her bow. Because she obviously can’t take a potential distress call without it. She reaches across the couch to where it’s propped up, accidentally sending a half-empty bag of gummy bears tumbling to the floor. Whatever. Emergencies, and all that. It’s fine. Clearing her throat, Kate swipes to answer and lifts the phone to her ear. It could be a hostage situation. It could be an ambush. It could be the goddamn Tracksuit Mafia back and reformed and ready to cause trouble.
He could be calling her in for Avengers business.
“Hello?” answers Kate, trying very, very hard not to sound eager.
“Good afternoon,” says the bright, cheerful voice of a man that is most definitely not Clint Barton. “Do you have a moment to talk about our Lord and Savior, Congressman Barnes?”
For a second, Kate thinks she’s misheard.
She pulls her phone away from her ear to stare at it, but the words don’t arrange themselves in any way that makes sense.
“…what?”
“Bucky Barnes!” says the unknown caller. “Everybody’s favorite sentinel. Centennial? Anyway, you might know him as our beloved congressman, or guy with the metal arm. He’s one of the heroes from the Howling Commandos, and also the Avengers, and also the New Avengers. But with a Z, because copyright. What you might not know is that Bucky is also Jesus Christ reborn.”
Kate frowns, puzzled. “I’m sorry, who is this?”
“I understand your hesitation,” says the caller, solemnly, undeterred. “But the signs are everywhere. Literal signs. You ever notice how his initials are JB? James Barnes. Jesus of Bethlehem. Coincidence? I don’t think so. Not to mention his miraculous hair.”
Kate blinks. “Okay, um—”
The voice steamrolls right over her. “I’m sure you’ve gotten a look at those princely locks on TV, and how could a look like that be anything but divine? The beard that arrives exactly when it’s needed most. A brother to Captain America, which is basically being a right-hand man to a modern messiah, but better because it comes with a vibranium arm. Vibranium is a metaphor for disciples in this analogy, by the way. But also not a metaphor, because it is also his literal arm. It’s still majestic though!”
“I think you might have—”
“Might have witnessed the truth? Yes, I have. And I know, I know, it’s a lot to take it at once. I get it, really. I do. It can be overwhelming. The mortal mind isn’t meant to comprehend such perfection. But our divine Congressman, the saintly Bucky Barnes works in mysterious ways. Like how he always shows up at exactly the last possible second in a fight, with his hair perfectly tousled. Watch the footage. It’s glowing in the sunlight. You know what that means? Miracles. Divinity. Good looks.”
“I don’t think—”
“It’s all right there in the Book of Bucky. Chapter three, verse ten: And there! Congressman Barnes rose again, like a phoenix, but even cooler, because he’s awesome like that, and the wicked Hydra wept at his vengeance. It’s beautiful stuff, really. There’s, like, nineteen hundred and seventeen chapters all on him and his good work. He can offer you miracles too! You just need to open your mind and accept him into your heart.”
Her mouth stumbles over the phrases what the fuck and oh god.
She ends up saying, “What the god—”
“Yes!” the voice says triumphantly, and Kate thinks she can physically feel braincells dying in time with each word this guy is inflicting on her. She lets out a faint, strangled noise, somewhere between a sigh and a whimper, and sinks back down onto her couch, setting her bow aside like even it deserves a break from this madness. “Now you’re getting it! You feel it, don’t you? The soldier’s light moving through you! Praise be to Bucky, long may his hair reign!”
“Listen,” Kate says, finally getting a word past this weirdo’s ramblings. “I don’t know who you are, or what your deal is. But if you’re currently, like, coked out of your mind, there is help. Call someone, just not me. I have no idea how to help you, man.”
“Oh, I’m not coked out,” says the crazy, definitely coked out guy. “Not right now at least. Been before, don’t wanna do that again. Say, have you ever seen a sign-spinning chicken? Wasn’t coked out then, but I was on meth—”
Kate hangs up.
Later...
YELENA: 🙏🙏🙏
KATE: ???
YELENA: praise be to bucky
KATE: WAIT
KATE: WAS THAT YOU????
YELENA: maybe. maybe not.
KATE: IF IT WAS YOU, I’M OFFENDED
KATE: LIKE, DEEPLY
YELENA: what about spiritually?
KATE: YES SPIRITUALLY
KATE: EMOTIONALLY
KATE: EXISTENTIALLY
YELENA: good good
KATE: yelena wtf wAS THAT
YELENA: enlightenment
KATE: who was i talking to
YELENA: bob
KATE: WHO IS BOB
YELENA: wouldn’t you like to know :)
KATE: i literally JUST asked
KATE: TELL ME
YELENA: mmm no
YELENA: mystery is good for your soul
KATE: I HATE THIS
YELENA: soldier’s light be with you 🙏
KATE: i’m blocking you >:(
YELENA: you are no fun kate bishop
KATE: i can be plenty fun!!!
KATE: also i’m never answering unknown numbers again
YELENA: coward
KATE: 😤😤😤
Even later...
KATE: hey clint
KATE: random question
KATE: does yelena have your number saved
KATE: bc if not
KATE: >:)
CLINT 😎🏹: …?
Notes:
bob is a MAJOR fan over bucky’s new hair <33
also the numbers of chapters/verse mentioned are bucky’s birthdate
Chapter 2
Summary:
“Besides,” Bucky continues. “I don’t think Walker likes you like that.”
Sam stops dead. “…what?”
“That was John,” Bucky says, amusement plain in his voice. “The team was bored.”
In which Sam receives a strange call from an unknown number.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Sam glances over when his phone buzzes.
It’s an unknown number. Normally Sam would let it ring out, but Bucky’s got a habit of calling from whatever random phone is closest when his own dies or gets “misplaced,” because of course he’s one of those people who still memorizes numbers like the old schooler that he is. It’s easier to just pick up than ignore him and risk the man showing up at his doorstep with sad eyes and the impression Sam was “ignoring him.”
“Hello, this is Sam Wilson.”
The reply is not Bucky Barnes. “Hey sugar, I gotta couple ques’ions ‘bout the other night, you gotta minute?”
Sam blinks. That’s—hell, that’s some stranger with a drawl so thick it sounds like it’s been marinated in bourbon and barbecue. “Uh,” His mouth goes dry, words catching halfway up his throat. “I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are—”
“Aw, baby, don’t get al’ bashful now. I just wanna know if I left my sweater in yer room, can’ fin’ it here so I assume it’s still with you, can I stop by in a few?”
His brain skips a track. What the hell—?
Sam can feel heat creeping up his neck, a reflex, because the casualness of it, the intimate confidence, it’s like the man on the other end has a script that cuts right through his composure. And Sam Wilson does not fluster easy. Except apparently he does. “I think you got the wrong number, sir—”
“Now Sam,” and holy hell, this guy knows his name, what the fuck, “is you tryin’ say I gotta bad memory? Cause I sure as hell remember the way you—”
Sam disconnects so fast he nearly sprains his thumb.
The silence after rings louder than the call itself.
Later…
“I just got the weirdest call earlier.”
Bucky’s voice comes flat and curious. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Sam says. “This guy rings me up, thick southern accent, and starts talking about some night we supposedly shared, and I think it’s a wrong number except he mentions me by name. I hung up before he got real descriptive, but it sounded like he was about to—”
There’s a snort on the other end of the line.
“Is this funny to you, Buck?”
“Little bit,” is his response.
Sam huffs at amusement in his words. “I’m serious, Bucky. I don’t know this guy, I don’t know why he has my number, and now I’m just sitting here—thinking someone out there is fantasizing about me, and it’s not even real! It’s—ugh, it’s disturbing.”
“Mm. Sounds…complicated.”
“Complicated? Complicated doesn’t cover being hit on by some southern stranger calling you sugar. Complicated doesn’t cover—”
“Besides, I don’t think Walker likes you like that.”
Sam stops dead. “…what?”
“That was John,” Bucky continues, casual. “The team was bored.”
“Bored?” Sam throws his free hand up, pacing a circle around the room like he could stomp the absurdity out of the floor. “John Walker is prank-calling pretending we had some—” he sputters, brain unable to decide which word is safe to use, “—night together out of boredom?”
“In my defense,” says Bucky. “I didn’t know he was going to do that when I gave him your number.”
“I swear to—you gave him my number?”
“My bad,” Bucky says, not sounding particularly apologetic.
“Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable.”
Bucky’s laughter carries faintly as Sam hangs up.
Notes:
alt summary: in which sam gets a reminder that bucky is not, in fact, the Responsible AdultTM among the thunderbolts.
bucky is 100% a secret menace and an enabler of the team's shenanigans lol