Faith In A Friend

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the films Captain America: The First Avenger, Avengers Assembled, or Captain America: The Winter Soldier and I'm not making any money from this fic

Summary: SPOILERS FOR CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE WINTER SOLDIER. Steve manages to track Bucky down at the museum. No matter what he did, Bucky has always been his best friend

Warning(s): Spanking; spoilers for the above-mentioned films; some mentions of violence

Author's Note: I've seen this film twice over now and I have really enjoyed it both times. I've written quite a few stories with Thor and Loki in, but very little with Steve Rogers (Captain America). This idea won't leave me alone, so I'm writing it

Steve looked around the museum, making sure his cap was pulled firmly down over his head. He wasn't sure why he'd come back here - maybe it was just to remind himself of the past. There had been plenty of bad things in that time, but his friendship with Bucky hadn't been one of those.

Most of the people were looking at the displays only about Captain America. Steve wasn't that interested in reading about himself or looking at images of himself. But he wanted to remind himself of what he was fighting for when it came to his best friend.

And the only true record of Bucky was here in the museum.

Steve absently noticed someone else standing in front of the display. He glanced unconsciously towards the other person, catching a glimpse of a familiar face before the other man turned quickly away.

Although Bucky matched Steve well, due to whatever experiments had been done on him, Steve ignored the part of him that insisted he should be careful and reached out, grabbing Bucky's arm.

"Let me go!" Bucky hissed.

"Why are you here, Bucky?" Steve made sure to keep his voice low, not wanting to draw any attention to them.

"I'm not him."

It wasn't the vehement denial Steve had half-expected. And maybe Bucky was right; he wasn't the man Steve remembered. But then again, neither was Steve. And he'd never been forced to act against his nature.

Steve wasn't prepared to let his friend go. He wasn't going to give up on Bucky. "Where were you going to go?"

"Anywhere far enough away that no one else can control me."

"I won't try to control you."

"You want me to be what I was before. I can't do that. That part of me is dead." Bucky spoke harshly, but there was an almost desperate note to his voice.

"Come with me to my apartment," Steve suggested. "We can talk."

"I don't know if what they did to me will take hold again. It's not safe for you to be around me."

"You don't need to protect me anymore, Bucky." Steve still had hold of the other man's arm, but it was less about restraint now. "I know you tried to before, but I've grown up."

"Steve..." Bucky made eye contact with him, finally, and Steve could see just how tired... how lost... he looked. "You have no idea what I've done. If you knew even half of it, you would hand me over to be imprisoned. Or executed."

"It wasn't your fault."

"I killed people. Assassinated them. It wasn't war. I didn't have any control of myself, but that's an excuse. I should have been strong enough to resist them."

Steve started to walk out of the museum. Bucky could probably have broken his grip easily, but he merely walked alongside Steve, looking straight ahead rather than around at any of the people around him.

The trip to Steve's apartment had been made in silence. Steve was relieved they didn't run into any of his neighbours. He didn't feel like failing at small talk right now. Besides, he didn't know how many more of his neighbours had secret identities.

It was difficult to tell what Bucky was thinking. Steve didn't speak until after he'd headed inside and locked the door behind them. "I'm glad you're still alive."

"I don't think you really feel like that."

"Do you think I'm lying?"

"I think you don't understand what I've done."

"I understand you didn't have any control of yourself and that not many people could have survived what you went through at all."

"I don't even know what's left of me anymore. I tried to kill you..."

"You didn't. And I know you pulled me out of the water," Steve added. "You hesitated when I spoke to you."

"It was the only thing that could get through to me."

"You don't have to be what they made you, Bucky."

"I don't know how to be anything else. Not anymore."

Steve hesitated. He wasn't sure if what he had in mind was the right thing to do or not, but it was the only thing he could really think of that might do some good. Besides, they both came from the same time - and certain types of punishment were more common in the time they had come from.

Steve had been accused of being old-fashioned more than once.

Making his decision, Steve walked over to his couch and took a seat. "Come here," he directed, doing his best to sound firm.

Bucky stared at him. "You aren't serious."

"I was your commanding officer when we were on our missions together. That command was never revoked." Though Steve had never had cause to discipline his best friend, he knew there had been times Bucky had experienced military discipline.

As Bucky stared at him, Steve took advantage of it to study his friend's face. There were so many differences between his friend now and the memories of the past, but there was just as much that was still the same.

Steve knew there was still hope for his friend. He needed to convince Bucky of that fact. Feeling a rush of affection for his friend, he held a hand out, hoping to provide some encouragement.

It took a few minutes, but Bucky slowly walked over to Steve. As soon as he was close enough, Steve took hold of his wrist and gently tugged his friend across his lap.

Bucky didn't try to fight, but he shifted uncomfortably across Steve's lap. Steve looked down at his friend, dressed so differently now, and then lifted his hand, bringing it down in a sharp smack in the centre of Bucky's backside.

Apart from a slight jerk, Bucky didn't move or make any sound. Steve repeated the swat, but harder this time. A third one on top of the previous two pulled a sharp gasp from his friend. A further two had Bucky shifting slightly.

Steve repeated the pattern on the other side of Bucky's bottom and then continued, landing five hard swats in one place before moving to an unmarked spot. By the time he'd covered Bucky's entire backside and thighs in the stinging, burning swats, his palm was stinging a little and Bucky was shifting, groaning with each swat.

Deciding that this wasn't getting through to Bucky, Steve slipped his fingers into the waistband of his trousers and pulled them down, along with his underwear. Bucky's bottom and thighs were already flushed pink, but now that he could see what he was doing, Steve increased the force and speed behind the swats.

A second full circuit of swats had Bucky whimpering each time Steve's hand landed. Although he was fairly strong, Steve's palm was very quickly stinging and after another two circuits of swats, he paused to remove his belt.

Bucky must have heard the sound, but he just lay quietly over Steve's lap. Doubling over the belt in his hand, Steve brought it down hard at the crest of his friend's backside.

A soft cry escaped Bucky and Steve hesitated, glancing towards the door. He then leaned over to turn the stereo on.

Music filled the apartment. Bucky shifted slightly, but stayed quiet - until Steve brought the belt down a second and third time. He then gave a kind of strangled yelp, throwing his hand back.

Steve paused, shifting Bucky's hand out of the way and holding it against his back. When he brought the belt down again, he felt his friend shudder slightly. Another strike and he could hear Bucky begin to cry softly.

After a dozen strikes in total, Steve carefully put the belt to one side and began rubbing Bucky's back gently. He didn't speak, deciding to let Bucky collect himself in his own time.

It took a while, but Bucky finally pushed himself up. Adjusting his clothes, he sat next to Steve with a visible wince. "That hurt a lot more than I remembered."

"I'm sure you've been hurt worse."

"Not like this. Not... with someone who actually cared about me."

"Do you remember you told me I didn't have to take care of myself?"

Bucky nodded.

"It's as true for you now as it was for me then."

Bucky didn't say anything, but after a moment or two, he leaned slowly against Steve. "I don't know if I can ever be normal again, but if anyone can help me, I know you can." He spoke simply and trustingly.

Steve sighed and relaxed slowly. It would take a while, but he was sure it would eventually be possible for his friend to heal.

The End