No Season Is Eternal - morgana_moonlight (2024)

Chapter 1: I Get By

Chapter Text

Standing in his oversized, Stark designed walk-in closet, Bucky frowned at the meager contents in dismay; three long-sleeved black shirts, one white short-sleeved shirt for exercising, two pairs of skinny jeans (they’re fashionable, per Pepper), and one pair of ‘nice’ khaki pants that Steve insisted he needed (Stark had referred to them as ‘atrocities that should be burned immediately’ and Bucky somewhat agreed, though he kept the opinion to himself because he knew they were a staple in Steve’s wardrobe).

No possible combination of these clothes fit the vibe he was looking for this morning… comfort.

But Bucky Barnes was a problem solving type of guy and refused to accept this fate - didn’t he spend enough time in constant, mind-numbing discomfort during his reign as the Winter Soldier with Hydra? Should he allow himself to suffer needlessly now that he was ‘free’?

A montage of gruesome images flashed through his mind - strapped to a table, scalpels digging relentlessly into his skin. Strapped to a chair, electricity coursing through his brain. Being brutally hosed down with freezing cold water to rid his skin of dirt, grime, and a hodgepodge of bodily fluids, both his and those of the people he assassinated.

There was certainly no way in hell Hydra would have allowed him to dress comfortably during missions (even if they weren’t giant f*cking assholes) because, sadly, cozy clothes were generally not practical for stealth missions geared towards taking over the world (and yet, long hair that constantly flew into his face while trying to shoot wasn’t practical either, so f*ck those hypocritical douchebags, Hydra definitely could have outfitted him better).

It was all such a shame, really; maybe the world would be a better place if sweatpants and fluffy sweaters were accepted as professional murder attire.

Shuddering, he decided that his off-the-books-but-totally-legit therapist he refused to speak to had the right idea - he deserved nice things, and acquiring more sufficient clothing was a good first step to developing a better self care regimen, regardless of how he happened upon them (Bucky always found it amusing how the therapist still talked during every 'session' despite his steadfast silence, and Bucky had a nagging feeling the insanely stubborn woman must be in Steve’s family tree somehow… anyone else would have given up fifty meetings ago).

‘Adequate attire is optimal for mission success,’ a sullen voice in his head declared.

(Bucky’s head was a bit of a mess after the whole ‘being tortured and brainwashed for decades’ bit, but he was learning to manage his circ*mstances the best he could. He generally ignored comments from the remnants of the Winter Soldier that still existed in his mind on principle, whom he deemed simply as ‘Winter’ because that was a whole f*ckton nicer than ‘Soldier’ or ‘Asset’ or any other dehumanizing term used by Hydra. On rare occasions, Winter was actually helpful, and since they agreed on the same mission - protecting Steve Rogers - Bucky grudgingly accepted sharing his unbrainwashed mind with what remained of the world’s deadliest assassin… not that he really had a choice in the matter, but whatever.)

‘Steve has the best clothes!’ a second voice excitedly chimed in.

(Bucky tolerated past-Bucky’s comments in his thoughts a lot more than Winter’s; his contributions were generally useful or provided necessary insight when Bucky found himself in peculiar situations, like the time when Steve tried to tuck him into bed, but Bucky thought he was trying to restrain him from how snuggly the blonde pulled the blankets around him. But this ‘original’ part of himself could be overly sensitive and sentimental, and it sometimes made navigating the new circ*mstances he found himself in unnecessarily difficult, especially in his first weeks at the Avengers Tower.)

Past-Bucky, naturally, existed first, encompassing his life from birth until he fell off the train during the mission with the Howling Commandos. Winter came after that, thanks to Hydra’s ‘science’ but ended on the helicarrier when Steve’s unrelenting stubbornness knocked some of his programming loose. Current, present-day Bucky had full control over his own thoughts and actions, but the other two versions of himself whispered comments whenever they wanted to, sometimes pulling out memories they deemed important to share with him or offering unsolicited advice (or biting criticism, usually courtesy of Winter who always had something to say about the things happening in Bucky’s life).

Having lived two drastically different lives before he ended up on the banks of the Potomac river with a half-drowned Captain America in his clutches, it (mostly) made sense to Bucky that he shared his brain with the prior versions of himself. He knew his current situation wasn’t normal per se, but all-in-all, they weren’t really bad company, even Winter, whose relentless sass could actually be really f*cking hilarious when it wasn’t targeted at Bucky himself.

But Bucky hadn’t always handled the constant chatter well.

When his programming had begun cracking and breaking apart, the two warring voices in his head, combined with his own chaotic, jumbled thoughts, had been exceptionally difficult to deal with, and Bucky constantly suffered from painful headaches that had him wondering if his 'freedom' was worth it in the long run. Eventually, he realized that creating images to assign to the voices made them easier to understand and tolerate; past-Bucky was the clean-shaven, short haired, roguish, twenty-something year old best friend of Steve Rogers that he’d seen in the Smithsonian exhibit, complete with the blue peacoat, charming grin, and two regular flesh arms.

Winter, on the other hand, had the bulky Hydra-issued metal arm with the tacky giant red star on it, shoulder length hair, facial scruff, the combat outfit designed for efficiency only, and an overall general sullen grunge look about him, mostly due to the useless black eye paint he favored for reasons Bucky would never understand (but no mask or goggles, because all parts of himself agreed those were inefficient and unnecessary for day-to-day use).

Of course, because his life was a sh*t show, Bucky’s method of imagining his two former-selves while they talked in his head had unexpected consequences.

Two weeks after Wanda had destroyed his programming for good, he was finally allowed to move-in to Steve’s apartment in the Avengers Tower. During the first night, Bucky had woken disoriented from a nightmare in the center of his bed and turned to grab his tablet off his nightstand, only to find someone in the bed next to him - the Winter Soldier himself, clad in his usual combat gear with the creepy racoon eyes, staring impassively at him. Bucky had screamed so loudly, shocking even the emotionless assassin with how high his voice had gone, only to jump back and land next to a worried looking past-Bucky sitting cross-legged on his right.

By the time Steve had barreled into his room, shield in hand, Bucky had been sobbing uncontrollably in the corner of his bedroom, clutching at his head and convinced he’d truly gone mad. His crazed mutterings had been in Russian, thank god, so Steve had sat quietly with him (likely assuming his distraught reaction was from a traumatic nightmare), while unknowingly blocking Bucky’s view of his two former-selves with his bulky frame. Eventually, Bucky had fallen into a restless sleep, marginally calmed by the fact Steve couldn’t see anything amiss.

Bucky woke the next morning back in his bed and had tried to talk to his former-selves in his head without opening his eyes, but neither answered; he wasn’t surprised when he resignedly opened his eyes to see an aloof Winter sitting on the bed next to a beaming past-Bucky, his original self waving upon meeting his gaze. In the brightness of the morning, Bucky noticed their forms were somewhat faded, not quite solid but also not see-through. He carefully reached his metal hand out to touch past-Bucky’s leg and was somewhat mollified when his hand passed through him.

‘We are you, and you are us. We are one body, three functioning minds within one brain. We cannot hurt each other,’ Winter had tonelessly explained.

‘Our physical forms are technically figments of your imagination,’ past-Bucky had chirped upon seeing Bucky’s confusion.

Despite his original apprehension at his former-selves coming to life, so to speak, it had been unexpectedly easy to become accustomed to their presence; sometimes they were there, sometimes they weren’t, but they always showed up as a pair and would still interact with him in his thoughts if they weren’t ‘there’ physically.

When he was around other people, past-Bucky always stood just behind him on his right and Winter stood on his left; they shadowed him like bodyguards, each whispering comments into his ear when necessary (Bucky sometimes struggled to remember to answer them in his head, though, which had made for a few awkward moments but nothing too embarrassing yet).

For the most part, the duo seemed to show up when Bucky was around anyone who wasn’t Steve, Wanda, or Peter, and they were almost always guaranteed to be there when he was alone in the apartment. He spent many cozy afternoons engrossed in a novel with past-Bucky following along over his shoulder, Winter cat-napping on the floor near them; sometimes he watched Disney movies with past-Bucky cuddled into his side, Winter maintaining a constant stream of disparaging comments from his perch on the back of the couch above them (and Bucky had been baffled the first time it happened: how he could see past-Bucky leaning solidly against him; how his former-self didn’t go right through him like Bucky’s hand had gone through past-Bucky’s leg that first morning; how he couldn’t feel an additional weight on his side, yet he always sensed each of their presences when they were with him. Winter had snickered and vaguely answered, ‘ We are real to you but we are also in your head,” and well… that explained it, didn’t it? ).

The ironic part of it all had to be that as Bucky learned new things, had different experiences, interacted with others, and grew overall as a person, past-Bucky and Winter developed as well.

Winter, at first, had been a miserable son-of-a-bitch, always whispering paranoid comments in the back of Bucky’s mind, muttering about all the different ways he could eliminate an enemy (like the guy in the grocery store who gave him a funny look once, probably because Bucky was whispering in Russian to himself, bitching about the ridiculous cost of produce in America), and always complaining about one thing or another. But now? Well… he still had some of those same aspects, but he was a lot calmer and had developed more of a cheeky and somewhat narcissistic attitude (his comments during action or spy movies were absolutely scathing , and Bucky always had to keep himself from inappropriately cackling out loud if he wasn’t alone). Winter was still paranoid, but he was learning to trust others (like Steve, and even Wanda and Peter to an extent), and slowly accepting they could solve most of their problems without murdering everyone and their brother in the process.

Past-Bucky had been a lot quieter until Bucky ended up back in the Tower with Steve, and for a while, his most commonly uttered words were ‘back in my day’ which had driven Bucky up a f*cking wall, because he said it frequently and with the snootiest tone. (‘Back in my day, Steve used to always draw me, and he said I was his favorite model’ or ‘Back in my day, Steve would never have moved out of Brooklyn’ or ‘Back in my day, Steve and I hugged a lot more than you two do’). And Bucky refused to live in the past anymore; too much had changed in the world to try to keep things the way they had been seventy years ago, including Steve and himself. But now, past-Bucky loved the future, always encouraging Bucky to try strange foods, read new books, and watch a diverse range of movies. He thought the internet was the greatest thing in existence, always hovering behind Bucky and suggesting different things they should look up or pointing out games they could play. And yeah, he did sometimes relate things to his own experiences in the past, but it became a lot less annoying after he began adapting and embracing their current life in the modern world.

Despite his acceptance of his circ*mstances, Bucky wasn’t naïve or stupid enough to tell anyone about it, and he was grateful his former-selves generally stood behind him when he was around other people, because it made it easier to remember to not answer their comments aloud. Wanda likely knew about how them because she’d been in his head for a few weeks to eliminate his programming, but if she did, she never said anything; Bucky highly doubted she knew about their physical forms, though, because they hadn’t shown up until after she was done spending hours upon hours in his head.

Initially, he’d been concerned that Stark’s A.I. in the ceiling, Friday, would report back to Stark (or worse, Steve) that he regularly talked to himself while alone in the apartment, so he tried to answer the pair only in his head. But after he slipped up a few times during the first weeks and no Avenger suddenly barged into his room and carted him off for a psychological evaluation (again), he realized either she didn’t care enough to report him or she wasn’t spying on him (unlikely)... and to be honest, it was way too much work to filter himself when he was alone, so he stopped bothering.

But telling someone outright that he regularly interacted with two different apparitions of himself (especially one who was a notorious formerly brainwashed assassin) would assuredly get him a one-way ticket to a psychiatric ward, so he kept it completely to himself. He’d worked too f*cking hard to get where he was to give it all up for something irrelevant like that; all things considered, he was managing just fine, thank you very much.

Bucky nodded along in agreement with the others' comments regarding his plan to obtain more sufficient clothing, encouraged by their full on support. He quietly closed the door to the closet (which was bigger than his childhood bedroom, what the f*ck) and briskly strode across the room in nothing but his boxers, pausing at the threshold of his bedroom and the hallway.

Using his enhanced hearing (Hydra was good for something at least, the f*cking bastards), he confirmed that Steve was still occupied with his post-run shower in the hall bathroom, so now was the opportune time to execute his plan (Steve had insisted Bucky take the master bedroom when he moved in, which was nice since he had a bathroom attached directly to his room and didn’t have to worry as much about waking Steve when taking a bath in the middle of the night. But most importantly, the bathroom had a giant walk-in open shower, which Bucky was immensely grateful for since the standard showers with glass doors or curtains reminded him of cryo and made him feel claustrophobic).

Switching flawlessly to ‘‘ Winter-Soldier-Mode ’ (minus the murderous disposition, of course), he soundlessly slunk down the long hall towards his friend’s bedroom, evening out his breathing as he expanded his senses to make sure his path was clear. Steve wasn’t likely to hear him over the one-man chorus concert he was conducting within the confines of the bathroom, even with his enhanced hearing and the door cracked open. (“I leave it cracked so the steam doesn’t gather in the bathroom and turn this into some sort of f*cking sauna, Bucky, obviously… no, it’s not because I think you’re going to just disappear while I’m in the shower, and no, the fan doesn’t help, I’m telling you, it just gives me a headache, I’m sure that’s why Tony installed it.”)

Decades of stealth training was hard to forgo, and practice kept his skills sharp.

…he may have also liked being dramatic, sue him - civilian life was inexplicably boring .

Bucky sauntered into the bedroom, easily slipping in because Steve didn’t believe in closed bedroom doors either, at least when it was just the two of them living in the apartment (“I’ve got nothing to hide, Buck, and you’re always welcome to come in here,” Steve has said at least twice, always with an open and guileless expression that Bucky wasn’t sure how he felt about).

His friend’s room appeared almost identical to his, with the main focal point being a queen sized bed with dark navy silk sheets and an intricately carved wooden headboard (“It’s mahogany , Bucky, it’s fancy stuff we wouldn’t have ever dreamed of having growing up” … “It’s wood, from a tree, Steve”), and matching tall dresser that he is almost certain Pepper picked out. While Steve’s room had very few personal touches (“It just seemed pointless to decorate, ya know?”.. Bucky didn’t know but had nodded along anyways), his wardrobe was something Steve clearly took seriously.

Coming to stand at the entryway of the walk-in closet, Bucky took a deep breath, forcing himself to tamper down his excitement and maintain focus - he was on a time limit and needed to work efficiently. Stepping in, he couldn’t help but snort at how different Steve’s closet was from his own. While Bucky had maybe ten pieces of clothing in total, the other man’s wardrobe took up half of the allotted space, which was saying something since Stark’s idea of a walk-in closet was similar to “normal” people’s bedrooms (at least according to Wilson, and although Bucky wasn’t his biggest fan, his instincts told him he could be trusted on this).

When Bucky was finally deemed ‘safe’ enough to stay with Captain America, Steve had gently guided him into the closet to pick out something 'new' since Bucky had been rotating between the same four or five outfits for the last month. He laughed lightly at Bucky’s low whistle and wide-eyed surprise upon witnessing the neat, yet plentiful rows of clothing, so extensively different from the rest of the bare minimum apartment he’d seen so far.

Steve explained that the other Avengers never knew what to gift the “legendary first superhero” Captain America, so after realizing he was amused by the novelty clothes of the 21st century, they challenged each other to gift him the best of the best. And superheroes were apparently competitive as f*ck, so adding in the clothes Steve bought for himself after waking up from the ice (a few different types of shirts one or two sizes too small in every color available and a variety of work-out pants, athletic shorts, jeans, and of course, khakis), his wardrobe amounted to, in Bucky’s eyes at least, a small department store.

Bucky decided to forgo a shirt and instead grabbed his favorite item - an oversized (on him at least… he was skeptical that Steve’s broad shoulders could fit comfortably into it) galactic hoodie, adorned with a ginger kitten on the front in an astronaut helmet. It was a gift from Bruce, who in Bucky’s expert opinion despite never meeting the man, had superior taste since this sweatshirt was lined with the softest material known to mankind, and had pockets . And if it also smelled like Steve’s ‘forest fresh’ body wash, then well, that was just an added bonus, wasn’t it?

‘Wait, f*ck, is that creepy? No, no, it’s fine, you’ve been friends forever, people know these things about each other… right? But, wait, does Steve find comfort in your scent or are you the only one who feels peaceful getting a whiff of the other? How do you even ask that? Can we just blame our f*cked up brain on this and call it a day?’

Past-Bucky readily supplied a few snippets of memories that soothed his panicked thoughts, bless him.

“You smell good, Buck, is that the new cologne your folks got ya for Christmas?”

“Stevie, how do you always smell like the woods when you ain’t ever left the city in your life?” … “I don’t know, Bucky, I guess I’m just magical like that.”

An image of the two of them as kids, cuddled up chest-to-chest on the couch cushions they had placed on the floor in the Barnes’s family living room, noses pressed into the other’s neck and their arms wrapped snugly around each other as they slept peacefully, the window showing a storm raging brutally outside.

Bucky was jerked out of his thoughts by the low groan of the water shutting off and the subsequent end of Steve’s shower singing, He seized his favorite pair of black joggers off the hanger (which were a bit snug since Bucky’s lower half was somehow bigger than Steve’s, but they made his butt look nice according to Wanda, which was a good thing according to Peter, and they were soft, hence, favorite), quickly dressed himself, and proceeded to flee the scene of the crime like he was some sort of well… criminal.

Vaulting over the back of the couch, Bucky switched on the television and swiftly arranged his body into the perfect look of nonchalance - fingers interlocked behind his head and feet propped on the coffee table which he then crossed delicately at the ankles.

Bucky heard the bathroom door open fully, followed by Steve’s heavy footsteps heading down the hall.

‘Don’t take a deep breath, don’t take a deep breath, that’s f*cking weird Barnes, don’t do it.’

‘You’re creepy future-self,’ past-Bucky giggled in the back of his head.

“Learn anything new this morning?” Steve hollered over his shoulder as he strode into his bedroom.

To Steve’s great amusem*nt, Bucky had developed an obsession with watching any and all shows geared towards animals, nature, or people in nature, regardless if they were purely educational or those situated in ‘reality.’

He absolutely loved the intense shows like Deadliest Catch, River Monsters, and Coast Guard Alaska, but he learned the hard way that certain things were not meant to be watched alone (and sadly, in this instance, his former-selves didn't count as real company). Despite being a hardened soldier and a formidable ex-assassin who survived decades of brainwashing and torture, the intense, anxiety-inducing situations depicted on the shows would cause him to bite his nails until they bled and haunt him with bizarre nightmares where he was forced into similar situations.

After waking up screaming for the third night in a row, Bucky had finally caved and told a distressed Steve who’d rushed into his room the real reason for the sudden return of his constant nightmares. (“Buck, why would you watch something that stresses you out so much?” … “I don’t know, I just like it. It’s intense but not because of fights and war, ya know? And stupid TV shows shouldn’t bother me this much, and I f*cking hate that they do, so I will keep watching them until they don’t.”)

Fortunately, in a bid to understand Bucky’s obsession, they found that Steve’s steady, unwavering presence and witty remarks while they watched together alleviated a lot of Bucky’s anxiety. They developed a routine of watching a few episodes each night after dinner, pressed shoulder to shoulder on the couch, Steve’s heavy arm securely wrapped around Bucky like his very own weighted blanket. It made Bucky feel better knowing Steve also found those shows intriguing yet addictively agonizing, and watching them together became their thing that the other Avengers weren’t invited to attend.

Taking a deep breath (‘f*ck, why is that forest fresh scent so invigorating? Can’t even be mad since it smells so good’), “Male penguins give female penguins rocks to woo them,” Bucky answered loudly, mentally patting himself on the back for being able to recall, under extreme duress, some obscure fact he learned from the documentary he watched yesterday.

“That sounds familiar,” Steve laughed, his voice muffled as he pulled a shirt over his head, probably struggling because it was too small to fit over his broad form.

Bucky weakly rubbed his eyes with his flesh hand, trying to physically erase the images his brain was supplying of a half naked Steve Rogers pulling a shirt over his scientifically perfect six-pack abs, water droplets cascading -

Nope, nope, NOPE, that is definitely crossing a line Steve would not be cool with him crossing.

It pained him knowing he couldn’t blame past-Bucky or Winter for this one; this brand new mental sh*t storm of lusting over a buff Steve was all current-day Bucky Barnes, made more difficult by their constant contact with one another and Steve’s poorly fitting wardrobe.

Internally lusting over buff Steve may be a new struggle for him, but having less-than-platonic feelings for the blonde was absolutely not a new occurrence. He’d fallen for Steve immediately when they first met as children, but it took him until he was around seventeen to realize his love for the blonde was both platonic and romantic. (Hell, even the Winter Soldier had been extraordinarily impressed by both Steve’s fighting skills and ferocious determination to complete his mission, and he looked down on everyone.)

“Hey, Bucky?”

‘f*ck, he knows, he knows!’ he whined to his former-selves. ‘Should I just own up to it now? I’m sure he’s used to other people mentally ogling his very aesthetically pleasing body.’

‘I don’t think he’s used to that,’ past-Bucky unhelpfully supplied.

‘You are a seasoned spy, you can hold out under pressure,’ Winter scoffed.

‘Yes, thank you Winter. Calm, cool, and collected, just another day of bullsh*tting your way through life, let’s get it.’

“Y-yeah?” he answered Steve.

Past-Bucky sighed in the back of his mind while Winter remained quiet, thank f*ck, but the deafening silence still sounded judgmental.

‘sh*t. In our defense, we are out of practice,’ he internally shrugged.

Bucky coughed to cover his stutter, closing his eyes and unintentionally focusing on his internal squabbling match, a habit he really needed to work on breaking before someone noticed how often he zoned out.

‘Speak for yourself,’ Winter hissed.

‘We are all the same person!’ Bucky petulantly shouted back. ‘So I am speaking for myself even when I’m speaking for all of us, take that, ya jerk.’

‘I loathe you,’ Winter huffed irritably.

‘Be nice,’ past-Bucky scolded. ‘Both of you. And focus on Steve, he’s more important right now.’

“You know you don’t have to wear my clothes all the time, right, pal?” Steve suggested, his tone light with amusem*nt over Bucky’s antics. “We can get you some more if you want, maybe try some new styles they have now?”

Bucky opened one eye, relief palpable as his tense shoulders loosened.

‘He can’t read minds, Barnes, you idiot. He’s not Wanda,’ Winter snootily reminded him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Rogers.”

Okay, seriously, Steve was still in his room and couldn’t have seen him on the couch as he left the bathroom and walked down the hall to his own room - how the f*ck did he know what Bucky was wearing?

‘It’s not like you don’t steal his clothes every day or anything.’

“Shut up, inner voice,” he growled to himself; it was bad enough to have Winter and past-Bucky sassing him, but why did he have to sass himself?

f*ck, he was such a mess.

Dragging himself from the comfort of the plush couch, he migrated to the kitchen, hopping up to sit on the granite counter opposite the stove. Placing his hands in the fleece-lined pockets of his sweatshirt, Bucky jutted his bottom lip out, hair falling around his face in natural waves, and idly swung his feet back and forth. He hoped he looked pathetic enough for Steve to feel bad and leave him alone with the whole clothes stealing thing… and to also make him a home cooked breakfast because stealth missions were hard work, and he was hungry.

“You always leave the light in my closet on,” Steve chuckled, playfully bumping Bucky’s shoulder as he walked by him and into the kitchen, dressed in his go-to casual outfit of a tight compression shirt and athletic shorts that left little to the imagination.

Well, f*ck.

This time, it was Winter who sighed loudly. ‘This is why they don’t let us go on missions. You are pathetic.’

‘Shut up, Winter, we are not talking about that right now. And for the record, you never once mentioned the light,’ he snapped back, feeling petty.

‘I did! And you ignored me, so I stopped bothering.’

‘It’s true,’ past-Bucky whispered apologetically, showing Bucky a few memory snippets proving Winter’s claim true.

“Ahh. I did that on purpose to test your perception skills,” he bullsh*tted to Steve, deciding to ignore his former-selves for now.

Steve grinned fondly, accepting his lie because he was a good friend like that. “Guess I passed, then, huh?”

“Yes, yes, very well done, Rogers, do you want a cookie?” Bucky grumbled, not really annoyed, but unsure just how much of the truth he should admit to. “There’s no way you can wear all that stuff, and if I didn’t wear it, then it’d just sit there in your fancy closet and collect dust, and that’s wasteful and not environmentally friendly, and Captain America shouldn’t advocate bad qualities like that. So, really, I’m doin’ ya a favor here and saving your reputation, you’re welcome, I’ll take my breakfast now, please.”

He batted his eyelashes before giving Steve a saucy wink.

Bucky knew he could get his own clothes by putting in just a little bit of effort… mostly tracking Wanda down and having her show him how the whole ‘online shopping’ concept worked. Or he could trust Steve to go out and get him some things (since Bucky wasn’t one for going outside lately, like, at all), but why bother? Plain and simple, he liked wearing Steve’s clothes, because they were Steve’s.

‘Woo, congrats, you’ve definitely crossed the line into creepy territory, Barnes,’ he mentally berated himself.

Past-Bucky, because he was a pal, supplied a few images of Steve wearing Bucky’s clothes over the years as they grew up… Bucky hadn’t fit into Steve’s clothes back then because Steve had been tiny and frail, but he could clearly see how much it pleased past-Bucky to witness the smaller boy walking around in his clothing.

Huh. Interesting.

“If it bothers you, I’ll stop, I promise,” he acquiesced after Steve only snorted in response to his previous comment, mentally crossing his fingers, ‘ please say no, please say no’ .

“It’s fine, Buck, you know I don’t mind sharing. I’m just teasing ya,” Steve answered earnestly, clearly afraid to offend the brunette.

Bucky exhaled quietly in relief.

“Besides, they look better on you anyways.”

Bucky's heart stuttered at the compliment, and past-Bucky, who lived on compliments and attention from Steve, was obnoxiously squealing in the background. He smiled shyly at the blonde while keeping his mouth firmly shut, lest he say something embarrassingly untrue like, “And I look even better without them.”

That was not a good direction to go, something both him and past-Bucky fully agreed on.

Forcing his eyes away from burning holes into Steve’s muscular back (how were his shoulders that broad, good lord, that shirt was suffering), he was relieved to see his friend had grabbed two frying pans and enough eggs and bacon to feed a six-member family of regular people. The brunette spent most of his early years looking after Steve, which he loved doing, but It made Bucky feel… he couldn’t find the correct word for it… safe?...valued??...loved???... to have Steve here and taking care of him in the same ways that past-Bucky had cared for the smaller, sickly Steve.

While their friendship pre-Hydra had been as easy as breathing, built upon years of familiarity, shared experiences, and not knowing a life without the other by their side, they were finding some parts of their current situation difficult to navigate. They rarely needed words to convey their thoughts and feelings in the past, but lately, Bucky found himself uncertain and insecure of what to say when it came to the ‘big’ things - should I say that? Does he understand what exactly I’m trying to say? Should I bring that memory up? Does he even want me around anymore? Does he know how much I need him? Should I tell him the idea of living in a world without him makes me not want to live in that world at all?

‘This might be why your therapist says you should focus on being your own person and not revolving your life around Steve…you should probably start listening to her, because Winter’s right, you’re f*cking pathetic.’

Bucky wasn’t even offended when Winter and past-Bucky told him to shut up, because seriously , his inner voice was annoyingly self-critical today (Winter added that he was the only one allowed to be mean to Bucky, and his inner voice better learn his place quickly or else Winter would gladly show him where he stood).

“You know what’s one of the hardest parts to accept about this future?... the fact that we’re rich now, can you believe it?” Steve laughed dazedly over the glorious crackling sound of fresh bacon frying.

Bucky’s stomach growled in response to the smells wafting over to him (because of the bacon only, he swears), and Steve wordlessly tossed a few more pieces into the overflowing pan.

“You’re rich now. I’m just a leech mooching off you.” The brunette tucked his legs under him, readjusting to a more comfortable position on the counter in an attempt to make the guilty feeling in his stomach go away. He hated lying to Steve, but there were some things his friend didn’t need to know, because then he’d have questions that Bucky didn’t really want to answer.

“Didn’t think I could ever get poorer than I was during the 30’s, but here I am.”

Bucky wiggled his hands as if to say “ta-da!”

Steve frowned, casting the brunette a dismayed look. “You know what’s mine is yours, right? I got too much money to know what to do with, and you should have the same if the government could -”

“Could give me decades worth of backpay, too?” Bucky interrupted, knowing already how adamant Steve was about wanting Bucky to come back from the dead in the eyes of the law and be paid the money he is ‘owed for being a hero.’

“But they can’t give me all that money because I’m legally dead, Steve, it is what it is.”

‘You don’t deserve it anyways, Barnes, how many innocent people did you murder as the Winter Soldier?’

He remembered everyone he killed with Hydra, but he’s not brave enough to tally it up, and Winter was blessedly mum on the topic, only saying, ‘We received our orders and completed missions as they trained us to do.’

Some things were better left as mysteries.

Bucky watched Steve fretfully fiddle with the loaf of bread he pulled from the pantry, clearly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was going (Steve hated how blasé Bucky was over the whole thing, but he also didn’t want to upset his friend by pushing the subject, a fact Bucky took full advantage of anytime the topic came up).

“We’ll get it worked out, Buck, I promise.” And Bucky believed he would, too, because Steve was beyond stubborn and wouldn’t stop until he won whatever battle he partook in, and Bucky wished he had the courage to tell him not to waste his time. He didn’t need to be legally alive to fight alongside the other Super Soldier in his vigilante superhero group, and he certainly didn’t deserve any money for his ‘service.’

‘Service? Service?! What a f*cking joke. The world would have been better off if you truly died falling off that train. Then, maybe you would deserve to be called a hero.’

Bucky brought his knees up, wrapping his arms around them and tucking his head down. He hated how f*cking disgusting he felt, f*ck; he didn’t deserve nice things, he deserved to be executed in the street for the atrocities he committed.

Sensing his friend’s sudden distress (though likely not guessing the correct reason for it), Steve lightly poked his leg until the brunette finally looked up, Bucky’s breath hitching in his throat when Steve reached out to gently cup his cheeks, blue eyes shining with compassion.

“I know things are hard right now, but I promise they’ll get better, Buck. And we’ll face them together, side by side, like how we were always meant to be.”

‘Steve still wants us around,’ past-Bucky whispered, his tone soft and comforting. ‘We can still make up for our past if we keep him safe.’

‘Who would protect Steve if we did not exist? We are the best suited to do so, and you know this,’ Winter firmly added.

Large thumbs delicately wiped the slowly falling tears off his cheeks, and oh, when had that happened?

“Because I’m with you -”

“Til the end of the line?” Bucky sniffed, feeling so worn out and tired all of a sudden. He hated how his thoughts were always whispering toxic comments when he least expected it, and while he appreciated the support from Winter and past-Bucky, how f*cked up was he that he needed to be regularly cheered up by the other voices in his head?

“Til the end of the line, pal,” Steve confirmed with a nod. He leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss to the top of Bucky’s hair.

For the first time since his programming broke, his head was radio silent.

Steve offered him a small, loving smile, before stepping back and returning to his cooking. Bucky saw the red flush creeping up his friend’s neck and was sure the blonde’s cheeks matched.

“You know Pepper is a magician with things like that,” Steve added with a wave of his spatula. “it’s actually kind of crazy.”

Bucky snorted, gratefully accepting the peace offering. He subtly wiped his face on his sleeves, appreciating how soft and gentle the material was on his skin. “sh*t, the way the future has been shaping up, she might just actually be a witch.”

Steve tossed his head back, laughing loudly, and it filled Bucky with a fierce sort of pride to know he caused that reaction. “Hell, wouldn’t that be something? Would explain how she puts up with Tony.”

Steve turned both burners off and grabbed two plates and a pair of mugs from the cabinet above their state of the art coffee maker (which had more buttons and levers than Bucky could even begin to determine the purpose of). Without needing directions, he built Bucky’s preferred morning breakfast sandwich with his exact desired ratio of egg to bacon, complete with a slice of tomato in the middle; he then did it again three more times until Bucky had four perfectly crafted sandwiches piled elegantly on his plate.

Bucky almost shed a few more tears when the scent of his favorite expensive vanilla and cinnamon coffee wafted through the kitchen, especially upon seeing it brewed into his sparkly ‘Not Today Satan’ mug (with ‘Hydra’ in parentheses under the word ‘Satan’ because Wanda’s dark sense of humor was similar to his), two things he only brought out when he was having one of those days…

f*ck, he was being spoiled today.

‘You don’t deserve to be spoiled by anyone, let alone someone as good as Steve Rogers.’

‘No, shut up asshole inner voice, we deserve nice things, our therapist and both past me’s said so, and Steve agrees, so stick a f*cking knife in it. ’

‘I don’t think that’s how it goes…’

‘f*cking die, that’s how it goes, douchebag.’

‘Yes! You tell him...you?’ past-Bucky cheered, somewhat confused on the technicalities of bickering with one’s own inner voice, but still supportive. ‘You go future-self.’

‘Assassinate all the bad thoughts,’ Winter approved, supportive in his own murdery way.

Was it normal to have mental arguments with oneself? Or, f*ck, was there a fourth voice in his head? Was that his conscience? Why was his conscience a dick?

Will he always be such a giant f*cking sh*t show?

“True.” sh*t, he waited too long to respond and now it’s weird.

‘Steve’s always known we’re a bit of a mess, it’s okay! He’s used to it, we’re fine.’ (Past-Bucky was such a good dude; having him in his head was like a firsthand look at understanding why Steve tolerated his chaotic eccentricities.)

“Wanda will always be my favorite witch,” he added quickly, hoping to cover his social blunder of awkwardly not responding to Steve’s comment for several minutes. “So hopefully Pepper is like a space witch or some sh*t so we can differentiate the two.”

Steve handed Bucky their plates, artfully organized so the heaping amounts of food fit perfectly in the available space. “Wanda is our favorite Earth witch, and Pepper would be our favorite alien witch?”

“Exactly!”

Bucky slipped off the counter and moved back into the living room, one plate in his flesh hand and the other balanced on the same arm, the heat prevented from seeping into his skin by the sweatshirt. Comfort and protection from external heat, what more could you ask for in life?

‘Bullet-proof, fire resistant, Kevlar, color changing.’ (Winter wasn’t very good at rhetorical questions, the poor schmuck.)

“But you know... if you truly believe in the ‘what’s mine is yours’ concept, then I have a claim to these clothes, too,’ he smirked, randomly changing the topic as the thought suddenly occurred to him.

‘Excellent logic, future-self,’ past-Bucky genuinely praised.

“You’re a menace, Buck,” Steve laughed fondly, two mugs delicately held in his large hands.

Steve followed Bucky into the living room to eat their meal at the coffee table, mentally running through a list of movies that Clint had given him that were ‘family friendly without any dying animals.’

After accidentally traumatizing Bucky with Marley and Me in the early days when the ex-assassin had just been cleared to stay with Steve ( “It’s about a family and their dog, Bucky, I’m sure it will be cute and sweet! And it’s rated PG, so it’s kid friendly” ), Steve always vetted the movies he put on. f*ck, he would never forget look the of utter betrayal and devastation Bucky gave him before silently bawling into Steve’s shoulder to avoid seeing the family on the screen burying their dog.

“Took you this long to realize that, Rogers?”

“Nah, I’ve known since the very first day we met, bud.”

Bucky seemed oddly pleased with that.

The two devoured their breakfast (Steve’s second) in record time, and Bucky swiftly deposited their empty plates into the sink.

“Anything in particular you want to watch this morning? Maybe, if there’s not, we can watch Tangled?” Bucky asked sheepishly when he returned, his gray eyes trained on the ground.

They both knew ‘Tangled’ was his go-to comfort movie.

His friend grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and bundled himself cozily into it, only a small part of his head peeking out ( “It’s called a Snuggie, Steve, and it has a hood! The future is awesome”). Steve wasn’t even surprised when Bucky’s legs ended up in his lap, and it made him deliriously happy that his friend was starting to initiate and accept physical contact again. He’d been so skittish at first, and it physically pained Steve every time his friend flinched or uneasily tolerated being touched, though he understood the reasoning behind it.

It made his blood boil thinking about the things his Bucky endured for 70 years.

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but a jarring sound reverberated through the living room and the accompanying flashing purple lights forced Bucky to shove his face into the armrest of the couch before they could give him a headache.

Bucky questioned once, after the third time the alarm went off since he’d been staying at the Tower, why the ridiculous light display was needed when the Avengers Assemble alarm could wake the goddamn dead. Steve explained that it prevented Clint from using the ‘oh sorry, I didn’t have my hearing aids in’ excuse again. Purple, they agreed, was a good, neutral color, since red was just ‘tacky’ and blue made everyone feel like they were seconds away from being arrested...again. Bucky personally thought the whole thing was a bit obnoxious and could be remedied in ways that wouldn’t cause him early heart failure with the harsh sound or blinded by the bright lights, but the current system was effective so that had to count for something.

“Friday, confirmed.”

“Thank you, Captain Rogers, I have alerted the boss you will be on your way, shortly. The others are gathering in the main common room upstairs.”

Bucky glanced up morosely from his safe haven now that the Purple Lights of Doom were finally gone, only to plant his face right back into the soft cushions Steve vacated when he rushed into his bedroom to change his outfit. He let out a frustrated scream - f*cking Avenger missions he couldn’t go on, taking his Steve away, and ruining their day together. He begrudgingly removed himself from the safety of his Snuggie and pulled himself up to sit properly, flesh arm and metal arm crossed over his chest in what he hoped accurately displayed how utterly unfair he believed this whole thing to be.

He was, without a doubt, the best suited to watch Steve’s back, and it was such bullsh*t that the team/his therapist wouldn’t clear him yet for missions. They always gave him a variety of vague answers about lack of trust, could he protect others that aren’t Steve, ehh, they didn’t think so, would he be able to work with a team and follow orders, ehh, they didn’t believe he could. There were so many examples he could give to refute these statements, and at the very bare minimum, the Winter Soldier was renowned for being the best assassin in Earth’s history… wouldn’t you want someone with that level of skill on your Superhero Team out fighting bad guys and protecting your Team’s leader instead of keeping them holed up in your opulent Hero Tower alternating between watching Disney movies and Animal Planet while eating their weight in organic cheetos from the health food store down the street?

It drove Bucky insane (or, more insane than he was normally) trying to work out the real reason he was stuck in this god forsaken tower with the children (Peter wasn’t always here, and he loved Wanda, but he would ditch her in a heartbeat if it meant he could go on missions with Steve, a fact he felt somewhat guilty about because Wanda was an angel).

He had an ever-growing suspicion that Steve himself was the reason he was forced to stay behind, where he was ‘safe’ from harm (physically, yes he was safest staying in the Tower, but emotionally? Being left behind and unable to help was akin to dipping his flesh hand in corrosive acid and being forced to stand there and watch it eat away the skin and bone; it absolutely wrecked Winter, past-Bucky, and himself not knowing what was happening to Steve while he was out on missions, and they were stuck in the Tower).

Because, what people consistently failed to realize, including Steve himself, is that the dumbest, most dangerous sh*t Captain America has ever done occurred when Bucky wasn’t there to protect him.

Examples include -

Volunteering for a mostly untested Super Soldier science experiment that could have just as easily killed or deformed him in some hideously, grotesque way? Bucky was off overseas fighting a war for his country (and all the while naively dreaming of the day he could return home and be reunited with Steve again).

Dropping a plane filled with bombs into the icy Arctic instead of finding a safer but still viable solution? Bucky was ‘dead’ after falling off a train a whole f*cking week earlier.

Past-Bucky had a LOT to say on the subject of the reckless endeavors Steve partook in when Bucky wasn’t around and how drastically different things were when Bucky was present to curb some of Steve’s more impulsive tendencies. Like, seriously, he could write a novel on it, complete with complicated diagrams and crisp photo evidence.

‘Maybe we should make a PowerPoint like Peter uses for his classes?’ he suggested to his former-selves. ‘We could detail why exactly we should be allowed to go on missions, and Steve wouldn’t be able to ignore it because we put effort into creating it, and he’d feel bad not paying attention.’

‘We don’t know how to make a PowerPoint,’ past-Bucky wisely pointed out.

‘What the f*ck is a PowerPoint?’ Winter asked irritably.

Past-Bucky started to explain, but Winter cut him off. ‘Never mind, that sounds stupid and inefficient. Better idea - we should just drop a few dead Hydra agents on Steve’s bed while he’s away. Then, he’ll clearly see we are the superior choice to protect him, and we can even add a bow!’ Winter exclaimed hopefully. ‘You said bows are for gifts, and dead Hydra agents are gifts. This is an excellent idea, we must do it.’

Bucky shot that one down quickly, with past-Bucky backing him up… somehow, he didn’t think Steve would appreciate dead people on his bed, even if they were bad guys.

Several minutes later, Steve exited his bedroom, fully suited up in his barely-adequate uniform’, with the shield strapped securely to his back. (Winter thought the uniform was suboptimal in regards to protecting vital body parts, but fully approved of the vibranium shield and regularly bitched that they should get one, too.)

He came to stand in front of a still pouting Bucky, the brunette growing increasingly more agitated the longer he thought about this injustice he regularly faced.

“Come on Buck, I don’t want to have this argument again.”

Was he seriously breaking out the ‘Captain America Has Important Things to Say and You Will Listen and Follow Instructions...or Else’ voice?

Oof, two can play that game.

“Awesome, me neither,” he agreed, gracefully jumping to his feet to stand in front of the broader Super Soldier. He wasn’t sure if he would ever get used to being able to look Steve directly in the eye without one of them having to tilt their head, but sometimes it had its advantages (like now, when he was trying to make a point).

Steve blinked in confusion at the easy acquiesce, and the former-assassin smirked wickedly in response.

“You should tell the team that I’m coming, too, and they have to accept it because you’re the leader.”

Bucky used his flesh hand to flirtatiously tuck a lock of hair behind his ear, and he flashed Steve the charming, roguish grin he’d seen himself use on countless others in fragments of memories from past-Bucky. He called this particular look - ‘Bucky Barnes Has Important Things to Say and You Will Listen and Follow Instructions...or Else.’

‘You’ve learned well, my future-self. I could legitimately shed a tear,” past-Bucky praised dramatically (as every part of Bucky would forever be).

Steve rolled his eyes, unaffected, slinging his arm over Bucky’s shoulder and steered him to the elevator.

“You know I’m not that kind of leader, Bucky.”

‘You did well! But uh… yeah, that look never really got us anywhere with Steve,’ past-Bucky admitted. ‘Works well with others, but Steve? Not so much.’

‘Maybe we should use the - The Winter Soldier Has Important Things to Say and You Will Listen and Follow Instructions...or Else - voice.’

‘That’s not a thing, Winter!’ past-Bucky grumbled.

‘It could be if it allowed us to complete the mission,’ Winter sniped back.

‘No, shut up, you’re dumb and never contribute anything useful. It’s annoying,’ past-Bucky griped, and Bucky pictured him stamping his foot in irritation.

Bucky internally rolled his eyes, both at his bickering past selves and at Steve. Sure, he knew Steve wasn’t the dictator-leader type, and usually Bucky appreciated that in his friend, but in this instance? Not so much.

Especially if he was being a lying son of a bitch right now and was the one hinting to the team and his therapist that he should stay behind? Yeah, not gonna fly, buddy.

He knew he wouldn’t win this argument at the moment, not with Steve already dressed and ready to head out. A very tiny part of him would even admit he is okay with letting it go this time, mostly because he’s just feeling soft and un-murdery this morning (for now at least, but the day was still young).

A different part of him, however, the part that was dominated by past-Bucky’s thoughts and desires, wanted to be selfish and childish and block the blonde from pushing the up button for the elevator - because Steve couldn’t leave him behind if he couldn't get to the mission in the first place.

‘Your genius is astounding,” Winter sarcastically remarked.

(Sometimes, Bucky misses the days when Winter would only make paranoid comments but would otherwise stay silent for days on end…)

But even when his memories were a jumbled, chaotic mess after beginning to break free from his programing at the end of the fight on the helicarrier, he knew that Steve was stubborn and petty as f*ck; he also didn’t want Steve to be angry at him and end up distracted during a dangerous mission, especially since Bucky wouldn’t be there to watch his six. And regardless, if Bucky was the Prince of Pettiness, then Steve was the King, and likely would just jab one of his pointy elbows into Bucky’s sternum and leave him there gasping for breath while joining the others by way of the staircase.

Bucky was intelligent enough to not test his theory but a phantom pain in his chest had him using his flesh hand to tenderly rub the area anyways.

Lost in thought, Bucky was startled out of his internal musings when the elevator dinged, and the doors soundlessly glided open in front of him; he wasn’t sure if Steve pushed the button while he was distracted, or if Friday sent it recognizing he was avoiding pushing it.

His question was answered when they stepped in, however, Steve’s arm slipping off his shoulders as they moved to arrange themselves around the other, much younger occupant.

“Hey, Mr. Captain Steve America Rogers and Bucky! ( “It’s just, Steve, kid, please, it’s been months”). Oh, wow, Bucky, I love your sweatshirt! It looks so soft, and that cat is super cute. Are you leaving for a mission right now? Ugh, just kidding, don’t answer that, of course you are. Unless you just wear your suit around the Tower? Because like, mine is pretty comfortable so I get that but - “

Bucky stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the rambling teen, successfully cutting the boy off, and gently smushed the side of Peter’s face into his chest with his metal hand.

“Missed you, kid,” he sincerely said, ignoring Steve’s astounded expression; Bucky and Peter spent a lot of time together lately (often with Wanda, too) while Steve was off being Captain America, either on missions, training, or never-ending meetings, so the other Super Soldier likely didn’t realize how close the two truly were.

“Oh. This is nice, I missed you, too, man, you smell really good, not to be weird or anything,” Peter retorted, hugging Bucky firmly back. “I’m sorry I don’t have any new books for you today, but while you’re in my backpack, I did grab some fresh plums for you on the way here if you want those.”

“Bucky!” Steve sputtered, gaping at the brunette man and holding a hand to his chest in shock.

Bucky lowered his arms back to his side, including his flesh hand which had been soundlessly rifling through Peter’s backpack, but not before ruffling the teen’s hair and grinning proudly. “Very good, kid! I’ll save the plums for later, but you’re getting good at using your senses… unlike some people.”

Bucky cast Steve a judgmental glance; he reached into his own pocket, pulled out the blonde’s phone he pilfered when they entered the elevator, and held it out to the offended man.

‘Another reason we are needed on missions; the lack of situational awareness is alarming,’ Winter groaned in dismay. ‘I am; concerned.’

“Bucky, you can’t just -”

“Relax, pal, it’s just a training game we play, which you failed horrifically, but Peter passed with flying colors,” Bucky cut Steve off with a laugh before he could get into full lecture mode. “Shouldn’t you be in school considering it’s a Tuesday morning, Peter?”

“Oh! Yeah, about that…” Peter laughed nervously, running a hand through his dark hair. He glanced behind him to peek timidly at Steve, the blonde raising an eyebrow in response, his expression shifting to his token ‘Captain America is Disappointed in You’ look, despite not knowing the situation. (Bucky found it odd how Steve had a weird sixth sense for when someone was causing havoc and mayhem, even if they were doing it unintentionally. It was probably because Steve caused complete and utter chaos wherever they went growing up, his wicked streak only tampered by his strong moral compass and Bucky spending half his time steering him in the other direction, sometimes literally.)

The boy gulped, his expression losing some of the star-struck wonder it carried anytime Steve Rogers was involved (and how Peter was still starry-eyed over Steve despite months of semi-frequent interaction, Bucky will never understand, but he secretly loved it, because if Peter should be awed by anyone, it’s Steve and not Tony f*cking Stark, who was decent, he supposed, but definitely not idol material for an impressionable teen. It’s just an added bonus that Peter is Stark’s protégé, and Bucky knows it kills the man that the young hero holds someone besides himself with such high regard).

Peter turned to face Bucky instead, eyes glued to the floor in front of the ex-assassin, “So you see, someone was mixing chemicals before school trying to create a strong adhesive, or so it’s assumed by the way chunks of goo were stuck to the ceiling, but something went wrong, and it caused an explosion in the freshman labs where they were experimenting because they must be a freshman.”

Steve opened his mouth, clearly ready to lay into the teen for lord knows what, the f*cking hypocrite, but shut it resolutely after Bucky made a slashing motion across his throat, complete with a sharp glare for good measure. He wanted to hear the full story, and he didn’t need Captain America to butt in with his morals and ethics .

“And that damaged some projects that were being stored in a cabinet which caused the entire school to fill with some sort of ominous green smoke slash gas combo that the school administrators deemed likely safe since no one had keeled over, except the one asthmatic kid who forgot his inhaler. But he’s fine! He just needed to leave the building and the ambulance gave him one of those oxygen mask things for a bit, but I saw him walk to his mom’s car, so he’s good,” Peter added after hearing Steve’s shark intake of breath. “They didn’t know for sure if it was safe, so they let us all go home early, and Happy picked me up and brought me here because Aunt May didn’t answer her phone since she’s at work. So yeah, I am here for the day...”

“Peter!” Steve gasped, appalled by the tale. Bucky bit his lip to keep the laugh in... Steve was such a f*cking mom these days, and if his own mother could see him now? Lord, that woman put up with so much sh*t from him (and Bucky), and she would have loved to see the start of karma coming for his ass.

‘Which looks amazing in that uniform, by the way,’ his treacherous thoughts supplied.

Ugh, it did. f*ck.

“What were you thinking?!” Steve squawked, waving his hands as he talked.

“But it’s okay! Because we go to a STEM school that’s basically built to withstand a nuclear explosion, or you know, teen science nerds, so only a few beakers and tables were damaged… and the projects the freshmen were working on. Or so I heard. Rumors, ya know, can you really trust them?” Peter chuckled awkwardly before shrugging.

“I mean, obviously you weren’t thinking, or else you wouldn’t have done something so unnecessarily risky,” Steve continued his rant right over Peter’s last words (and like, wow, when did Steve ever take an unnecessary risk? Uh, like maybe every f*cking day of his life), working himself into a tizzy that had Bucky quickly turning his back to the others so he could use his metal hand to harshly pinch his side to keep his mirth in. f*ck, Steve’s pale skin was starting to flush red all over, and Bucky needed to cut in before he lost it… he’s not even sure if he means Steve losing it or himself at this point.

“That is so dangerous, you -”

“Were only telling a story of something someone else did, right, Peter?”

Bucky twisted back to face the other two now, his laughter mostly contained as long as he didn’t stare at the remaining rosy splotches clinging to Steve’s cheeks.

“Yep, totally,” Peter nodded rapidly, still not making eye contact with either of the Super Soldiers for more than a second. “Just a story I had zero part in.”

“It’s too bad we didn’t have any smart science nerd freshmen back in our school,” Bucky mused, ignoring Steve’s frustrated huff. “We could have used a day or two off that wasn’t due to some awful blizzard or hurricane.”

“This isn’t a good thing that happened, Bucky!” Steve shrieked, and oof, the red splotches were spreading across his ivory skin again.

“Nah, it’s not that bad, Rogers.” Bucky made sure they both saw him roll his eyes, because, really , has Steve always been so dramatic?

‘Yep, definitely, it’s why we got along,’ past-Bucky smoothly remarked.

Ah, makes sense, then.

“As long as that freshman learned from their mistakes, like knowing what chemical they shouldn’t have used, or how they shouldn’t use their own classroom, then it’s fine.”

“We shouldn’t encourage this,” Steve growled, his hands on his hips, staring Bucky down as if he would give in from the sheer force of Steve’s glare. “It’s irresponsible, and someone could have been hurt...or killed!”

“Or worse, expelled ,” Peter stage whispered.

“We aren’t encouraging sh*t,” Bucky forcefully contradicted, scowling at the other man, because come on , Steve, lighten up a little. “It’s all hypothetical.”

“Clearly,” Steve sarcastically drawled, before correcting his posture to stand up straight, shoulders back, as if he was preparing for a fight. He stepped closer to Bucky, and Bucky took a step forward in return, unwilling to back down on this.

To be fair, Bucky knew Peter was the instigator, but the kid was smart as a whip, so he trusted him to not blow the school up or some other stupid sh*t with his science experiments. And Peter likely felt bad over the whole incident (even if it got him a free day out of school), because he was a good kid; Steve was blowing this vastly out of proportion, and Bucky refused to allow Peter to take the heat for Steve’s inability to see sense.

Poor forgotten Peter was stuck in the middle between them, Bucky’s chest inches from the boy’s right shoulder, and Steve’s chest inches from his left, forcing him to face the front of the elevator so he could breathe.

“You know what’s funny, Stevie ?”

“Umm, guys?”

“Yeah, Bucky , what’s funny?”

“Guys?..”

“I distinctly remember a time during one of our sciences classes you thought it would be a good idea to - “

“ Hem hem .”

“You f*cking swore a blood oath you would take that to the grave -”

“Well, a part of me died when I fell off the train, so technically I did take it to the grave, and now it’s fair game -”

“ Hem Hem?”

“Guys! Please don’t fight.”

Steve reeled back, blanching, looking utterly devastated by Bucky’s tactless remark.

All three parts of himself groaned in pain.

f*ck, he never meant to let that thought slip.

‘Mission alert! Imminent mission failure - must protect Steve. Causing pain is not compatible with the mission objective,’ Winter screeched. ‘FIX IT!’

‘I’m still here, too, I didn’t die after the train. Just went away for a bit,’ past-Bucky softly pointed out. ‘Which you know, so that was just mean.’

“No, Buck -”

He slid his hands into his sweatshirt pocket and gave the other man a self-conscious smile. “I’m sorry, that was low, and it’s not true at all.”

Steve’s lip wobbled, and he kept his eyes down as he struggled to find the words he wanted to say.

Bucky sensed his other two counterparts appearing behind him, and he cast a quick glance over his right shoulder to see past-Bucky give him a soft, encouraging smile, before tilting his head towards Steve’s slumped form.

Unwilling to see his closest friend upset and understanding the silent message, Bucky closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around the other Super Soldier in a bone crushing hug.

Because, sometimes, they just didn’t need words at all.

“I’m sorry, Stevie,” he whispered forlornly.

He felt the tension leak out of Steve progressively as the hug went on, Bucky’s own body relaxing in response.

“Me, too, Buck,” Steve quietly responded back, his chin resting on the top of Bucky’s head.

Someone made a wheezing sound (“oh my god, why is this my life?”), but Bucky was too focused feeling relieved he hadn’t completely f*cked up to give it much thought.

“ HEM HEM”

They both jumped apart in shock, turning their gazes away from each other and facing the doors of the elevator, where, oh sh*t, a room full of Avengers were gawking at them from their various perches in the living room.

“Are we interrupting your lover’s spat?” Stark sarcastically asked, arms crossed over his chest as he tapped his foot impatiently. Bucky silently thanked his ancestors for blessing him with a somewhat darker complexion since it hid most of the blush he could feel heating up his cheeks. “Or you know, getting in the middle of it? Oh, I don’t know, perhaps quite literally in some cases.”

Steve caught on first. “Oh my god, Peter, I am so sorry, are you okay?”

“It’s okay Mr. Captain Steve, I’m just glad you guys worked it out! I’m fine, the bruises will heal in no time, but the weird dreams may stick around for a while, so I will just make a concerted effort to never stand in between you two again.”

Bucky patted Peter on the head and tried to hide his smile. “Sorry, kid.”

“Good, glad we got that mess out of the way.” They all followed Stark out of the elevator and into the top level Avengers common room floor which was essentially a kitchen, dining room, living room, and game area in one, Bucky’s past selves shadowing him closely.

“You should get some throat lozenges, Tony, that cough doesn’t sound too good,” Steve commented concernedly, his eyes wide with fake worry; Bucky smirked at the blonde appreciatively, Steve winking back when their gazes met.

‘Still baffled that no one has caught on to the fact that Steve’s a little sh*t,’ past-Bucky whispered conspiringly.

“Because I’d love to say you can continue your little show,” Stark continued, ignoring Steve completely, “since we all love free drama and reality shows these days are just so gauche , and your dynamic is extremely intriguing, you know? But we kind of have a situation that requires this one,” he pointed to Steve, “and this situation, shockingly, is urgent, since that’s kind of our thing and all. And by urgent, I mean we need to move quickly, and I know that’s hard for you senior citizens, but we don’t have time for your theatrics right now, and by the way, did I just hear Steve Rogers say a swear word? Did anyone else hear that, please tell me someone else heard that?”

Stark gazed imploringly around at the room’s other occupants.

“I heard it!” Clint confirmed from the couches, waving a hand into the air.

“Affirmative,” the Widow calmly added.

“I didn’t hear sh*t,” Wilson claimed, because he was a pathetic suck-up.

‘You are so mean,’ past-Bucky snorted. ‘Steve can have other friends.’

‘Friends with inferior skills who still get to go on missions with him while we’re left behind? Not acceptable,’ Winter rejected, peevishly crossing his arms over his chest.

‘Agreeing with Winter on this.’

Bucky raised his eyebrow at the blonde, because that was probably one of the strangest things he’d heard Tony Stark say, and by some sh*tty luck (or because Stark had made Bucky’s new metal arm after deciding he didn’t trust the Hydra one, meaning the two had spent a lot of time together), he’d heard an outrageous amount of weird sh*t from the other Avenger.

Steve shrugged sheepishly but kept silent.

“Because we’re going to talk about that when we get back, because what the f*ck goes on? Captain America swearing? It just boggles my mind, and in case you forgot, I’m a genius, so very few things boggle my mind.”

“You know nothing, Tony Snow,” Wanda quipped from across the room, earning a high five from the red headed Widow.

Bucky wondered if Stark and Peter were distantly related, or if word vomit was a common symptom in genius people. f*ck, he hoped it wasn’t contagious, he spent a large portion of his free time with the youngest hero, and he would die if he developed something like that. His thoughts, in all their chaos, needed to stay safely tucked in his head, please and thank you.

‘And you just had to put that idea out there into the universe, didn’t you?’ past-Bucky grumbled, while Winter shuddered wordlessly next to him.

“Oh, our theatrics?” Steve brushed past Bucky to walk further into the room, ignoring the comment about his language, which, damnit, Bucky needed answers. “That’s just really f*cking rich coming from someone -”

Stark gasped loudly, dramatically bringing his hand to cover his mouth, and Peter’s eyes widened so much that they looked like they were going to pop out of his head.

‘Does Steve not curse in the future?!’

His two past selves shrugged, past-Bucky looking exceptionally skeptical.

Now that’s some bullsh*t Bucky was not buying; hell, he remembers several incidents of overhearing little Steve mumbling swear words in his sleep.

“Steve,” Bucky sighed, lightly placing a hand on his friend’s arm and giving him a look that didn’t require words ( Let it go).

Steve glared back, his jaw clenched tightly ( No, he insulted us!)

‘Stubborn asshole,’ past-Bucky whispered fondly. ‘Always trying to pick fights with people when he should just walk away.’

Bucky narrowed his eyes, raising a single judging eyebrow ( Do you have to fight everyone, Rogers? Jesus, let it go for now, and move on. There’s more important things to deal with right now than avenging your wounded pride because someone called your dramatic ass out).

“Fine,” Steve growled aloud, but only after flicking Bucky in the forehead because he’s a petty asshole who always needed the last word. Bucky was practically overflowing with past-Bucky’s (and his own) fondness at this point.

Steve turned to face Stark, his professional Captain America mask in place while Bucky rubbed his forehead, frowning at how badly it stung. “What’s the situation?”

Bucky, because he wasn’t a five year old, ignored the abuse to his forehead and gently squeezed Steve’s arm before letting go ( Good job, buddy, I’m proud of you).

Steve’s answering smile was blinding, and Bucky scuttled away before doing something stupidly embarrassing, like spewing out his feelings or something similarly gross. He joined Wanda on the plush loveseat farthest from the elevator, the one they called dibs on during movie nights (Steve usually sat on the floor in front of them, claiming he liked the space to spread out, but having the blonde’s weight pressed against his legs was extremely calming; Bucky was regrettably out of practice with the whole socializing thing, and being in a dark room full of dangerous people wasn’t the most sedate activity for a formerly brainwashed assassin, even with his past selves at his back… literally).

“Hey, James.” Wanda patted his leg in greeting, her eyes glued to the game she was playing on her phone (she asked him early on if she could call him ‘James’ because, and quote, “it feels weird calling a grown man ‘Bucky’, no offense”).

“Peter will be staying behind with us today,” he remarked, tucking his legs under him and leaning against her shoulder, pretending like he understood the game she was playing - something about a farm and growing crops? She said it was relaxing, so maybe he’d ask her to teach him; he could use some more zen in his life, especially with one Steve Rogers trying to send him to an early grave.

‘Ask her how many other farmers she had to kill so far to become the top farmer,’ Winter demanded, leaning forward and trying to see her phone screen from his position behind the loveseat - Bucky struggled to keep his face neutral, because what the f*ck.

‘I don't think that’s how it works buddy,’ past-Bucky answered after a moment, and Bucky didn’t need to turn around to see his judgmental look aimed at the former Winter Soldier.

‘Oh, how boring then,’ Winter scoffed, moving back into a standing position and suspiciously observing the others in the room.

Wilson and Clint occupied the large leather couch in the center of the room, along with a slender man drinking tea whom Bucky had never met before. Natasha claimed the love seat across from Wanda by herself, allowing her plenty of space to to freely sharpen her knives so she wouldn’t “accidentally” stab someone… again (“Oops, sorry Clint, didn’t mean to nick you”).

Vision, the sentient but non-human/non-robot man with a magical stone in his head (Steve had a hard time explaining that part, and Bucky just accepted the future was wild and moved on), floated behind the couch, observing but not participating in any of the conversations going on around him. Bucky saw him casting surreptitious glances in Wanda’s direction when he believed no one was looking, and the brunette filed that little tidbit away to tease the witch about later.

“Oh, hey, Bucky,” Clint greeted, his smile wide and friendly. “Love the look you’re rocking today, man, you look f*cking adorable if you don’t mind me saying.”

‘Yes, we look soft and unthreatening to lure you into a false sense of security, and then we stab you right in the appendix!’ Winter cackled manically. ‘Cute, but deadly.’

‘But… we like Clint, right?’ Past-Bucky tentatively asked, and Bucky nodded subtlety in response.

‘That’s why we stab him in the appendix, idiot. He’ll survive, but we make a point of our overall superiority,’ Winter answered snidely. ‘Others we don’t like won’t be so lucky, of course.’

‘Oh, yes, of course, how silly of me,’ past-Bucky sarcastically responded.

Clint Barton was pretty much the only fully-fledged Avenger that Bucky honestly and truly liked (besides Steve, of course). From the very first time they met, Clint had been warm and welcoming, a drastic change from the suspicious glances, tenseness, and snide comments from nearly everyone else he’d come in contact with when he first came to the Tower. On one of Bucky’s bad days, when he was feeling bitter and angry and small and so very pathetic, several weeks before he was finally allowed to move in with Steve, Bucky had furiously demanded to know why Clint was so nice to him.

The archer had said, “I’ve been brainwashed before, by a vengeful alien god and forced to do terrible things I had no control over. It wasn’t for more than a few days or so, but it was f*cking awful, and I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through. Because, it was my hands that did those terrible things, and my body, but not my brain, not truly; how are you even supposed to move on from something like that? I attacked the one person who means the most to me in the entire goddamn world, and I will never f*cking forgive myself for that, even though she forgives me and was the one who saved me from his clutches. And, I don’t really have any advice for you, but I get it, ya know? So yeah, that’s why I’m nice to you… because I’ve been there, too, and I’m sure your brain is telling you something different, but it’s not your fault, man, and I hope one day we’ll both believe that about ourselves.”

“Oh… thanks, Clint, I appreciate that,” he mumbled, giving the man a shy grin and quickly averting his gaze back to Wanda’s phone, uncomfortable with the attention everyone was suddenly paying him.

“James is always adorable,” Wanda smirked, finally glancing up from her device.

“Cute but deadly,” he sniffed, turning his nose up haughtily.

“Like a cat,” Natasha snickered, curling her hand like she had a paw with claws. “But with knives.”

“Hey, Bucky, have you met Bruce?” Clint suddenly asked, pointing at the other man in the room that Bucky hadn’t known. “He’s Tony’s science buddy and was in space for a bit until a few days ago.”

The man in question next to Wilson waved. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you, Bucky, I’ve heard a lot about you. And I agree with Clint; that’s a nice sweatshirt you got there.”

Bucky winced at the implications of the man’s words. “Can’t be too nice to meet me, then, depending on who you talked to.”

Wanda rested her head against his in silent comfort.

‘Uh, f*cking false. He should be honored to meet us,’ Winter firmly contradicted, and Bucky had to resist rolling his eyes at his past self’s ego.

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” Bruce swiftly corrected, shaking his head. “Trust me, I don’t judge, either. I know what it’s like to have a part inside you that you can’t really control and that can hurt others so easily that it’s hard to comprehend sometimes.”

“Oh, you’re...” Bucky tried to think of how to word it without offending this man who had shown him such understanding within mere minutes of meeting. “The green guy that saved Stark from falling to his death after he went into space with that nuke when aliens were invading but then disappeared a few years later after helping stop the evil robots from destroying the entire world?”

‘Also extremely volatile and dangerous to be around, in case you missed that part,’ Winter added, shifting restlessly while eyeing the timid Bruce seated on the couch.

Bruce blinked owlishly, his lips turning down into a slight frown. “Well, that’s an overly simplified version of the other guy but-“

“It’s the one that matters,” Bucky firmly asserted. “And you give Steve the best gifts.” He pointed down to his astronaut kitten sweatshirt.

Steve explained to him how dangerous the Hulk was, sure, but if this guy couldn’t be seen as a hero when he had actually done heroic things with the team, then what hope was there for Bucky to become anything remotely close to that?

Stark, Steve, and Peter finally finished their discussion (Bucky assumed it was about Peter’s training) and joined them in the living area, putting an end to his stare down with Bruce. The younger hero sat on the armrest of Bucky and Wanda’s shared loveseat, and he briefly wondered if Peter was sitting next to him so he wouldn’t block Vision’s view of Wanda, or if he just preferred to sit by Bucky in general. Was Bucky the only one who noticed the synthezoid’s interest in the youngest female Avenger?

‘Or maybe he is just terrified and awkward around girls,' past-Bucky whispered, and their gazes simultaneously shifted down to Steve, the other Super Soldier taking his customary seat on the floor in front of Bucky.

‘But he’s spent months around Wanda, why would he still be awkward?’

Wanda and Peter had taken their self-assigned task of “Introducing Bucky Barnes to All the Cool Things in the World” very seriously, and the three of them were pretty much attached at the hip if Peter wasn’t in school/patrolling and Wanda wasn’t in training with Clint and/or Natasha (Bucky didn’t really have a life, so he was pretty much always free unless Steve was around, but even then, they’d usually just include Steve in their activity).

Past-Bucky shared a brief memory of a much younger Steve -

(“Not everyone can be smooth and confident around dames, Bucky, even if they grew up with each other; females are frightening, and I don’t know how you can’t see that.” Past-Bucky had just laughed uproariously at his friend, slung an arm around an indignant Steve’s skinny shoulders, and tucked the blonde protectively into his side).

Stark’s booming voice brought Bucky back to the present.

“Alright, listen up Avengers, Baby Avengers, and Pet Assassin ( “Tony!”) , sorry Cap, Pet Ex-Assassin, if you can bring your attention to our brand spankin new, next-level television screen, Friday will pull up what we know so far about our situation.”

“Psst, Widow,” Bucky whispered, his voice purposefully louder than it needed to be. “Are you going to let him talk about you like that?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow at Bucky, expertly twirling one of her many shiny blades around her fingers; Clint’s pleased snicker made the comment worth it, even though Winter was losing his sh*t at the potential threat.

‘She’s going to stab you in your sleep,’ past-Bucky warned, only partially joking.

‘I would like to see her try,’ Winter growled darkly. ‘It would be a good excuse to eliminate a threat.’

‘She watches Steve’s back, though,’ past-Bucky reminded both of them, and damn, he had a point.

“No, Natasha,” Steve wearily reprimanded, running a hand tiredly over his face. Natasha frowned, her shoulders slumping dejectedly, but she sheathed the weapon and began the arduous process of strapping the plethora of knives into her uniform (even Winter was skeptical they would all fit).

“Okay, children, settle down,” Bruce calmly directed, his frame appearing startlingly small on the couch in between Wilson and Clint’s bulkier forms. “It’s time to go to work.”

“Good to see you, Bruce,” Steve genuinely said, and Bucky could hear the friendly smile in his voice. “Glad you’re back.”

‘Steve is such a nice guy,’ past-Bucky sighed wistfully. ‘Even back in my day, he was always amicable and kind to people.’

‘Until he wasn’t,’ Bucky chuckled.

‘Until he wasn’t,’ past-Bucky agreed with a snort. ‘To be fair, the people Steve didn’t get along with always deserved his scorn.’

“Yes, thank you Brucey, appreciate it bud. Love the new sweater, by the way, is it cashmere?”

“Tony.”

“Ah, yes, Cap, don’t get your panties in a twist. Or are you a brief kind of guy? No, no, never mind, no one besides Barnes really needs to know.”

‘What the f*ck?’ past-Bucky hissed, echoing Bucky’s own thoughts.

“What -”

“So!” Stark energetically continued, clapping his hands together twice and cutting Steve off, the Super Soldier huffing in annoyance. “Pack your straw hats, folks, and plenty of sunscreen, because we are heading to the infamous birthplace of Spring Break… or the place where Americans go to die, depending on your perspective. Yes, you guessed it, we are off to Florida! Some assholes decided to play God and tried creating a new species of reptile that, oh can you believe it, is now going on a ferocious rampage through the swamp.”

A picture of an honest to god Swamp Monster appeared on the screen, taken from either a satellite or a drone, and Bucky squinted, convinced his eyes were playing tricks. He tilted his head slowly in each direction as his brain tried to figure out what the f*ck he was looking at, seeing the others and his past selves in his peripheral vision doing the same.

“Do we know what they were attempting to mix? And why?” Steve smartly questioned, because seriously, what the f*ck was the purpose of creating this monstrosity other than setting it loose on the population?

“It looks like Godzilla with wings. But the water version,” Wilson immediately replied, and Bucky bit his lip to keep himself from commenting that the Swamp Monster looked a lot like Wilson when he had his Falcon wings on.

‘Say it coward, I dare you,’ Winter jeered.

“With the nose of a platypus, though,” Clint promptly added.

“It’s called a snout, Clint, not a nose.”

“Thank you, Natasha. Our mission would clearly go off the rails without the vital piece of data.”

“Umm… I think I know,” Peter mumbled in response to Steve’s question, and Bucky wasn’t surprised when only Steve turned expectantly to the teen. Even with enhanced hearing and sitting a foot away, Bucky barely heard the kid, and Clint’s bickering with Natasha didn’t make it any easier.

Peter fiddled nervously with the web shooters around his wrist, undoubtedly anxious to speak in front of a room full of “heroes” - the teen superhero wasn’t usually in the presence of more than two or three of them at a time. Being around (almost) the whole group was exceptionally overwhelming, something the former-assassin understood completely.

Bucky gently grabbed the teen’s hand, squeezing it softly in encouragement (but also so Peter wouldn’t actually embarrass himself by raising his hand like he was in school), before letting it go.

“Peter has an idea,” Bucky announced to the group, his voice loud enough to cut over the spies squabbling with one another.

Bucky’s hand shot out, senses sharper than his thoughts in this instance, and he hoisted Peter back onto the love seat before he could crash onto the floor in all his flailing glory.

“Uhh..” Peter stammered, eyes impossibly wide as he found himself the spotlight in a room full of his idols.

“Go ahead, Peter,” Steve encouraged kindly, turning to smile softly at the nervous teen. His eyes caught Bucky’s, and his smile broadened, Bucky’s heart stuttering in response as he quickly grinned back.

Peter’s eyes darted shyly to Bucky, who gave a short nod in response, patting the teen’s knee.

“So, a fossil for Dunkleosteus was uncovered in Florida a few years ago.”

“Bless you.”

“Shut up, Tony.”

Peter noticed the confused looks he was getting from everyone except Vision.

“It’s, um, a water dinosaur fish thing basically. With natural body armor, incredibly strong jaw, and a reputation for being one of the fiercest predators of all land and marine creatures during the time before it went extinct.”

“Oh, awesome, I definitely had prehistoric war fish on my villain bingo card,” Wilson grumbled.

“Yes, right next to the medieval fire-breathing dragons,” Stark sarcastically added.

Natasha finished stuffing her uniform with all her knives, and Winter had questions .

“At least dinosaurs are from Earth, and it’s not aliens again,” she remarked, reaching down to pull a sleek, black rectangular case from under the loveseat. Bucky forced his gaze away from the display and placed his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, all three parts of himself sighing longingly, for once agreeing on something besides ‘Steve Rogers Must be Protected at ALL Costs’ - they missed using their guns, their fingers itching for the comfort their customized rifle provided.

“Never thought I’d miss the robots,” Clint melodramatically sighed, dragging his quiver out from under the coffee table and began meticulously rearranging his arrows (Bucky and Peter both lowered their eyes trying to guess what goodies existed under their loveseat).

Winter crouched down, flattening his stomach onto the ground as he assessed their furniture. ‘Nothing interesting, just the Glock G29 we put under here.’

Bucky winced internally, having completely forgotten he hid anything under there and wondering when was the last time he assessed and cleaned all the weapons he hid around the Tower for possible emergencies.

‘It’s been WEEKS!’ Winter hissed judgmentally.

‘Oh, sh*t, uh, I’ll get right on that when we can get away from everyone.’

‘You said that last week,’ past-Bucky noted without judgment. ‘And then the week before that, too.’

“Any good news, Peter?” Steve valiantly asked, once again leading the conversation back in the desired direction (and unknowingly pulling Bucky from his internal crisis).

“It’s known for swimming slowly, and it didn’t have wings normally, considering it breathes underwater and all, so it may struggle to move with the added weight on its back. Honestly, wings don’t really make sense, so not sure what they were going for there unless it’s just to terrify people.” (If that’s the case, the creators did a good job there, considering it made even the fearless Winter uneasy).

“It also didn’t have a snout, so it’s jaw may not work as effectively.” Natasha turned smugly to Clint at the word ‘snout’, the archer rolling his eyes exasperatedly. “The fossil was supposed to be displayed in the museum in the state’s capital, but it disappeared before it got there.”

“So our villain of the day got their hands on this duckfishtus -”

“Dunkleosteus, Mr. Stark,” Peter politely corrected.

“The duckfishtus was combined with some sort of winged creature -”

“Probably a winged dinosaur like a pterodactyl,” Vision knowledgeably added.

“And now we have this monstrosity, the duckfishtus 2.0,’ Tony determinedly finished, pointing at the screen.

They all shuddered at the image displayed; this would not be a simple mission for anyone, including Bucky, his anxiety spiking just by looking at the length and sharpness of the creature's teeth.

Steve reached up, placing his right hand on his own shoulder as if he was going to rub a sore muscle; when he wiggled his fingers, Bucky took the hint and entwined their fingers together. The blonde gave his hand a squeeze, gently caressing Bucky’s hand with his thumb before dropping his arm back down to his lap.

‘Start crying,’ past-Bucky suddenly demanded.

‘What? No! Why…?’

‘Maybe if you cry at the idea of Steve going off to fight that terrible monster without you, he’ll take you with him. Or stay behind if you throw a proper fit.’

Winter snorted derisively. 'Yeah, no, don’t do that. They will think you’re weak and pathetic, and then we’ll never get to go.’

‘Well, you are weak and pathetic, so they’ll just be learning the truth about you,’ his inner voice chimed; it was promptly shouted down by his two former- selves.

“Looks like Bruce came back just in time, this is gonna be a tough one,” Clint acknowledged, bumping his shoulder lightly into Bruce’s.

“No sh*t, Sherlock,” Natasha scoffed, agilely dodging his foot flying out to kick her shin; Clint sucked in a sharp breath when the Widow returned the kick and didn’t miss her target.

“So,” Clint resolutely continued, glaring at the red head who stuck her tongue out at him. “We need to make sure we’re communicating consistently and analyzing for weak points before we get too close.”

“We can talk about it on the quinjet, we’ve wasted a lot of time already,” Steve said, his voice deep and steady, easily carrying across the room. He had switched fully into Captain-America-Leader-Mode, and Bucky noted everyone suddenly sat up a little straighter, himself included. “But we’ll fight this thing as we do every other obstacle we’ve been up against; together, as a team.”

‘We should be on that team,’ past-Bucky muttered bitterly, Winter nodding sulkily next to him.

At Steve’s comment, Friday blessedly turned the screen off, and the others began standing up, gathering their gear and for Clint, a few bags of chips from the bowl in the center of the table. Bucky and the two youngest sedately followed behind the Team, as it was tradition for anyone remaining behind to see the others off if they were able to.

“Steve,” Wilson began quietly, walking side by side with Steve at the front of the pack as the group exited the elevator onto the roof where the tarmac was located. Bucky’s ears perked up, and since Peter stopped in the middle of a rousing play by play of some nerd robot sports show he watched the other day (the future was so f*cking weird, like... robot sports?), he wasn’t the only one eavesdropping.

Wanda, perhaps noticing Steve and Wilson with their heads bent together in a heated discussion or because she had a Bucky-needs-comfort sense, entwined her fingers through Bucky’s flesh hand, gently swinging their clasped hands back and forth as they followed behind.

“No, Sam.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say, man.”

“I do, and the answer is no, he’s not coming,” Steve countered, the tense line of his shoulders visible to everyone, no enhanced vision needed.

“This mission is going to require all of us working together if we want a chance in hell at destroying this thing,” Wilson staunchly continued, and Bucky was kind of touched the other soldier was advocating on his behalf, since Bucky maybe-sorta-kind of-definitely had been a dick to him in most of their interactions. “And we would do well to have all hands on deck, the kids included.”

“Absolutely not, Sam, there’s no way,” Steve rejected irritably, shaking his head. “He isn’t ready for the field yet, and with a mission as difficult as this, it’s not the time to test it out, especially since he hasn’t worked with anyone except me. And that was literally a lifetime ago, before things… changed.”

Bucky frowned, noticing he was the only one Steve referred to with his objection, and Winter growled in frustration behind him.

Steve stopped at the entrance to the jet and turned to face the other Avenger; Bucky and the others were still making their way towards the aircraft, Steve tending to walk faster when he was trying to avoid a difficult conversation (something past-Bucky knew all too well, even back when Steve’s legs had been a lot shorter and his lungs significantly weaker).

The blonde lowered his voice only slightly, either not realizing how good his oldest friend’s enhanced hearing was or foolishly thinking Bucky would respect his privacy.

‘Steve should remember we have always been overly curious,’ past-Bucky said unapologetically. ‘That’s on him if he’s forgotten.’

“And frankly, Sam,” Steve continued, placing his hands on his hips and staring Wilson down, his words tumbling rapidly from his lips, “I’m not sure he’ll ever join us on missions. He’s been through way too much, and it’s not fair to force him to fight with us when he’s already been fighting for decades without a choice.”

He appreciated the skeptical look Wilson leveled at Steve, because, what the f*ck? Bucky wanted to fight alongside the other Super Soldier; it was HIS personal choice, not someone else's; it would be the first time in an eternity where he could decide for himself who he wanted to fight beside…why didn’t Steve understand that?

Bucky couldn’t even enjoy the knowledge that he was correct in assuming Steve was the main obstacle preventing him from joining the Team because he was too goddamned furious at Steve’s audacity in the first place.

“And, to be honest, I just wouldn’t be able to focus on completing the mission knowing he was out there with us, you know? He’s a good sniper and decent at hand-to-hand combat, but he’s a walking minefield of potential triggers which makes him a dangerous liability out in the field, and as the leader of this team, I’m not willing to take that risk.” Wilson opened his mouth to argue, but Steve stubbornly barreled on. “Besides, I don’t trust that he would complete the mission if something happened to me, nor am I confident that he would have yours and the others’ backs if necessary. After all the sh*t Hydra put him through, he’s not even a complete, fully functioning person, which is totally understandable, and I don’t blame him for that at all.. but considering his triggers are still a giant f*cking issue in safe settings like the Tower, can you imagine them out in the field? Please, Sam…let it f*cking go, it’s never going to happen…he’s staying behind for everyone’s safety, including his own.”

Oh.

Oh…

Winter immediately flew into a vicious rant behind Bucky, outraged that their abilities were being questioned; they were professional, in a league entirely their own with their advanced skill set, and how dare anyone, even Steve, refer to them by inferior terms like ‘good’ and ‘decent’.

Past-Bucky was suspiciously silent.

And Bucky himself?

He… he couldn’t breathe.

Wanda tightened her grip on his hand; Bucky wasn’t sure if she could hear the two Avengers at this point or if she correctly interpreted the devastation that likely showed on his face.

On his left, Peter made a pained gasping noise that sounded awfully close to a sob.

Oh, no, wait, Bucky apparently made that noise himself, seeing as how Peter’s jaw was clenched in silent rage, his teeth grinding together loud enough to the point where Bucky was afraid he’d chip a tooth at any moment. After a quick glance at the older brunette, Peter supportively threaded his arm through Bucky’s metal one, standing tall as they approached the quinjet.

Bucky’s lungs burned as they screamed for air, and he wished he could disappear; he’d give anything, do anything, to make the shame and embarrassment and devastation go away.

Because Steve was right.

Bucky was barely a functioning person at all anymore; he hardly left their apartment, he never left the Tower, he barely took care of himself, he had no hobbies, hardly any friends, no job, pretty much spent most of his day talking to the voices in his head. He had nothing, was nothing.

He was a burden to those around him.

How could he be so stupid to think that even with his Hydra programming destroyed, Steve would allow Bucky to fight by his side as if he was completely healed from the extensive trauma he endured over the last 70 years?

How could he be so stupid to think he could waltz into the Tower and immediately gain the same type of trust and respect that Steve had for past-Bucky?

How could he be so stupid to think he was good enough to fight beside Steve?

How could he be so stupid to think that Steve would want him around at all?

He should leave while Steve’s gone.

He should leave before Steve comes back and kicks him out.

He should leave before he’s replaced.

‘Winter, shut the f*ck up with your narcissistic bitching, and DO something!’ past-Bucky screeched, causing Bucky to flinch at the sound; Wanda and Peter began muttering calming phrases that Bucky’s anguished brain couldn’t process.

‘What do you want me to - oh… okay.’

Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky saw Winter place his flesh hand on Bucky’s own metal shoulder.

‘Let everything go, Soldier. You are not bound by the weakness of humanity - you are the encroaching darkness of night, the ghost in the shadows, your mind a blank, snowed out slate until orders are given. You are a machine, and machines do not have emotions. Remember your training, remember your mission. You are unbreakable, your skills unrivaled, and nothing will prevent you from completing your mission.’

Bucky finally took a steadying breath, his lungs all but crying from relief, and Winter dropped his hand back down to his side. Readily embracing the simpler emotional state that had been conditioned into him for decades, Bucky wrapped the hardened cocoon around himself as easily as he did his favorite blanket. It was different than before, as he still had control over his actions which led to marginally greater mental awareness, but the emotional dullness was a breath of fresh air for his overwhelmed mind.

He would not break down here and prove Steve’s assessment correct.

He couldn’t.

“Hey man.” Wilson lifted his hands up in defeat. “This is the last thing I’m gonna say, cuz it’s not really my place, but I think you should talk to Barnes about it since he’s been very adamant about wanting to join us. And considering he was the one that lived through that sh*t, but still came back here on his own, his opinion matters.”

Steve opened his mouth to cut in, but Wilson kept going.

”And, hell, while we’re doing this, let me remind you as you’ve apparently forgotten, you spent a whole f*cking year trying to find his ass and were ready to pull him out of whatever god forsaken hole he crawled into so you could both be besties again, whether he wanted to go with you or not. What was your plan? To keep him safely locked away in the Tower like some damsel prince while you went off on missions with the Team? And, then what? You would come back and play house with him until you needed to leave again, and he’d be left behind to pine anxiously for your return?”

Wilson took a deep breath, glaring at Steve when he looked like he would interrupt. “Steve, you had faith that you could break decades of his conditioning with nothing more than your sheer stubbornness and belief in the strength of your bond - why can’t you have faith that he can get better, especially if you actually gave him a chance instead of hiding him away from all the bad and scary things in the world? After everything he endured, Barnes deserves the freedom to make choices for himself, don’t you think?”

Steve opened his mouth to finally respond but shut it with a resounding snap as the others approached the entrance to the quinjet. “Uhh, this looks awkward,” Stark unabashedly remarked upon seeing the fierce scowl Steve was leveling at Wilson, the other man steadily gazing back with his arms crossed over his chest. “Let’s save the fighting for the dunkfishtus 2.0 guys.”

Stark swiftly strode up the ramp and into the jet with Clint, Natasha, Bruce, and Vision following closely behind.

Wilson clapped Steve amicably on the shoulder and turned to leave, apparently feeling better after his rant.

“Just think about it, man.”

‘Say something nice to him,’ past-Bucky demanded.

“Good luck, Wilson.”

Sam stopped on his way up the ramp, surprised Barnes had spoken to him or even acknowledged his presence, considering the former-assassin literally said one nice thing to him in the months he’s been around and purposefully went out of his way to avoid speaking to him when they were in the same room (he did apologize for breaking Sam’s wings and begrudgingly remarked that he was a ‘decent’ opponent with his mastery of them… Steve swore Barnes apologized on his own with no prodding from him, but Sam was exceedingly skeptical of this claim, though he accepted the apology).

The Falcon’s expression turned guilty when he saw Barnes was wearing his blank, dead-eyed ‘Winter Soldier’ mask, the one he usually had on around anyone who wasn’t Steve until Wanda broke his programming a few months ago.

Since then, he only wore it when he was having issues handling his emotions (at least according to Steve), and Sam hadn’t seen it in, hell, weeks. The fact that Stark’s protégé was glaring daggers at Steve instead of staring at him in awe like he usually did and Wanda’s unoccupied hand was glowing a faint red told Sam his conversation with the Captain was definitely not private.

And Captain America? He hadn’t noticed the potentially volatile situation he’d caused, too engrossed in staring off to the side, mulling over Sam’s words (or so he hoped).

Sam did the only sensible thing one could do in this situation; he quickly thanked Barnes before fleeing into the safety of the jet and leaving Steve to, frankly, his much deserved fate.

Steve appreciated his friend sharing his opinion with him, since most people were too afraid of the whole ‘Captain America’ thing to be honest and upfront with him, but it was still frustrating to have the same conversations over and over again.

Sam, plain and simple, didn’t understand where Steve was coming from. But, how could he? Sam had been close with his wingman, Riley, sure, but the two Airmen met only a few years before Riley died unexpectedly in battle, and they were both already adults and had been serving in the Air Force for a while upon meeting.

But Steve and Bucky? They’d been friends since they were five years old and just starting school, and if those stupid history books got anything right about the two of them, it was that they were inseparable, essentially attached at the hip, until Bucky left for the war in their mid-twenties.

Growing up, Steve was frail and sick more often than not, and he had a hard time making friends due to his medical conditions leaving him bed ridden and unable to play like a normal child, even when he wasn’t stuck inside. Coupled with the defensive walls and prickly attitude he developed after being bullied and ridiculed by both peers and adults before he could even walk, Bucky’s devout loyalty was unprecedented.

Whereas Steve was quiet, shy, sassy, weak, and always so very angry with the world, his friend was the literal complete opposite. Bucky was sociable, charming, witty, strong, and shined so very, very bright - without even trying, his friend would command attention just by walking into the room, his subtle beauty and overflowing charisma unmatched by the finest dames.

Bucky was, to the very core, everything Steve admired, because his friend was everything Steve was not. And yet, by some f*cking miracle, a five (almost six) year old Bucky decided Steve was worthy of his friendship (even after Steve had punched the taller boy in the stomach, thinking he was going to run off with his backpack. In reality, Bucky had climbed up the jungle gym to retrieve it for Steve after some older kids chucked it up there because he knew the scrawny blonde would never be able to get it down on his own).

Bucky had been affronted for all of ten seconds before laughing boisterously and waving off Steve’s horrified, stuttered apology when he realized his mistake. And instead of walking off and that being the end of it all, Bucky had simply thrown his arm over Steve’s narrow shoulders like it belonged there, tucked the blonde safely into his side, and declared them best friends. (“And that is just how it’s gonna be, so you better accept it, now, Stevie, cuz you’re stuck with me for forever pal, no take backs, ya hear me?”). It was one of the few times in Steve’s life where he couldn’t think of a smart-aleck comment to make in response.

They had fights over the years, of course they did. And sometimes those fights ended in physical brawls that left Steve bruised and/or limping and Bucky covered in scratches or the occasional bite mark (because Steve utilized what few things he could to his advantage, even if he felt kind of bad about it, and Bucky always got distracted from his anger when Steve bit him).

Steve rarely started their physical fights, surprisingly. With Bucky, he attempted to avoid their issues, sometimes literally turning in the other direction when he saw him in the hallway at school, or having his Ma tell Bucky that he was sick and needed to be alone. Steve, generally, was unwilling to use his fists on his friend like he did with other people, but he also wasn’t the best at talking about his feelings in any situation, even to Bucky. Every time they argued or fought, the little anxious voice that was always present in his head suddenly got louder, telling him that this was the final straw - Bucky would realize he had nothing to gain from being friends with a pathetic kid like Steve, and he’d end their friendship as quickly as it began. So Steve would avoid Bucky like the plague, unwilling to face such a conversation (though logically he knew he couldn’t dodge it forever).

Because if there was one thing that undoubtedly set Bucky off, every single time and without fail, it was being ignored by Steve. Their fights were few and far between, both the physical and emotional ones, but they always ended with Steve having an armful of a tearful and apologetic Bucky. The older boy was prone to outward emotional displays, usually tears of frustration (because he hated how Steve tried to solve everything with fury and fists) or tears of guilt (because he hated fighting with Steve, whether it was with physical violence or just them shouting nasty things at each other, and he loathed hurting the smaller boy in any way).

Steve didn’t think he’d ever see Bucky again when his friend left for overseas, especially with how badly the war was going for their side at the time. But then, heart in his throat, he was pulling a dazed Bucky off that table in Austria where the Nazi’s had used him for their twisted science experiments, and against all odds, Steve’s best friend was back in his arms, safe, a bit beaten up, but alive. By some further miracle, they made it back to camp together.

And just like that, it was suddenly Steve and Bucky together against the world again, inseparable until missions pulled them only slightly apart, Bucky at his back like he had been since they were five years old. War was sh*tty, beyond anything Steve could have ever imagined, but with Bucky’s steady presence by his side, it wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been (the fact that his new body meant he could actually do something for once helped, too).

To lose Bucky only a year or so later, and seemingly for good, destroyed Steve more than he would ever admit to anyone, his friend included. Steve lasted, what, a week without the other man? He wasn’t an idiot, he knew there were other solutions besides dropping that plane into the icy ocean, but what would be the point of choosing a safer option? Maybe he could have gone back and had a nice life with Peggy, but the Bucky-sized hole that had been recently ripped out of his heart left him with very little heart left over to give, and that wouldn’t have been fair to her or himself.

There were no words in any of Earth’s hundreds of languages to describe how he felt on the bridge that day when the Winter Soldier’s mask fell away, and suddenly it was his Bucky standing in front of him, emotionless and murderous, but blessedly alive and there, within Steve’s stunned reach - ‘miracle’ came close if he had to choose something, but it didn’t seem to encompass the full gravity of his emotions.

The sheer amount of guilt he felt after seeing Bucky alive was almost debilitating. Steve realized that by never looking for Bucky after he fell off the train, he essentially allowed the birth of the Winter Soldier to occur, and the blood of the Asset’s victims were on Steve’s own hands. And while Steve was sleeping peacefully in the ice for seventy years, Bucky was being tortured, traumatized, and forced to commit atrocities against his will, all because Steve didn’t search for his best friend.

After the battle on the helicarriers, he searched for Bucky for a year with no luck (who even after seventy some odd years of being tortured and brainwashed by Hydra still remembered Steve enough to save his life from drowning in the Potomac). And then, by some other miracle Steve didn’t deserve but was grateful for, Bucky had randomly shown up in his living room in the Tower one day like he belonged there (which he did, because he would always have a home wherever Steve was).

Steve felt disgusted by himself for never once thinking the strongest person he knew in the world could survive that fall from the train, felt undeserving of the blessing of Bucky’s friendship, but still couldn’t garner the self control to stay away from his friend. Instead, he swore an oath to himself that he would always protect Bucky, no matter what the cost was to himself… or others.

Steve simply could not and would not survive losing him another time - the Super Soldier serum protected him from all kinds of extensive physical harm to his body, but even the serum couldn’t heal the emotional damage that losing Bucky again would inflict on him.

Steve would do anything and say anything to keep Bucky safe, even if he had to tell a few lies that burned him to the core as they escaped his throat.

“Shouldn’t you be going Steve?”

A sharp voice jerked him back to the present, his thoughts racing after his conversation with Sam. His eyes immediately landed on Bucky first, as they typically did, and Steve’s heart stopped at the unfortunately familiar emotionless look on his handsome face.

Seeing Wanda and Peter protectively flanking Bucky, arms and hands linked with his, their expressions fierce and angry as they glared Steve down gave him an unexpected wave of nostalgia. Bucky had been the oldest of four children, and his three younger sisters usually liked Steve, but when the two boys were arguing? The three Barnes girls were terrifying , always popping out of nowhere to flank their brother when he finally cornered Steve into talking to him (“ I’ll pee in your shoes if you ever make Bucky cry again, don’t think I won’t, Steve Rogers!” his youngest sister, Gracie, had once threatened him when her other siblings had moved out of earshot.)

Steve had a feeling Wanda and Peter would have worse threats than just some urine in his shoes.

“I admired you for a long time, Steve ,” Peter spat the name like the foulest curse word, his right arm securely looped with Bucky’s metal arm, “because I thought you fought for the little guys who were unfairly picked on and discriminated against. But you’re actually something worse than a bully, you know? You’re a really f*cking bad friend, and you evidently don’t know the first thing about what Bucky’s like now, because if you did, you would know he’s worth ten of you. And, truthfully, I’ll never understand why he wants to go on missions with you in the first place, because you’re just… you’re fake, and you’re an asshole, and I hope you’re ashamed of yourself because I know I’m ashamed of you. Bucky deserves better than you.”

Steve gaped at the harsh words from the usually genial teen, and even Wanda raised an eyebrow in surprise. He shuffled his feet, frustrated, because why didn’t anyone understand he was just trying to protect Bucky; how did wanting to keep his friend safe from harm make him the villain here?

He opened his mouth to respond, to plead for understanding - Steve had sworn to himself weeks ago that Bucky would never wear that look again, all dead-eyed and unemotional like he was the brainwashed Asset once more. And for Steve himself to be the cause of that? f*ck.

(He had half a heart to ask the others to go without him, maybe take Wanda instead. But he knew Clint wouldn’t allow her to go until he deemed her properly trained regardless of her incredible powers, and besides, Steve was the leader who had a responsibility to his Team.)

Wanda cut him off before he could formulate an explanation.

“No, Steve, go on your mission and you can work this out when you return, if James is willing to talk to you at that point. Not that you deserve it, of course, but that’s James’s choice, and I won’t let my own feelings get in the way of him making choices for himself.”

She gave him a hard stare.

“You’re right, okay, yeah.” Steve ran his hand tiredly over his face; why was everything always so hard? “We can talk it out when I get back.”

Wanda loudly cleared her throat.

“If you want,” he added meekly, peering hopefully at Bucky, the former-assassin hardly reacting.

“Affirmative.”

f*ck, that was the Soldier’s tone.

He needed to do something before he left; he refused to leave his friend with things this bad between them.

Steve hastily searched his mind for possible options; he braced himself for rejection when he thought of one he wasn’t sure would go over well.

“Can I hug you, Buck? Please?”

Bucky jerked his head in some semblance of a nod.

Steve waited a moment for the two teens to step away from Bucky, sighing internally when they just tightened their grip.

Stepping forward slowly, he wrapped his arms carefully around his friend, cautious to avoid touching either of the younger ones by accident. Steve waited with bated breath for something to happen; Wanda shocking him with her magic, Peter webbing him and tossing him into the quinjet, or even the Soldier shoving a knife into his side. (He wouldn’t have blamed any of them since he deserved worse for hurting Bucky so deeply with his callous words, regardless of what his true intentions were.)

When nothing happened except Peter impatiently tapping his foot and clearing his throat, Steve strengthened his grip; Bucky finally moved, making himself smaller and tucking his face into the side of Steve’s neck, and the blonde gently rested his chin on the top of his friend’s head.

Steve wanted to cry.

“Good luck, Stevie,” Bucky whispered, his tone still lacking it’s usual liveliness but the familiar nickname caused warmth to flow through Steve’s body.

Taking a deep, centering breath, Steve dropped his arms and stepped back, preparing himself to finally leave.

“Don’t worry, we’ll look after him while you’re gone,” Peter glowered, tugging on Bucky’s arm to lead him back to the Tower. Steve easily heard the boy’s muttered, “Not that you care, asshole.”

The two walked off; Peter with long, angry strides leading a more graceful Bucky, his sharp and calculated gait still reminiscent of the fully brainwashed Asset.

“I need to go, Wanda,” he sighed, glancing away from her heavy gaze.

She didn’t say anything for a moment, just stared, weighing her words.

“You saw what Tony’s fears caused him to do - he almost destroyed the entire world trying to prevent what he was most afraid of from coming true. Are you willing to let your fears destroy your world, Steve? Because I know you mean well, I truly do.”

She turned to follow the others back into the Tower.

“But Tony did, too, and he almost lost everything.”

Steve entered the plane feeling the worst he ever had in his entire lengthy existence, even before the serum; he was grateful no one commented on his delayed entrance.

“You wanna talk about it?” Natasha questioned softly a few minutes after the quinjet took off. They were the only two in the back of the plane, the others understanding that Steve needed some space and thankfully giving it to him.

Natasha never did tend to follow trends.

“No,” he answered firmly, staring resolutely ahead.

“Alright, I’m here for you if you change your mind, you know that, right? We had a rocky start, but we are friends, in case you still weren’t sure.”

He made the mistake of glancing over at her, and something in the openness in her expression, or the gentleness of her tone, or maybe because she said they were ‘friends’ and he hadn’t had many of those in his extended lifetime, caused him to break.

“Nat, I - I f*cked up,” Steve whispered, his voice cracking brokenly and his eyes wetting with pearly tears he would not allow himself to shed. Not here. “I f*cked up big time, and I don’t know what to do, and I just got Bucky back, but he’s going to leave because I am the biggest f*cking asshole the nine realms has ever seen.”

She made a noise low in heart throat that sounded awfully close to a coo.

“Come here big guy.”

He allowed her to rearrange them so his body was draped across the seats along the wall, his head in her lap. He closed his eyes, too worn out from the morning’s emotions to care how pathetic he looked.

She carded her fingers soothingly through his hair, and Steve had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from actually bursting into tears. He spent many nights before the serum sick in bed with his Ma doing the same thing; Bucky, too, whenever he tasked himself with watching over a bedridden Steve (which became more frequent as they aged, since his Ma worked a lot, plus then got sick herself… even when she was home, his friend was adamant that she should rest and leave the job to Bucky).

“I don’t know the details, and we can talk about it more after the mission, but Barnes seems like the forgiving type, at least when it comes to you. And I’m excellent at reading people, so trust me when I say you two will work it out.”

She poked him in the chest repeatedly when he didn’t respond, and ow, f*ck, how could someone so tiny and delicate (not that he would ever say that to her face) be so brutal?

“What’s going on in that handsome head of yours?”

“What if I don’t deserve forgiveness?”

She sighed, returning her fingers to their ministrations, this time with her nails gently stroking his scalp.

“Well, ain’t that the question of the century? In this case, it’s up to Barnes to decide if you deserve forgiveness; your opinion doesn’t count here. It’s his choice if he wants to forgive you or not.”

“I hope he does,” Steve sighed, slowly slipping into slumber.

“The little ones may not be so forgiving, though,” she chuckled quietly. “Clint thought you were about to get mauled by Peter.”

“They’re scarier than Buck’s sisters used to be. But I’m glad he has them, even if I’m gonna need to sleep with one eye open for a while.”

Chapter 2: With A Little Help From My Friends

Chapter Text

Peter was angry - he was so angry he was practically shaking from the effort to contain his rage. Who the f*ck did Steve Rogers think he was to say those awful things about Bucky, who was basically like the coolest dude Peter had met in his relatively short life!? The guy had been through unimaginable horrors, had terrible, atrocious things done to him that any average person (even if they had the serum) wouldn’t survive.

And what did the former Winter Soldier do with his newfound freedom when Hydra fell and his programming was damaged? He came back to fight beside his old pal, not disappearing into the world and becoming the ghost everyone believed him to be (which is what Peter would have done, because holy sh*t, how could someone not crave a quiet, peaceful life after all that?).

Peter briefly met Bucky the first day he showed up at the Tower about a year after the helicarrier incident but was too terrified by the unexpected appearance of the notorious Winter Soldier to actually talk to him; Tony steadfastly refused to let him anywhere near the former-assassin again until he was cleared to stay with Steve.

Along with Wanda, Peter had been helping Steve get used to the modern world, the three of them occasionally having movie nights and discussions about technology or social policies in Steve’s apartment; it was on one of these nights that Peter ‘officially’ met Bucky again.

Wanda had texted him a few minutes before he arrived at the Tower informing him that Bucky would be joining them, and Peter had low key been petrified to see the man again, having heard stories from the other Avengers and Stark Industries staff about how dangerous the Winter Soldier was and how potentially unstable Bucky would be considering his experiences. But when Peter had cautiously entered Steve’s apartment, he immediately realized these fears were unfounded; Bucky was bundled in a giant purple Snuggie, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of Wanda who was attempting to braid his hair into an elaborate up do, but couldn’t, because the brunette kept doing a little happy dance each time he took a bite of a fresh plum, the juice coating his lips like a shiny gloss.

Bucky had noticed Peter before the others and gaped at him like Peter was the fearsome former-assassin in the room, but the man gradually relaxed as the evening went on, eventually asking Peter all kinds of questions about modern technology; before he knew it, Peter was pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with Bucky on the couch, helping him download a few games onto his phone while simultaneously setting up the man’s e-reader. Their friendship blossomed quickly after that day, and Peter recognizes how lucky and fortunate he is to be able to call Bucky Barnes one of his closest friends even with their (extreme) age gap… Bucky was like a cool older brother or something, not that Peter had any of his own brothers to compare the feeling to, but whatever.

The ex-assassin had a quiet streak of kindness that few people seemed to notice; he always helped Peter when he was struggling with his social anxiety, either by shifting the attention away from him or by silently encouraging him with a look or a gesture; he listened to Peter’s rambles when most people tuned him out, asking questions and offering suggestions that showed he was paying attention the entire time; he always offered to help Peter with his schoolwork even though he hadn’t gone to school for like seventy or eighty years… he ran lines with Peter for his Drama class, he reviewed all of Peter’s American History papers, and allowed Peter to interview him for his Journalism assignment on veterans (under a fake name, of course).

He’d seen Bucky push some of his food onto Wanda’s plate, gently encouraging her to eat more since she was now doing intense physical training under the tutelage of Clint and Natasha; he’d seen the Super Soldier quietly help Wanda with her English, whispering a word or phrase to her when she couldn’t find the correct term she was looking for; he bravely allowed Wanda to practice her magic on him, both her telepathy and telekinesis (Bucky found it hilarious that she could make him ‘fly’, though she’s definitely dropped him a few times, something Steve did NOT find amusing, despite Bucky’s quick healing factor and dismissive attitude over her mistakes… partially because he’d been the one to distract the witch his with his comments and mid-air acrobatics in the first place).

Bucky’s let each of them sob onto his shoulder when things got too much; Peter when missing his deceased parents and uncle became too unbearable or when the pressure of being Spider-Man caused him to crack; Wanda when the pain of missing her twin was ripping her apart or when the fear and guilt of what her powers could do became too overwhelming, and she couldn’t leave her bed for more than a few minutes at a time. Sometimes, Bucky didn’t say anything at all, just let himself be a silent pillar of support they could lean on. Other times, he’d offer understanding words of advice or soft words of encouragement, always reminding them that it was important to express their emotions, and they shouldn’t be ashamed for feeling things so strongly - after all, emotions were a large part of being human.

Bucky had a peculiar sense of humor that fit nicely with his and Wanda’s, and Peter always had to keep himself from cooing at the older man when he giggled at his own jokes. He devoured modern media with a gusto that always brought a smile to Peter’s face; Bucky spent a decent amount of time on YouTube, watching everything from music videos, to cat videos, to DIY how-to tutorials, and everything in between. He read every book Peter had recommended and listened to every song Wanda suggested, always texting their group chat with his honest opinion and had recently begun to search for new things on his own to share with them.

He had things to work on, of course, since that type of trauma didn’t disappear overnight. And the way Bucky and Steve seemed to revolve their lives around each other probably wasn’t the healthiest thing… like at all. The former-assassin had drastically improved since he first stumbled into the Tower months ago, and Peter would loathe to see that progress disappear.

Despite everything he’d been through, Bucky was curious, thoughtful, hilarious, and gentle, and yes, Peter knew the older man could kill him in a million different ways, but he didn’t, and his presence made Peter feel safe, something he hadn’t felt with anyone except members of his family and Tony.

So seriously, Steve Rogers could go f*ck himself, because he didn’t know anything.

Peter found himself on Wanda’s floor, both him and Bucky agreeing once that her apartment was the calmest in the Tower, with the excessive amount of plants, copious fuzzy blankets, and abundance of throw pillows strewn everywhere (seriously, everywhere - it was a safety hazard at this point). She kept the lights in her apartment on a relatively dim setting, claiming her magic created its own light if she needed more. (He wasn’t sure if that was the complete truth, but either way, it was always a relief to spend time in Wanda’s apartment for those with enhanced senses.)

Peter carefully settled Bucky on the couch and wrapped him in Wanda’s softest fleece blanket until the ex-assassin looked like nothing more than the world's deadliest burrito. Bucky’s silence pained him on a molecular level, and he began pacing agitatedly across Wanda’s living room while he waited for her to join them, his thoughts alternating between his plans to bring some life back into the Super Soldier on the couch and all the additional mean (but honest) things he would say to the other Super Soldier when he returned.

“Hey.”

Wanda’s voice caused him to jump and flail, clutching his rapidly beating heart as he twisted his body towards the noise, his Spidey senses silent because there wasn’t an actual threat (besides Peter being a threat to himself, per usual).

He really shouldn’t have been surprised to trip over one of the throw pillows on the floor (she had so many, it was kind of bordering an obsession at this point), but Peter found himself grateful for the heart attack as Bucky swiftly unwrapped himself and caught him around the middle.

“How have you lived so long?” Bucky’s voice was quieter than usual - if this was a normal day, he’d be laughing his ass off at Peter’s clumsiness since it was just them and Wanda in the room (Bucky wasn’t a douche who would draw that type of attention to Peter in public, knowing it made the teen deeply uncomfortable). But the tiny quirk of his lips and the quip itself gave Peter some hope this incident wouldn’t be a long term setback of Bucky’s recovery.

“It wouldn’t be the first time I brained myself on the coffee table,” Peter dismissively shrugged, the three of them moving in tandem to pile onto the couch. Wanda ended up in the middle, squashed between the youngest hero and oldest Super Soldier. “I heal quickly.”

Bucky frowned bewilderedly; Peter mentally cheered for another show of emotion, though he didn’t understand how Bucky could be confused, considering the man knew a fair amount about Peter’s enhanced abilities after asking countless questions about his powers over the last few months.

“But it still hurts, and pain is unacceptable according to the mission parameters.”

Uh, what the f*ck did that mean?

“Has the mission changed?” Wanda asked softly, likely knowing what Bucky meant since she spent weeks in his head in a (successful) bid to remove his Hydra programming.

Peter, though, was beyond baffled, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and memories as it attempted to solve the riddle in front of him.

“Somewhat,” Bucky apathetically explained, expression impassive once more; he was still talking, though, so Peter considered that a win (Peter didn’t do well in silence, especially when the reason for said silence was because his friend was internally hurting). “Main mission. Protect Steve Rogers. Sub-mission, protect Wanda Maximoff and Peter Parker. Physical and mental pain are not acceptable within mission parameters.”

Peter had no idea what that meant, but it kind of made him feel warm and tingly knowing he had someone as strong and awesome as Bucky choosing to look out for him. Wanda clearly knew, though, her face crumbling in anguish; Peter remained silent, unsure of what to say and refusing to let his word vomit make the situation worse.

Her quiet sniff broke the unnerving silence of the room. “Oh, James, you are so precious,” she muttered, hiding her face in her hands so they couldn’t see her tears.

Bucky seemed to shake himself, a tiny bit of life coming back to his form in the midst of her distress. His eyes were panicked, and he glanced pleadingly at Peter to do something to help Wanda; it was evident the former-assassin wasn’t sure how to handle her sorrow, which, super weird, because the older man always knew what to do when either of them were upset (and Bucky always took the lead comforting Wanda in the few times she broke down when Peter was there, because, seriously, these things should not be left to Peter - he had no idea what to do when anyone cried, including himself).

Curious, very curious.

Peter’s eyes narrowed calculatingly; some comments Bucky had made and discussions Peter overheard over the last few months were starting to make sense now.

The first puzzling conversation overheard was long before Bucky was released to stay with Steve, occurring when the former-assassin had first arrived to the Tower and was forced to stay by himself in a secure suite on the lower levels (and yes, Peter should not have been there, but he was curious, okay?) -

“I came back to complete the mission,” Bucky said, his voice dull as if he was discussing the weather.

Someone asked what the mission was.

“Protect Steve Rogers. Failure is unacceptable.”

Someone else asked who assigned Bucky this mission. “The Asset assigned itself this mission after its original programming was knocked loose. After the failed mission on the helicarrier, it slowly recovered countless memories of itself and the Mission Target as comrades, not enemies. The Asset concluded its orders to kill Steve Rogers contradicted the lifelong promise it made when it was… not the Asset. That was unacceptable. The Asset reassigned the mission and now works to eliminate all threats to the Mission Target.”

Someone else asked what would happen if he failed. “Mission failure is unacceptable. If that occurs, the result is immediate termination. The Asset exists for the sole purpose of completing its missions successfully; if it cannot complete the mission, the Asset will cease to exist, for it has no purpose.”

(Steve hadn’t handled that one well… Peter is all but certain that the newly reinforced gym equipment in the Tower was due to Steve’s extreme destruction of the facility that day.)

And then a few weeks ago, in Steve’s apartment -

“The old Bucky hates celery, but I don't think it’s that bad. Especially with peanut butter. But only the smooth kind, because chunky? Blech.”

“The Harry Potter movies are great, but the old me wants to read the books. Do you have a copy I could borrow, please?”

“Winter thinks your suit is atrocious and wouldn’t protect you from even a sharp corner on that glass table, let alone a stab wound. Would you be okay if we gave Stark a list of suggestions for improvements?”

(Peter had stupidly thought he meant the season? He felt so dumb now that the pieces were sliding into place).

In addition to the weird comments, Bucky tended to stare into space a lot. And as a daydreamer himself, Peter gets it and doesn’t judge, but it wasn’t the gazing into the distance part that was strange on its own - the odd part of it was that Bucky’s face would go through a myriad of expressions, as if he were arguing or having a discussion with himself. And when Bucky was around other people besides Wanda, Steve, or himself, the former-assassin would glance over his shoulder a lot… and not in the ‘I’m watching my back because I don’t trust any of you’ way, but more as if he was checking to make sure there was someone standing behind him.

“Win - Winter,” Peter stuttered, hoping he guessed right. Bucky blinked, but his expression remained unchanged. “Bucky knows how to comfort Wanda. Can you bring him back, please?”

“I am Bucky,” he asserted, a small pout forming on his face.

Hmm, okay, not what Peter was hoping for, and the impossibly cute pout would not distract him from this… (he took a moment to coo on the inside, because holy sh*t, Bucky was adorable).

Peter tried a different tactic.

“That may be partially true, but the Bucky I know is full of life and compassion, and he’s good at comforting people even when they don’t realize they need it. This guy in front of me is part of him, sure, but he’s not the real Bucky, not anymore.”

His tactic worked, but Peter felt like a dick at the result.

Bucky curled in on himself, making himself impossibly small next to Wanda who shifted to cuddle into his side.

“I’m sorry, Peter. I’m such a mess. I’m so sorry, I’ll understand if you don’t want to hang around me anymore, but please don’t tell anyone. I have full control, I swear. It’s just…” he chewed on his bottom lip.

“It’s easier to put a mask on sometimes?” Wanda helpfully filled in, like Bucky had for her so many times before.

“Exactly. Especially a familiar one. It helps me… process everything when things are too much.”

Peter was going to kill Captain America, like full out murder with stabby things and death. Lots of death.

“It’s fine, Bucky,” he assured the man, trying to make eye contact, but Bucky’s gray eyes were firmly lowered to the floor. “I’m not upset, and I trust you. Promise.”

Bucky must have sensed Peter was holding back. “You can ask whatever you want, Pete, I ain’t gonna get offended.”

Peter took a moment to properly word his questions, not wanting to overstep during such a delicate moment. “How does it work? Are they just voices in your head that tell you things?”

“Yeah, kind of. Like I said, I have full control, but I think of us as three separate people; past-Bucky who was the original but ended when he fell of the train, the Asset, also called Winter cuz that’s nicer sounding, who lived between past-Bucky’s death and Steve breaking some of his programming on the helicarrier, and me, who is a mix of those and the experiences I’ve had since.”

Peter whistled, imagining what dealing with that every day must be like - Peter’s head was jumbled and messy almost all the time, and there was only one of him in there. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have other people talking back to him in his thoughts non-stop, but it kind of made sense in a way in Bucky’s case, considering everything he’d experienced. “Sounds chaotic. Is it non-stop chatting in your head all the time?”

Bucky giggled, and Peter felt like he could literally see him brightening, his emotionless mask cracking piece by piece. “Nah, thank god. It’s more like they’ll make comments sometimes when things are happening around us or if I need help, either with a memory or a skill, they’ll assist where they can, and sometimes we simply chat back and forth. But umm…”

“It’s okay,” Wanda gently encouraged when Bucky trailed off, clearly warring with himself if he should say more. “We don’t judge, but if you don’t want to tell us, then that is okay, too.”

Bucky bit his lip, hesitating, but resolutely nodded to himself before sitting up straighter. “I don’t like hiding it from you guys, but I know it also makes me sound crazy… they aren’t just voices in my head anymore.”

The two teens shared a quick ‘oh sh*t’ glance.

“That’s new…” Wanda said, her expression worried

“No, no, no,” Bucky sputtered, frantically waving his hands and accidentally jostling Wanda, the girl now sitting up as well. “Trust me, I know they aren’t really there, I do. And I know it sounds crazy, but ever since the first night I got released to Steve’s, they show up sometimes, always as a pair. Usually when I’m alone or when I’m around anyone who isn’t you two or Steve. I guess… it’s a coping mechanism, probably, and I know it’s f*cking weird, I do.”

“But…”

Bucky sighed, his cheeks flushing pink. “It’s nice, if we’re all bein’ honest here. They watch my back when I’m around people I don’t trust, and when I’m by myself, I have someone to share stuff with… and they’re both kinda f*ckin’ funny in their own ways.”

“The Winter Soldier is… funny?” Peter asked skeptically, his mind unable to comprehend such a ridiculous claim.

“A real stand-up comedian,” Bucky grinned, and the sight of his smile caused one to form on Peter’s face as well. “You should have heard his commentary on that sparkly vampire movie series you forced me to suffer through the other day.”

Wanda raised a judging eyebrow at Peter. “You made him watch Twilight? All of them?”

Peter shrugged, only slightly embarrassed. “Well I wanted him to see the first one at least, but he looked so amused that we just kept going… now I know why.”

Peter turned towards Bucky and attempted to steer the conversation away from one of his guilty pleasures (the movies were awful, he knew that, but that’s what made them so good!). “I guess you’ll never get lonely, at least.”

Wanda snorted at Peter’s comment, and Bucky gently dried the tear tracks on her cheeks with his sleeve.

“That’s gross, James, but thank you.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her hair. “Anything for the baby witch.”

Peter cackled as Wanda groaned and smacked each of them in the chest. “I will destroy each of you if you ever call me that again.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, the last remnants of the Soldier fading away as he uncurled himself and stood up. “You can murder me later, but I’ve made a decision. Steve was right -“

“He absolutely was not!”

“James, no, he was out of line.”

“I have never heard anything so untrue in my entire life, and I go to a prestigious science school with a Flat Earther -“

“He should not have said those things.”

“When I get my hands on his giant neck, I swear -“

“We will most certainly be having words when he gets back.”

“And I will bring the knives and other stabby things.”

Bucky held up a hand to stop them; his ears reddened at the tops and his cheeks flushed, clearly flustered by their indignation on his behalf.

“Ok one, Peter… no murder, please. And I appreciate you both sticking up for me, truly more than you will ever know, but he is right - I’m barely a functioning person at all, more like a shadow of who I used to be. And I’m not naïve enough to think I’ll ever be the exact same as I was before Hydra, but I need to do something with my life. I don’t want to be a ghost anymore, just haunting around the Tower all day. I’m not sure who I am right now, but I want to be someone again if that makes sense. Someone real, and someone good.”

The “someone Steve can rely on and be proud of” went without words.

Peter and Wanda shared another quick glance, and Peter sighed deeply when she gave a slight nod. They stood up from the couch together, standing shoulder to shoulder in front of Bucky.

“Right, okay. First, I think you need to give yourself a little bit more credit, James, because you are definitely doing better than you seem to think.”

“Or others have recently implied,” Peter growled, feeling petty.

“But,” Wanda shot Peter a dark look. “We are with you.”

“Definitely,” Peter nodded.

Bucky seemed surprised by their support, and jeez, really, this guy needed to have a bit more faith in them. Peter would make it his mission to show the Super Soldier just how much he meant to them and how much he deserved to have, because, seriously, f*ck Hydra (and Steve, and no, Peter was not letting go of his anger any time soon).

Tossing an arm around each of their shoulders and briefly squeezing each of them as a silent ‘thank you’, Bucky guided them towards the elevator.

“What’s first, James?” Wanda bracingly asked. “I can tell you have a plan.”

“My horoscope said today would be the perfect day for an adventure.” Bucky looked down at himself, taking in his rumpled outfit and lack of shoes. “But first, I need to change.”

Peter screamed internally, because… f*ck, that statement didn’t bode well for the rest of their day - was Bucky even allowed out of the Tower? Or like, if he was, did he need a real adult to accompany him? (he apologized to Wanda internally, since the nineteen year old was legally an adult, but in the eyes of the Avengers, she was generally lumped into ‘kid’ status along with himself).

And who actually read their horoscopes? Peter was going to write a strongly worded letter to the person who wrote Bucky’s horoscope for today, damn them.

Bucky apparently didn’t do anything half assed when he made a decision.

Peter squinted into the mid-morning sun, the Tower’s entrance at his back, and the hectic traffic of the city in front of him, unsure what exactly the plan was now that they’d made it outside. Bucky had changed into a pair of form fitting dark-wash jeans, with his standard long-sleeved black shirt, black boots, and his long hair pulled into a loose yet fashionable bun on the top of his head, courtesy of Wanda. He borrowed Steve’s aviator sunglasses, not that he really needed them since his metal arm was camouflaged by some type of spy tech Natasha had given him for “emergencies” - it was weird to see the older man with two flesh arms, even though his long-sleeves covered everything except his hands.

“Shall we follow your lead, James?” Wanda asked, linking her left arm with Bucky’s and using her right hand to grab Peter’s hand, assuring neither of them got separated from the others in the hustle and bustle of the New York sidewalks.

They couldn’t see his eyes with the glasses, but Bucky hadn’t moved an inch since they stepped outside, and Peter wondered if he was about to call the whole thing off (Peter had been genuinely surprised when they made it out the front doors with no one angrily calling them back… Bucky wasn’t a prisoner, per se, but he also hadn’t left the Tower before now, either by himself or with Steve).

“Yes. Okay. Right. First things first, we need money,” Bucky stated; he turned to the left and began speedily walking down the sidewalk.

“Didn’t…didn’t Steve give you a debit card when you first got set up to stay with him?” Wanda questioned, struggling to keep up with his quick pace (Peter was thankful she had the foresight to connect the three of them together, because dear lord, Bucky had ridiculously long legs compared to the two of them). The sidewalks were blessedly bare since most people were at work already, but Peter occasionally had to walk behind the other two so someone could pass by; Wanda maintained a tight grip on his hand, an act he greatly appreciated…this whole experience was making him unbearably nervous, and they’d barely left the Tower.

He wholeheartedly blamed Steve for his predicament.

“I’m an adult, Wanda, I wouldn’t be a very functional person if I was mooching off him all the time,” he haughtily replied, sticking his tongue out at Wanda when she laughed loudly in return, likely at his uncharacteristically snooty tone more so than his words.

“Ah, yes, my mistake, please forgive me.”

Peter squinted at Bucky’s muscular back, allowing an older lady to pass by. “Does… does Steve know this?”

He watched Bucky’s shoulders tense, and the Super Soldier twisted around to give both of them an awkward smile. “Nope, so let’s keep it between us, yeah? There are some things he doesn’t need to know for his own peace of mind.”

Peter caught Wanda’s eye when Bucky turned back around, silently trying to ask if she had any idea where he would suddenly get money from. He winced when she weakly shrugged, and both of them almost tumbled over each other when Bucky abruptly stopped at a small, quaint café.

“Okay, you two are going to wait here and get something to eat, because I’m already tired of hearing Peter’s stomach growl. I will be back in,” he checked his watch, “twenty-three minutes with everything we need. And then we’re going shopping, yay, try to look a little more excited, Peter, sheesh, this is an adventure.”

“I don’t think we should split up!” Peter quietly whined, tugging nervously on the sleeve of Bucky’s right arm.

He didn’t want to let Bucky out of his sight for even a moment, especially when it was the first time the man had been outside in all the months he’d been staying at the Tower. What if something happened to him?! Peter loathed Steve with every fiber of his being at the moment, sure, but he would literally rather throw himself in front of a moving train that was on fire and traveling at the speed of light than return home to tell Captain America he lost his childhood best friend.

Yikes. Talk about a death wish.

Bucky placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I can look after myself, ya know, and I know you two can look after each other for twenty-three minutes. I was a ghost for decades, and no one found me after my programming broke until I turned myself in.”

“That’s not precisely how I recall it happening,” Wanda joked, unlooping her arm from Bucky’s and betraying Peter by dragging him towards the café door. “We’ll get you something, too, and meet you outside at these tables, yes?”

“You’re a doll,” he winked before twisting around and confidently striding off. Peter frowned, watching Bucky go, an uneasy feeling in his gut.

Wanda politely held the door open, rudely shoving him inside when he didn’t move.

“Wanda!” he whispered fiercely, allowing her to guide him to the side of the doorway so they didn’t block the entrance. “This is a terrible, terrible idea. Bad things happen when people split up, have you ever seen a horror movie? This is when the horror part kicks in, and the bad guy goes for the lone wolf, which is Bucky in this situation, in case you missed that part where he’s alone.”

“Of course it is a bad idea to split up,” she easily agreed, nodding her head while peering around the café. “But he was waiting at the crosswalk to make sure we went in.”

He squinted at her, trying to make sense of what the hell was happening here. “Then why did you agree?”

He was confused. Again, ugh.

Wanda smiled politely at the barista manning the counter before turning back to Peter and giving him an exasperated look. “Because it’s his choice to go off on his own for a bit, and I respect that. Just as he will need to respect our choice to follow, obviously.”

“Oh,” he smiled widely, excited by the idea (logically he knew they wouldn’t be able to pull one over the World's Best Assassin/Spy who likely would spot them a mile away, but a guy could dream). “I’ve always wanted to be a spy.”

She rudely flicked his forehead.

“Ouch,” he groaned, rubbing the tender spot. “What was that for?”

“Get those silly ideas out of your head. There’s no spy work, I know exactly where he’s going, and we need to get moving.”

Damn.

Wanda convinced a barista to let them use the back door (“I asked nicely, Peter, you were there. There was no convincing”), and they silently made their way through a bunch of back alleys that had Peter wrinkling his nose in disgust at the atrocious smell.

“Thought you hung out in alleys often, Parker?” she smirked slyly. “You are being such a baby over the stench.”

“I’ve scoped out all the less horrific smelling alleys in Queens, thank you,” he replied, mimicking Bucky’s earlier haughty tone. “Because I am a man of refined tastes.”

“Right,” she snickered, rolling her eyes.

Jeez, everyone was a critic.

They crept down another alleyway, Peter waving happily at the two cats he saw perched on a fire escape, smiling widely when they meowed softly back.

“So…how do you feel about the whole ‘I-See-Dead-People’ thing Bucky has going on?” he asked, genuinely wondering what her take on the whole situation was; Peter, honestly, wasn’t really sure how he felt about it. The hearing voices part didn’t seem as bad as actually seeing aspirations of Bucky’s former selves, but in reality, was it that much different?

Wanda bit her lip, tilting her head in thought. “I think…well, frankly, I don’t know what to think. A part of me thinks it’s bad and a terrible sign, but I also think James has been through so many difficult things and lived such an intense life compared to a ‘normal’ person who’s experienced something traumatic, and we can’t assume he will be able to work through his trauma the way other people would. And, honestly, I knew he could talk to them, but I had no idea he actually saw his first past-self and the Winter Soldier.”

Peter shook his head. “Neither did I, to both actually, and it sounds like he spends a good deal of time talking or hanging out with them.”

She laughed, waiting until a couple moved out of earshot from them before speaking again. “I think that was the part that got me - I can’t even imagine the types of things the Winter Soldier would complain about for James to find him hilarious.”

“He said my old suit was atrocious,” Peter admitted, embarrassed. “I didn’t even question it when Bucky said, ‘Winter thinks’, and just took his suggestions to Mr. Stark.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” she commented, lightly bumping her shoulder into his. “Why would you question that? James told us about them when he was ready, so knowing in advance would not have done anyone any favors. I say we keep an eye on it but trust James when he says he’s fine with having them around. Between you and me… I think he will always hear them and his brain is just wired that way now, but the visual part definitely seems like a coping mechanism.”

“I don’t understand how seeing them would make life easier.” Peter hopped over a giant puddle, turning to offer his hand to Wanda but smiling when he noticed she was using her magic to discreetly propel herself over the water. “Seems like a challenge to talk to them in his head and also pay attention to what’s going on around you.”

“Well, it could help him, for a couple of reasons. When he’s around other people, they watch his back, and while I’m not sure how far they can go away from him, I’d imagine Winter is somewhat of an extension of his assassin training and enhanced senses.”

Peter’s brows furrowed as he thought how that would work. “Like, if I had a knife in my pocket and was fiddling with it, Winter would notice and report back to Bucky?”

She nodded. “This is all speculation, of course, I genuinely do not know much more than you do. But I have a suspicion James does not like being alone anymore, so they keep him company when Steve’s busy.”

“I mean… it’s not like he’s bored when he’s alone,” Peter noted nonjudgmentally, just trying to understand. “He has so much to catch up on and actually makes the effort to do so, unlike others.” (like Steve f*cking Rogers)

“True, but I think his own thoughts, excluding his past-self and Winter, are not always the kindest to him. And I think when he’s alone, it gets harder to tune out.”

Peter winced, familiar with his own pessimistic thoughts and how pressing they became when he was by himself, excluding his time spent patrolling the streets which was cathartic. “I can understand that.”

“And,” Wanda continued, shooting him a playful glare. “I would like to remind you that James and Steve will eventually make up, so while I fully understand and share your anger, keep that fact in mind, yeah?”

“Ugh. I know you’re right, but just… ugh! He was so f*cking wrong for that, and I just expected better, you know? I’m disappointed, I guess, which seems silly…but yeah.”

She nodded. “I think Steve’s issues are more complex than we realize, but I know exactly what you mean.”

They continued walking at a swift pace, and while it felt like it’d been at least half an hour since they left the café, a quick check to his phone told Peter it had been less than ten minutes.

“Can you tell me where we’re going?” Peter asked after what felt like the hundredth alley. Thankfully, the streets were relatively empty besides the occasional person or small group of people, since they looked suspicious as f*ck creeping down all these alleys and side streets.

“When I was in his memories,” Wanda started, her pace slowing as she searched for a familiar landmark, “trying to break the programming, I tried to focus on Winter’s original memories. But to get to those, I had to dig through a lot during each session... I’ve seen some of the more recent ones, including this house that he shared with some other guy, and the many, many paths James took to get there while running errands and scoping out the area.”

Peter gasped, flailing his arms at her words, legitimately shocked. He’d honestly never questioned where Bucky was before randomly showing up at the Tower about a year after he pulled Steve from the river, and Bucky never volunteered the information.

“What!?”

“Keep your voice down!” she shushed him. They pressed their backs against a brick wall, and Wanda silently sent a red haze of magic out ahead to do… well, whatever she needed it to do. “You know his hearing is really good, and we are close to where I believe he has gone.”

“Okay,” he placatingly whispered, pausing momentarily before continuing his interrogation. “Please tell me more about this other dude. Was he another Hydra Super Soldier? Were they roommates? Or like… together together?”

Peter would be scandalized if she said yes to his last question, not because he had any problem with a guy dating another guy (he wasn’t a hypocrite, okay), but if Bucky was going to have a romantic relationship with any male…well, he assumed it would be Steve, even though Steve is supposedly straight. But like if everyone’s being honest… is Steve Rogers really one hundred percent straight, at least when Bucky Barnes was in the picture? Because there have been some instances when... let’s just say, Peter had questions.

“Like I said, I didn’t see much of the recent stuff. I don’t know who he was or where he is now, but James trusts him. I think they stayed in this house together for a while.”

Peter frowned, mulling over this new information. “Huh. So Bucky has a sugar daddy that isn’t Steve and isn’t actually planning to rob a bank like I first thought.”

Wanda softly giggled. “Seems like it. Alright, let’s go, we’ll stick to the perimeter, and remember, stay quiet, Peter.”

They slipped out of the alley and slowly approached a row of almost identical brownstones (how Wanda could tell these apart from any other brownstones in New York, Peter had no clue), Wanda guiding him towards one on the very end. The building appeared to be in good condition, though somewhat old if the interwoven vines crawling up the side were any indication.

“We can wait on the side,” she whispered, walking off towards the corner of the building.

Before Peter could respond, his Spidey senses tingled and he gripped her hand, sprinting up the steps to the front door, towing a surprised Wanda behind him.

“Can you open it?” he hurriedly asked, already planning to kick it down if need be or bust out a window; he peaked over at the living room window and saw it was made from thick, reinforced glass. He also mentally noted how intricate the lock system was; whoever lived here took their security very seriously.

“Of course,” she nodded, trusting his judgment and keeping her questions at bay for now. Her magic began to seep into the lock right as they heard a panicked shout and the sound of something heavy falling to the floor.

“f*ck,” Peter growled, immensely relieved when the door clicked open.

They charged in, silent but purposeful, their bodies tense and alert for any threats while their imaginations ran wild at what might await them inside.

Scanning the rooms around him, Peter immediately noticed the lack of personal touches; the living room was sparsely furnished, but the couch, recliner, and giant television were all luxurious and brand new looking. There were no pictures or decorations anywhere he could see, the walls completely bare and making it impossible to determine who, or how many people, lived here.

“First floor is clear,” Wanda reported, red tendrils of magic floating across the floor. “Second floor or basem*nt?”

He didn’t answer, because they both knew it was the creepy basem*nt.

It was always the creepy basem*nt.

“Ladies first,” she quipped, cutting in front of him and noiselessly beginning her descent down the long straight staircase. Peter thought she must be using her magic to float mere centimeters above the steps, because even with his enhanced hearing, he couldn’t hear her move.

He silently crept down the long staircase behind Wanda until he heard her shout of “James!” and instead vaulted over the railing, dropping more than ten feet to the ground below and landing with a thunk.

There were two people in the room, not including Wanda and himself - one raven haired man, who upon closer inspection looked maybe a year or two older than Wanda at most, the thick beard on his face making him appear older at first glance. But holy hell, this dude could give Steve a run for his money in terms of sheer size and bulk. Peter swore this guy’s muscles had muscles, and although his shirt fit him better than anything Peter had ever seen Steve wear, it was clear he had exceptionally broad shoulders (though he appeared to be a few inches shorter than Steve and Bucky, but still taller than Peter).

The other person was Bucky, the Super Soldier unconscious on the leather futon, his figure whole and seemingly unharmed, chest steadily moving up and down. But Peter could see Bucky’s metal hand resting on his stomach, no longer disguised to look like his flesh arm.

Something strange pressed against Peter’s senses, and he inhaled deeply, frowning when he smelt something slightly burnt. When he saw a rectangular plastic device in the hands of the mystery dude who Wanda had pinned to the wall with her magic, he realized what must have happened - this guy tased Bucky with the device, electrocuting the man long enough or at such a high voltage that it rendered him unconscious.

Peter angrily clenched his fists to keep himself from throwing a nearby chair across the room at the pinned man.

“I take it this isn’t the guy from his memories?” Peter questioned, already guessing the answer. He made his way closer to the two, standing tensely at Wanda’s side.

“No,” she confirmed, her steely gaze trained on the man. “The other guy looked similar, but he was much smaller… more petite.”

“You are here for the Asset,” the man growled, struggling in Wanda’s magical grip, his voice rough as if it didn’t get used often. “You cannot have him, for he is not yours to have, witch.”

“Well he certainly isn’t yours!” Wanda shrilly shot back, Peter nodding next to her. “And he’s coming with us whether you like it or not.”

The man’s struggling increased, and Peter could see his own surprise matched on Wanda’s face. They shared a quick look - this guy was definitely enhanced, too, and they needed another solution before Wanda lost complete control of him, something that had never happened previously (though she hadn’t trained with Bucky like this before, Steve hadn’t been able to shake her magical grip despite putting all his effort into it).

Peter sank into a fighting stance, preparing himself to use his web shooters. He hated that he would be revealing his identity to this guy, but he knew Wanda didn’t like to use her telepathy as a weapon, except as a last and final resort; his secret identity as Spider-Man wasn’t important in the face of Wanda going against her moral compass to protect Bucky from harm.

“You are nothing but MONSTERS!” the man roared, and wow, pot meet kettle…why were all the bad guys such hypocrites? “You and the ones before you have done nothing but torture this man for decades, making him commit terrible crimes against his will and then frying his brain after so he wouldn’t remember anything except what you needed him to remember. He is a PERSON, and he is not your f*cking property, and I will kill every single f*cking one of you, so f*cking help me, you will NOT take him back.”

Wait… what?

Before Peter or Wanda could react, the huge man ripped himself from the wall, falling into a low crouch at its base. His eyes darted calculatingly between the two of them, likely trying to decide who to attack first.

Fortunately, Bucky decided this was the perfect time to wake up, a small grunt of pain escaping his lips as he shakily sat up. All three immediately rushed towards him, their previous argument momentarily forgotten.

“Winter!”

“Bucky!”

“James!”

Wanda and Peter glared at the other guy; he glared just as intensely back.

“Ow,” Bucky pouted, running his right hand through his now messy hair. He stared at the metal of his left hand, rotating it around in front of his face with an adorably bewildered expression. He glanced up, seeing the tense side eyes they were giving each other, and winced. “Oh look, the gang's all here, hello.”

“You know this jerk?!”

“You know these experiments?!”

“Um, excuse me, you lumberjack lookin’ bitch,” Peter turned, pointing an accusing finger at the stranger who's maybe not a stranger after all, at least to Bucky. “Who are you calling an experiment?”

The guy held his hands up defensively. “I saw you jump down from the top steps and walk it off like it was nothing. You might be scrawny, but I know what someone with enhanced abilities can do.” They all glanced at Bucky who was staring off into space with a frown, likely talking internally with his other selves. “I assumed you were with Hydra.”

“We assumed you were Hydra,” Wanda added as a peace offering, stepping on Peter’s foot to keep him from telling this dude where he could shove his assumptions.

And Peter was not scrawny, thank you very much; he was just thin-boned and lean.

“I used to be,” the guy admitted, frowning down at the floor.

“Me too,” Wanda calmly said, keeping her head held high.

“Hey, me too! We can make a club,” Bucky giggled, evidently woozy from the extreme tasering. “Sorry, Peter, I’ll find something else you can join.”

The guy raised a curious eyebrow at Peter, but thankfully let the comment go. Peter was self-aware enough to admit he wasn’t the best at coming up with lies, especially on the spot... although saying he got bit by a radioactive-something-that-was-not-a-spider could have worked.

“Ugh, dude, I am so sorry, I thought you were an intruder, like the Hydra kind, and the lack of metal arm part threw me off when I finally saw your face,” the still-nameless guy apologized to Bucky, shifting anxiously while frowning down at the former-assassin. “And, to be fair, you disappeared for months one day when you were supposed to be doing ‘very easy recon’ so I kinda thought you were dead. Or worse, captured.”

They all shivered at the word ‘captured’… except Bucky who was still fixated on his metal arm, glaring down at it with a disappointed pout.

The raven haired man took a seat next to the Super Soldier on the futon, and to Peter’s shock (and the other guy’s as well), Bucky leaned over, carefully placed his hands on the guy’s cheeks, and then smushed them together. “I’m sorry, pal, I am the f*ckin worst, ya know? Should have sent a postcard or something.” Squish squish… Peter bit his fist to keep from laughing at the forced fish face, the other guy blinking confusedly but allowing Bucky to finish his explanation.

“I got captured but like… by nicer people ya know? It wasn’t too bad, better clothes than Hydra or prison, not that I’ve been to prison, so maybe prison would be even better, hmmm, wow I should investigate that. Also, much better sleeping arrangements than the Army, and there weren’t any trenches, those were the worst during the war. But oh! OHH! Oh my gosh, Steve was there, can you believe it buddy, do you remember Stevie? He looks different now, so maybe you don’t remember him, but like, he is just… whoa. Ya know?”

The guy snorted, grabbed Bucky’s hands with his larger ones and tugged them away from his face, his skin flushed red from either the abuse to his cheeks or embarrassment. “How could I forget the great Captain America, Hydra’s number one enemy?”

“f*ck Hydra!” Bucky vehemently exclaimed, before breaking out into unruly giggles, hunching over and clutching his stomach. “Stevie doesn’t like cuss words anymore, which is funny, because he knew more cuss words than anyone on the block when he was little, and he was certainly not afraid to use them, no sir, wielded them like a weapon he did. Can’t even begin to tell you how many people he made cry from one sharp sentence alone. It was like, stab stab stab, then TEARS. f*cking legendary, no wonder why they gave him the serum… which was dumb of him to accept, remind me later to get mad about that, please, it’s been a few decades since I’ve gotten to properly scream at him for being reckless, and wow, I’ve got a lot to yell about these days. Did I tell you he’s buff now? It’s… wow. He could throw me off the Tower, and I’d say thank you.”

“Holy f*ck, is he gonna be okay?” Peter awkwardly hissed, his eyes wide as he watched Bucky go back to fiddling with his hair, the former-assassin using his polished metal hand like a mirror. “We can’t bring him home like this, we’d get murdered the second he opened his mouth.”

“Yeahhhh, the taser has enough of a charge to take down an enhanced, but he should bounce back in no time,” the guy answered, chewing on his lip and resolutely not looking towards Peter or Wanda.

“Should?” Peter growled, hands on his hips.

“He uh,” the guy looked around meekly, and then that’s when Peter saw the open air vent at the top of the high basem*nt wall. “He might have fallen down pretty far seeing as he was unconscious and all.”

“Do you think I’m pretty?” Bucky interrupted, voice dejected and lips set back into a pout. He dropped his metal hand back into his lap so he could look at them all, eyes wide and troubled. “Stevie said once I was more beautiful than any dame, but he doesn’t say that no more. Prolly cuz this arm is ugly and all the scars.” He waved the offending arm in the air and unconsciously traced his flesh hand over the left side of his chest, where Peter assumed he had scars from the arm “surgery.”

Oh my god, Peter was going to murder Captain America. Straight up death, no cap. How dare he not regularly tell his traumatized best friend how amazing and beautiful he was?! Bucky deserved constant praise because he was nice, and kind, and perfect, and so many other wonderful words that Steve Rogers evidently was not.

“I’m sure he still thinks that,” Wanda answered placatingly, face amused despite what were, in Peter’s opinion, increasingly dire circ*mstances, seeing as how Bucky’s eyes had a suspiciously wet sheen to them.

“You are one beautiful dude,” Peter added truthfully, because he was a good bro, and Bucky was honestly good looking, metal arm, scars, and everything in between.

“Agreed,” Bucky’s random friend said. “Here, let me help.”

The guy started expertly pulling Bucky’s wavy hair back up into a secure bun at the top of his head, the Super Soldier sitting there serenely as if this was a situation he’d been in many times prior to today. And hell, maybe he had… Peter regretted not asking more questions about where Bucky had been prior to arriving at the Tower.

“Oh! I’m so rude, please forgive me for my lack of manners.” Bucky’s smile was huge, and damn, how could anyone ever be upset with this dude? “This is my friend, Caleb. First friend since the 1940’s, can you believe it?”

“Hi, Caleb,” Wanda greeted because she’s nice. Peter gave a grunt of acknowledgement.

Bucky didn’t say anything else besides that, instead going back to using his metal hand as a mirror, moving it every which way to get the best lighting.

“I’m Wanda, and this is Peter.”

“It’s nice to meet you, friends of Winter,” Caleb inclined his head in greeting.

Peter internally snorted - was this dude pretentious or just trying to emulate Thor?

“Oh!” Bucky exclaimed without looking at any of them, eyes still trained intensely on his reflection in his hand. “They aren’t my friends.”

Well. Damn. Okay that hurt, not gonna lie.

He shared an uncomfortable look with Wanda, shifting uneasily where he stood.

They anxiously watched Bucky slowly stand from the couch, hands out for balance like a toddler learning to walk. Caleb rose from his seat as well, sticking close to the older man to catch him if he fell.

As they began exiting the room behind Bucky, Peter distractedly noted how this room seemed more personal than any other part of the house he’d seen so far. It seemed to function as some sort of lounge room/tech spy room going by the large futon and vast amount of different monitors on a long desk against the side wall, which, okay, slightly suspicious if Peter was being honest. The walls were still bare, though, which Peter found odd; did this dude have something against decorations? Was he lazy? Was this not really his house?

Bucky seemed shaky at first, his steps growing steadier the longer he was upright. “They’re my siblings. Baby Witch and the Itsy Bitsy Spider. And me, the Little Soldier. Isn’t that cute?” He growled the last part, daring them to disagree with him. “We’re cute.”

“So cute,” Caleb easily agreed, his tone amused.

Wanda entwined her fingers with Peter’s as they followed behind the two, both silently preening a bit after Bucky’s declaration (even though they were aware his mind was a bit more scrambled than usual).

“I want my siblings to meet their nephew!” Bucky shouted, head facing forward and taking each step carefully like a man who had too many beers with his buddies would.

Peter knew his face was doing something weird and he couldn’t blame it; he decided he definitely heard him wrong, he was sure of it.

“Where is my child?” Bucky hissed, pausing on a step midway up the long staircase to glare down at Caleb.

Wanda’s secure grip on his hand was the only thing that prevented him from tripping up the stairs, her magic likely helping as well, but Peter was too distracted by having his mind blown to pieces to notice.

“He’s upstairs, but I gotta warn you. You’re a grandparent now.”

The sound Peter let out sounded more like a dying goat than something coming from a human.

“Oh my god, my son!” Bucky squealed, racing up the remaining stairs with grace (thank god) before crashing loudly into the main house, sounding more like a rampaging buffalo than his usual soundless self.

“What the f*ck, Wanda?!” he hissed at the girl in front of him, waving their joined hands around distressingly.

She shrugged, unconcerned, but tore her hand from his grip. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

“What the f*ck, Caleb!” he hissed instead, because ‘I’m sure it’s fine’ is not a satisfactory answer in this instance. Or like ever.

“You’ll see,” he chuckled, turning to shoot a teasing wink at Peter, which definitely did not make him feel flustered. “I’m not going to ruin your first meeting with your nephew.”

They reached the first floor and found no sign of the Super Soldier or his mysterious family.

“They are probably in the library,” Caleb assumed, leading the two of them up to the second floor.

The walls of the second floor hallway were just as bare as the first floor, and it suddenly reminded Peter of Steve’s apartment; it was as if these two men were unable, or unwilling, to put down roots in their current locations. He decided he would do everything in his power to help Bucky create a permanent home wherever he chose to settle down, even if he ended up leaving the Tower and came back to live with Caleb… and his son? Oh god, and his grandkids.

Peter forgot more often than not, while Bucky may appear to be in his mid-twenties, he was actually in the upper nineties. If anything, he should have great-grandkids at this point.

Be normal, Parker, you can meet Bucky’s family, just don’t think too hard on where they came from.

Oh, f*ck, there were so many terrible possibilities when Hydra was involved.

Did Steve know? He assumed not since Bucky had been exceptionally mum on his year long disappearance after the helicarrier incident. Plus, Steve didn’t seem the type to support absent parenthood, but perhaps he knew nothing about the man’s true feelings as he once thought.

“Just through here,” Caleb remarked quietly, and Peter reached out to grab Wanda’s hand this time. She gave him a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes, and they braced themselves before walking into the room.

Peter almost melted into the floor at the sight that greeted him; Wanda cooed from the doorway, hands pressed to her cheeks in surprise, and he would totally never let her live that down.

Sitting cross-legged on the cushioned seat in front of the huge bay window was Hydra’s (former) deadliest brainwashed Super Soldier assassin, a gorgeous white cat purring contently in his lap and three multicolor kittens perched delicately on his body; one on each shoulder and the bravest one making a home for itself in his bun.

“This is my son, Grant,” Bucky introduced, pointing to the large white cat who meowed at the newcomers welcomingly (Peter’s not sure if the cat is purebred, but it looked like a Maine Coon if he remembered the breed name correctly), his voice low so as not to disturb his feline family. Besides his hand petting the cat in his lap, his body remained statuesque.

Grant? That sounded familiar.

“Oh my god,” he whispered to Caleb, tugging on the man’s sleeve when it clicked; Wanda left the two of them in the doorway, joining Bucky who happily handed her a kitten from his shoulder. “Please tell me he just made that up.”

“Nope,” Caleb snickered, his entire appearance brightening and posture relaxing. “It’s on the collar.”

Peter squinted at him, calculating. “Do you get the reference?”

“Of course,” he rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest, and Peter refused to notice how the fabric of Caleb’s shirt now pulled across muscular frame in a very flattering way. “Hydra hates Captain America, I’m pretty sure it’s part of their founding principles at this point. I know way too much about that dude between them and Winter.”

“His name is Bucky,” Peter admonished in response, because he was really feeling petty today, damn.

Caleb casually shrugged, and they watched the remaining kitten on Bucky’s shoulder start to nibble on his ear, the man giggling and flinching in surprise, still careful enough to not jostle any of the felines too much. “If he wants me to use that name, then I will switch if he asks. But last time I saw him, he didn’t know who he wanted to be, so ‘Winter’ was just easier.”

“How do you know him?” Peter questioned, frowning. “I don’t understand, except you met because of Hydra.”

Caleb sighed, expression closing off. “Let’s go downstairs, and we can all have story time because I have some questions of my own. Plus, getting some food into him should help fix the whole… brain thing.”

They both cringed; poor Bucky could never catch a break.

“Although,” Caleb tapped a finger to his chin, contemplating the scene. “This,” he waved a hand at Bucky and his cats, “is actually pretty normal, though it was just him and Grant before. Grant came home one day with the three kittens behind him, maybe a month after Winter left. But before that, Winter would spend hours up here each day, talking with the cat and toting it around like his child.”

“But he is not normally so,” Peter waved his own hand this time, trying to find the words, “child like? Cute? Like he’s cute in general, but normally less so? Ugh, I don’t know, man, it’s just strange.”

Caleb laughed. “No, that cutesy part is weird, I agree. But for months, he hardly said more than a few words at a time, his words always spoken for a specific purpose, never to converse. The first time I heard him speak more than two, full, regular sentences, he was talking to this sickly, scraggly alley cat he found when taking the trash out.”

Caleb pointed a thick finger towards Grant, who had stood up to place his front paws on Bucky’s chest to look the Super Soldier in the eye. Bucky was alternating between giving him forehead kisses and scratches under the chin, voice soft but chirpy as nonsensical praises and terms of endearment fell from his lips.

“He started speaking more as we nursed Grant back to health. It was,” Caleb paused, weighing his words carefully and frowning down at Peter, “I don’t really believe in miracles, but if I did, I’d say his drastic improvement was a miracle.”

A pained noise escaped Peter. “He deserves to have nice things, even if he doesn’t believe it.”

“Agreed,” Caleb nodded, before standing tall and looking towards Bucky. “Winter.”

Bucky co*cked his head in acknowledgement at Caleb’s voice, silent but paying attention, his hands momentarily pausing in their petting until Grant nibbled his finger and he continued on.

“Come downstairs for lunch. And rest.”

“Affirmative.”

Wanda already had one tuxedo kitten tucked into her chest, and she tugged the only all white kitten off Bucky’s bun, the animal’s tiny, but sharp claws pulling some strands loose from the up-do. Peter stepped forward to gently pluck the other tuxedo-colored kitten off Bucky’s shoulder, cradling it to his chest like the precious cargo it was, allowing Bucky to swiftly stand up, posture tall and straight with Grant perched comfortably on the shoulder of his flesh arm.

They all piled into the kitchen, Caleb offering Peter and Wanda (and their kittens) seats at the kitchen table. Peter was surprised to see some personalization in the house finally, their refrigerator home to several distinctive magnets, including a few in the shape of cats, a map of the world, a Pride flag, and to Peter’s amusem*nt, Captain America’s shield and Thor’s hammer.

“Grilled cheese and tomato soup okay?” Caleb asked, already beginning to rummage around the cupboards.

“That’s lovely, thank you, Caleb,” Wanda agreed, the all white kitten she claimed sitting on the table in front of her, it’s little teeth gnawing on one of her many rings while the tuxedo kitten napped on her chest.

“Winter, rest,” Caleb commanded, his tone firm, like he was assigning orders.

Bucky pouted, somehow looking regal and lordly with the cat’s long fluffy tail wrapped around his neck like a snow white scarf.

“Coffee will be ready upon waking, set clock to 25 minutes.”

Peter glanced around, finding himself accustomed to waiting for an A.I. to respond.

None did.

“Fine,” Bucky sniffed, agreeing with the demand but making it clear he didn’t like it. He pointed a slender finger at Wanda and Peter seated close together at the table. “You two better be here when I wake up.”

“Of course we will,” Wanda nodded, offering their friend a comforting smile, not bothering to say they wouldn’t leave without him, anyways.

Peter expected Bucky to leave the kitchen and maybe go nap on the couch or something, but to his and Wanda’s horror, the Super Soldier gently placed Grant on the floor and shuffled into the block of space between the refrigerator and the end of the kitchen counter. It was barely wide enough for him to fit his shoulders, but he somehow managed to place his back against the wall, keeping his legs stretched out in front of him and his butt on the floor.

Grant tight-rope walked up Bucky’s legs and settled back down into his lap, sharp golden eyes facing the rest of the kitchen like Bucky’s personal guard cat. The three of them watched in silence as Bucky’s body minutely relaxed, his breath evening out, and the man falling into immediate slumber.

“Uh, what just happened?” Peter asked, stunned. “I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen him fall asleep, like ever. I know Steve would get concerned sometimes because Bucky would regularly go days without sleeping, at least when he first moved in with him.”

“The Winter Soldier has almost perfect control over his body,” Caleb explained, keeping his back towards them while he fluttered around the kitchen. “Even with the cracking programming, some things were better ingrained than others, and setting internal time clocks for short periods of time worked well when he couldn’t sleep, at least if someone else gave the command. A twenty-five minute nap for him is like six hours for a normal person.”

“That makes sense, I guess,” Wanda reluctantly accepted. “Why the floor, though?

“He wasn’t used to comfort,” Caleb uneasily answered, though deep down they already could have guessed the reasoning. “If he needed to sleep outside of cryo, it was on a mission, so the conditions were never optimal.”

Peter dropped his kitten next to the one trying to eat Wanda’s rings, unable to sit still with this new information.

“Can I help, man?” he shyly asked, fiddling with the web shooters on his wrist and feeling so very uncomfortable all of a sudden, like he wanted to claw at his own skin. He couldn’t even fathom the things Bucky went through to gain that sort of mastery over his own body.

“I’m good,” Caleb called, glancing back at him. He must have seen something in his posture or his expression, because his face suddenly softened. “Actually…”

Bucky woke up feeling like he’d been run over by a semi and then pitched out of a plane into a volcano.

Okay, maybe that was a tad dramatic, but since feeling awful upon waking was nothing new (though it had been awhile since he’d woken feeling this bad), he honestly wasn’t too worried about it. He kept his eyes closed though, decades of unpleasant experiences teaching him the benefits of allowing his senses to take stock of his surroundings before showing he was awake.

Bucky felt a familiar, calming presence on his lap, which made zero sense since last he remembered, he was on his way to go shopping with the kiddos. After hearing Peter and Caleb quietly nerding out over some video game and Wanda’s soft laugher at their excited murmuring, his eyes flew open, surprised at this turn of events.

‘You failed, again’, Winter disdainfully explained, showing him the memory of how he landed in his current predicament, unfortunately quite literally. He cringed, flustered by getting caught in stealth mode (again), but also because of the ditzy way he acted afterwards, the memories returning quickly in all their embarrassing glory.

‘You couldn’t like… warn me he was home?’ he growled back to the Winter Soldier. ‘I know you knew he was there.’

‘You couldn’t like… use your own senses and training?’ Winter mocked. ‘I know you know how to assess your surroundings.’

‘Can we not fight, please?’ past-Bucky pleaded. ‘It’s already been a long day, and we’ve got a lot left to do.’

“James?” Wanda appeared in front of him, three kittens held up by her magic and batting a yarn ball back and forth with each other.

He made a pained noise in the back of his throat, wiggling out of his favorite napping spot with Grant still settled comfortably in his lap, the cat unbothered by the movement.

“Are you still hurt?” Peter asked worriedly, his doe-eyes wider than usual.

“My feelings hurt,” he acknowledged, and poor Caleb began to apologize profusely for electrocuting him and then letting him fall from the vent where he hit his head on the floor.

Bucky waved the apology away, because that was his fault for assuming the younger man wouldn’t be home.

‘Assumption is the downfall of proper reconnaissance’, Winter sniffed.

“Nah, don’t blame you for that, pal. That was on me, I stupidly assumed you would have gone back to the other house since you liked it more.” He pointed to Wanda and the kittens tumbling raucously around her. “This. This is cute as f*ck, and it hurts me, here.” He tapped his heart.

“Ah, I see,” Wanda laughed, slowly lowering the kittens to the floor, the three running off into the living room, smacking their yarn ball like they were playing soccer. “You woke up just in time for lunch, so how about we sit and catch up? Each of us has many questions.”

“Oh yes,” Bucky narrowed his eyes, standing up and depositing Grant comfortably back on his flesh shoulder. “Because I want to know how you two ended up here when I specifically instructed you to remain ten blocks away at that café.”

Peter looked guilty, but Wanda just waved a hand dismissively. “Pah, you are a fool if you thought we would let you separate from us.”

“Yeppp,” Peter agreed, popping the -p sound. “Besides, we would pretty much, without a doubt, most definitely be murdered by the good Captain if something happened to you because we let you out of our sight.”

“Peter!” Wanda admonished, flicking him in the forehead.

“Ow! Jesus, why are you like this? Ugh and you know I’m right, so don’t even.”

Bucky laughed at their antics, especially Peter who was all clenched up and bracing for the next attack.

“Settle down, children,” he reproached, ushering them back to their seats and helping Caleb place the heaping plate of sandwiches and soup on the table.

They each served themselves, Bucky being sure to place a bit more food on each of the others' plates.

“Sooo…” Peter began in between bites of food. “Who is gonna go first?”

They all eyed each other but no one spoke, and then Bucky realized he had three sets of eyes trained on him.

“Ugh, kay, guess I’ll start from the beginning. Or, after the helicarrier part, since nothing else before that matters as much, and the things that do, you already know.”

‘Good luck explaining that sh*t show,’ past-Bucky giggled, recalling the sheer chaos of their mental status after the programming started cracking.

‘Feel free to remind them of our past accomplishments first,’ Winter humbly suggested.

He took a deep breath, ignoring the comments from the peanut gallery in the back of his mind. “So, I guess the easiest way to explain it is just how I viewed everything at the time combined with what I know now, so stop me if you have questions. But you all know how I pretty much share a mind with two other parts of myself, yes?”

They all nodded.

“Right. Well back then, my head was even more of a mess than it is now. My programming was progressively shattering the longer I was away from Hydra and out of cryo, and I was more aware of myself and surroundings to an extent. But overall, I was still pretty much dominated by the Winter Soldier psyche since I hadn’t developed my own mind, if that makes sense. Past-Bucky was only there in the sense that he recognized Steve and that our current connection to him… as in, uh, trying to kill him, was wrong. Eventually, he got Winter to accept the new mission because Winter’s orders contradicted his own previously self-assigned mission, which was to protect this guy. Past-Bucky swore from the very first moment Steve accepted his friendship that he would make it his lifelong mission to protect him… and although it doesn’t seem like it at times, we all share the same brain.”

He paused to take a fortifying sip of his coffee. He had avoided talking about this before to anyone from the Tower because he felt guilty as f*ck.

“I couldn’t understand what was happening to me at first, so I basically fell back into my instincts. I could run, of course, now that I was ‘free’ so to speak, but I tossed that thought away immediately after it crossed my mind. It caused me such extreme anxiety to go against assigned orders on what to do after the mission, combined with the terror of the repercussions from failing the mission itself… I wanted to terminate myself, and for a while I was convinced that was my only option.”

“Oh, James, I’m so glad you didn’t.”

He kept his gaze focused on his coffee cup, unable to meet anyone’s eyes. He still felt deeply ashamed about those early days, and talking about it was harder than he thought it would be. Grant, likely sensing his distress because he was definitely an angel, jumped down into his lap and began nosing his hand for pets.

“I made my way around to a few of the safe houses I knew in the area looking for someone to tell me what to do next while also gathering basic supplies; food, clothing, cash, weapons, documents, and resting when needed. There was no real thought process, besides stay hidden from authorities, find answers, and keep moving. Survive. Fortunately, at least in the long run, all I found in those were a few dead bodies.”

“Cyanide?” Peter asked.

“Yep. Guess I wasn’t the only one freaked out about the leader of Hydra dying and the Widow uploading all the documents onto the internet. I made it back to the bank after a few days of laying low; logically, I knew I should have started there, but I think deep down all parts of me wanted to avoid being forced back into control.”

“Understandable,” Caleb concurred, and a quick glance up showed all three nodding their heads.

“That’s where I found the first living person.” He pointed to Caleb. “He was a lot smaller, though.” Bucky squinted, trying to recall his last memory of the teen. “You were smaller last I saw, right?”

‘What’s with the tiny guys becoming giant dudes when we go away for a bit?’ past-Bucky questioned, and damn, he had a point.

‘Never leave the Spider Child!’ Winter commanded, likely thinking of how clumsy Peter already was in his shorter, slimmer body (not that Peter was anywhere near as tiny and thin as Steve had been before the serum… Peter was lean, but he was a pretty normal height for a seventeen year old boy).

“Yeah.” Caleb self-consciously met Bucky’s eyes, and the brunette gave an encouraging smile and a nod; there was no judgment here.

“My uncle is Brock Rumlow,” Caleb began explaining, staring down blankly at his clasped hands. He glanced up when Peter sucked in a breath at the name. “Heard of him?”

“Cap dropped a building on him in the fight.” Peter flinched after the statement left his mouth, flailing his arms when his mind processed how his words came across. “Oh my god, dude, sorry, that was sh*tty.”

“No, it’s okay,” Caleb said, lips tilted in amusem*nt. “He wasn’t a terrible uncle for the most part. Took me a while to realize he was just a sh*tty person, overall.”

Caleb leaned his chair back, easily balancing it on two legs. “I was a small kid, very introverted and quiet, not very strong, not very fast, but he taught me how to shoot early on and I excelled. At sixteen, he slowly started introducing me to Hydra, claiming I would be partners with their lead soldier and would work to help them create a better world.”

“He didn’t explain how Hydra would create that better world, did he?” Wanda rightly questioned, stirring her soup with her magic.

“Left that part out, but it was clear my participation was mandatory,” Caleb nodded. “At eighteen, the experimental injections began. Uncle Brock said they would increase my senses, speed up healing, all that sh*t, but over a longer period of time than Captain America’s.”

The eldest teen glanced down at his bulky body and blushed; Bucky was pretty sure Caleb was bigger than Steve overall, and he was definitely broader than Bucky, though the two best friends were slightly taller than the younger man. “The injections worked, clearly, but nothing really happened at that time except some gross side effects, so they stopped a half a year later after doing them once a month. That’s around the time they brought the Winter Soldier to America.”

“And you saw what Hydra really stood for?” Peter correctly inferred, staring morosely down at his empty plate; Bucky tossed him another sandwich from his own plate, winking when the youngest smiled gratefully back.

“And I saw my own future; of course, Uncle Brock assured me that none of that would happen to me as long as I complied with my orders,” he snorted bitterly. “I alternated between college classes, time at the range, and working in the depths of an abandoned bank with a brainwashed assassin, terrified out of my mind, knowing as each day passed, I was one step closer to leading the same life as him.”

“That sounds awful,” Wanda sympathized, frowning compassionately at Caleb.

“Seeing a human being under control like that, being treated like that, having no free will… it was…” Caleb trailed off, shuddering, unable to find the words to encompass the gravity of the horrors he witnessed. “And I did nothing to stop it.”

“Hey now, pal, none of that,” Bucky gently admonished, this argument familiar from their last month together. “We agreed, no hard feelings remember? I don’t blame you.”

“Yes but-“

“No, no buts. I know it’s hard to come to terms with the things you’ve done, or in your case, not done, and our biggest critics are always ourselves, but,” Bucky made sure his voice was firm, eyes locked with Caleb’s, “you were not the one who did this to me…hell, you weren’t even alive when it happened, nor would you have been able to help me without dying painfully, likely by my own hand. I do not blame you at all, for anything.”

“Okay, but -“

“No!” he growled, smacking the table with his flesh hand and not quite yelling, but speaking loud enough to startle the others plus the cat on his lap. Bucky didn’t wince as Grant retracted his claws from his legs and settled back down, flicking his tail in Bucky’s face as he did so. “Do you blame me for what I did with Hydra?”

“Of course not-“

“Do you think I should blame myself?”

“No-“

“Well, I do blame myself. But I’m working on that, and I hope you’ll learn to forgive yourself, too. You have my forgiveness if it helps, not that I feel like there’s anything to forgive.”

“Okay,” Caleb sniffed wetly, finally giving up (at least for now).

Bucky handed him and then Peter a napkin from the dispenser in the center of the table, the youngest boy’s face streaked with silent tears that pained Bucky to see.

‘Tears of suffering go against the mission objective,’ Winter warned. ‘Especially if we inflicted them.’

Bucky decided on a different tactic.

“Okay, so I arrived at the bank,” Bucky continued. “And the place is completely wrecked, no signs of life except this little squirt,” he nodded at Caleb, “who clearly had a cyanide pill in his hand but was staring blankly at the wall.”

Caleb picked the story up from there. “I had been there for days; there weren’t many people down there normally, but the few who were had already taken theirs after we made sure the room was cleared of paper and digital evidence. I just… couldn’t do it. I dragged their bodies into a different room, destroyed the chair and the cryo chamber, and then just sat there, I guess? That part is a bit blurry. I only remember hearing a noise and thinking it was the police, and when I looked up, I’m suddenly staring directly at the face of the Winter Soldier, creepy black eye paint and all.”

‘I like the black eye paint, why is everyone so mean about it?’ Winter petulantly complained, and Bucky imagined he’d be stomping his foot moodily if he was visible right now.

‘It makes you look like a zombie racoon,’ past-Bucky answered immediately. ‘And it really has no purpose, you just like the aesthetics.’

Bucky sniffed, playfully indignant. “My face is beautiful, you are privileged to gaze upon it.”

“Yeah, yeah, hush with your ego, mister,” Wanda giggled, the two boys rolling their eyes and scoffing.

“Did I ever tell you why I didn’t kill you right away?” Bucky asked Caleb, knowing he hadn’t.

“No, I figured it was because I could be useful, and you knew I had trained to be your partner.”

It was Bucky’s turn to roll his eyes. “Bub, the Winter Soldier is a one-man pony show, and his only friend is his customized rifle. We weren’t ever gonna be a team, at least not with Hydra ruling.”

“The world’s most terrifying ghost pony show,” Peter quipped, and Bucky was pleased to see some light come back into the boy’s eyes; he hated making any of these three upset.

“Exactly. But I agreed to partner up because Winter recognized you. You know why?”

Caleb cringed, before shooting Bucky a sly smirk. “Cuz he’s actually aware of his surroundings?” (The “unlike you” was left unspoken.)

Bucky laughed loudly, Winter cackling in the back of his head at the audacity, but also in agreement. “Well, yes, there’s that. But it was ‘cuz he recognized you as the nice one. The one that didn’t use cold water when hosing me down from cryo or after a mission or training. The one that put extra sustenance into my IV. The one that took his time with grooming, actually giving me a real haircut instead of just hacking it off and always making sure my clothes were regularly changed and cleaned. The one that didn’t beat me just because they could. Seventy some odd years as the Winter Soldier, and you were the first person to show me any kindness.”

“How did you get away with that?” Wanda inquired, curious but nonjudgmental. “Hydra doesn’t seem the type to accept a show of weakness, which was exactly how they would have reacted to that, no offense, James.”

“Winter said the same thing at one point,” Bucky shrugged, also wondering how Caleb was allowed to do the things he did.

‘He took unnecessary risks, and for what? Comfort is not important when you have orders to complete,’ Winter grumbled in the background (Bucky knew, despite his whining, that the Winter Soldier was extremely fond of Caleb, or as much as he could be fond of anyone that wasn’t Steve or Grant).

“Pierce actually commented on it. He said, ‘I want you to remember, son, that the Soldier is a weapon, it’s not your friend, and it’s not something you should coddle.’ But I was prepared for someone calling it out, so I said, ‘I always take special care of my weapons, sir, because that’s how they continue to remain in pristine and optimal condition.’ And they accepted that because they’re all a bunch of dicks.”

Bucky grabbed a few more napkins and passed them out around the table, all three snatching them up to dab their eyes. Ugh, he didn’t deserve their tears, but a tight space in his chest was beginning to loosen as he told the story.

“So anyways. I’m at the bank, it’s basically a ghost town.” Wanda snorted, grumbling about his terrible jokes, which, rude, that one was clever. “Except Caleb here, who told me this cell of Hydra had basically died, and with that, likely anyone who knew I existed. But Hydra is spread out throughout the world, and I should disappear now while I can.”

“He didn’t accept that at all,” Caleb sighed remorsefully.

“Nope, I wanted to know who I was or who I had been, at least. The whole thing with Steve was basically a mind f*ck. Like why did I care about this random dude? Who was he? And why was he so important to this voice in my head?”

“And I made the mistake,” Caleb face palmed at the memory, “of telling him the cliff notes version of his history and the history of Captain America… and then essentially told him that he should forget about Steve Rogers because he was literally Hydra’s number one enemy, and the Soldier would never be safe around him with Hydra still operating.”

“Oh my god,” Peter gasped, hand covering his mouth. “Dude, how are you still alive?!”

“No idea,” Caleb shrugged, legitimately unsure how he survived this long. “Pretty sure his brain melted a bit, because he just sat down and didn’t move for an hour, just stared at a wall and blinked maybe once every five minutes.”

“I was having a very important discussion with myself,” Bucky glared, pretending to be offended. “All of you should try it sometime. Normal people call it ‘thinking’.”

“We are sorry, James,” Wanda placated over the boys’ laughter, waving her hand so their empty plates were swept into the sink in a flair of red smoke.

Bucky suddenly remembered why he didn’t want to tell this story, like, ever; the first part was shameful, certainly, but the second part was downright embarrassing.

“Long story short, we spent most of that year raiding Hydra cells, the smaller ones at least, and collecting cash and data between each one so we could go to the next. Then we came back to New York after seeing Sokovia on the news. I adopted a cat, and the rest is history!”

He swept Grant up onto his shoulder, the cat batting his ear in annoyance at being woken from his nap, and scooted his chair back, attempting to stand up.

“Oh, no, buddy, sit down, you are not leaving out the best parts. I suffered!” Caleb exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at Bucky, his tone light, though, to not offend. “I suffered for weeks before you suddenly disappeared, all because of you. And I’ve had no one to vent about it to. If you don’t wanna tell it, I will.”

“Ugh,” Bucky groaned, resigned to his fate. He gently placed Grant back in his lap, making sure to give him extra pets in apology for the disruption. “You tell the first part.”

“So, as Winter said, we went around the country to other locations we knew of, then Europe, then parts of Russia, cleaning out Hydra cells. I assumed it was because he wanted his rightful revenge, but he started getting restless after a few months. We didn’t talk much about things besides the missions or ‘soldier sh*t’ like weapons, spy tactics, etcetera, so I didn’t know for sure what was wrong. But I caught him staring at an atlas of New York once, then obsessively watching the news about Sokovia when the Avengers were there, then researching Captain America on this encrypted laptop we had. So, I suggested we head back to New York to regroup.”

“At the bank, during my thinking time,” he stuck his tongue out at Caleb, “Past-Bucky had flipped out over Steve being Hydra’s number one enemy and ranted about how we needed to go find him. We all compromised, agreeing that taking down Hydra cells was a good plan; past-Bucky because it protected Steve in the long run, Winter because he could exercise his skills to complete the new shifted mission objective, similar to past-Bucky’s thoughts but through different methods, and me because I was f*cking confused but revenge sounded nice.”

He sighed. Here comes the embarrassing parts.

“I got more confused as time went on; memories were coming back, the voices were warring in my head about what we should do next, and I was starting to remember what it was like to be alive, if that makes sense, and was curious about my past. Knowledge is power, as an assassin and spy, so I agreed to Caleb’s suggestion.”

“Is this where you stalked Steve?” Wanda smugly asked, smirking, because she is secretly wicked.

“YES!” Caleb laughed, throwing his head back and slapping his knee at the memories.

“Wait, what!?” Peter cried, his mouth wide open in shock. “I most certainly did not know this part!”

“I saw glimpses in his memories, that’s the only reason I know.”

“He started at the Smithsonian again,” Caleb explained, his dark eyes bright and amused, “having gone there once before the bank. Think he went there five times before we moved onto staking out the Avengers compound.”

Bucky moaned in embarrassment, placing his forehead on the table in defeat.

“For what it’s worth, James, no one ever saw you,” Wanda reassured, reaching over to pat his head, careful to avoid messing his hair up again.

“Not true,” he grumbled into the wood.

“Never actually saw you either,” Caleb remarked to Wanda, counting off on his fingers who they saw. “Saw Captain, the Widow, the Falcon, uh, Vision?”

“Yes, you would have seen Vision. I did most of my training indoors, and I didn’t leave much.”

Keeping his face pressed into the table, he reached his flesh hand out in her general direction, palm up, and gave her hand a comforting squeeze when she grabbed his in turn. He knew her brother passed right before she ended up at the compound, and it would always be a touchy subject for her.

“Ah. Well, anyways, Winter here was staking out the compound fairly frequently, doing ‘reconnaissance’ as he called it.”

“I was!”

“What for?” Peter innocently asked.

“Observation, Peter, keep up,” Wanda giggled.

“At first, he’d return to our other base closer to the compound and discuss what he saw like he was giving a mission report, nothing but emotionless facts. As time went on, he’d come home every day absolutely in a tizzy like; ‘that Falcon guy is an awful shot, do you know how many targets he missed today?’ and then, ‘why are modern people so touchy with people they barely know, don’t they understand personal space?’, ‘that Falcon guy can’t go five minutes without needing attention from Steve, he’s like a toddler,’ and my personal favorite, ‘none of them are good enough to stand next to Steve let alone fight beside him, how any of them survived so long is beyond me.’”

“He was jealous.” Wanda said it as a statement, not a question.

“Explains why he hates Sam so much,” Peter giggled. “It confuses the daylights out of Steve.”

“No,” Bucky mumbled, still speaking into the table. “Course I wasn’t jealous, I was just curious and trying to make sense of things. And, right as I worked out the kinks in my infiltration plan, the Avengers relocated to the Tower, which for the record, has way less security than the Compound.”

“Didn’t… didn’t you get caught at the Tower, though?” Peter questioned, brows furrowed in confusion. “Why were you even going to infiltrate the Compound? I’m so lost in this thought process.”

‘The shameeeee,’ Winter cried melodramatically in the background.

“Is that what happened?” Caleb turned towards Bucky, ignoring Peter’s questions.

“I was tricked!” Bucky exclaimed, lifting his head from the table to defend himself. “We came back here, started scoping out the Tower, and I found a good spot where I’d be able to observe unseen.”

“What was the goal again?” Wanda cut in when Peter looked like he was about to flip the table since no one would answer his question.

“Make sure Captain America remembers he exists,” Caleb whispered conspiringly, because he was the worst. “Literally, I think he was going to pop in, briefly be seen, and then pop out.”

“The irony is that Steve spent that entire year lookingeverywherefor you, and you were right under his nose for that last quarter,” Wanda snickered, scooping a wayward kitten off the floor and cuddling it to her chest.

“Yes, yes, laugh it up, and no, that was not the plan. This story will never leave the room, by the way. Poor Winter was horrified at getting busted.”

‘The plan was to scope out the quality of the current living situation, discreetly bug the entire apartment, and do closer personnel reconnaissance if possible before making a stealthy tactical retreat,’ Winter supplied, confused by Caleb’s suggested plan and Bucky’s lack of denial. ‘It was a good plan, if someone had paid attention to their surroundings.’

‘Yes, pal, that is slightly creepy to normal people. We are not saying that. We will just let them assume what they want.’

‘And Steve is a really private person, so he would flip if he found out someone was spying on him,’ past-Bucky added.

“You didn’t want to talk to him?” Peter tilted his head adorably, still confused by Bucky’s illogical thought process at the time (which, fair, since Bucky had been confused himself the entire time he lived it).

Bucky’s shoulders slumped, and he anxiously chewed on his lip. “I was afraid and hadn’t really worked myself up to that part yet. What if he had forgotten about me? It looked like he already had a new best friend. What if he wanted to put me on trial for my crimes? That’d be understandable, I couldn't really blame him, lord knows I did some atrocious things. What if he met me, and then was like, ‘ew, this isn’t the guy I remember being friends with, and this new dude is awful’ and ditched me? Also totally understandable, because I will never be the same guy he knew before falling off that train. But what would I do, then, ya know?”

The other three frowned at his explanation.

“As salty as I am about Steve today, I don’t think any of those things would ever cross his mind,” Peter assured the Super Soldier. “Like, ever. He may not be gung ho about you going on missions with him, but he definitely likes you as you are today... trust me, I have eyes. And you are definitely his best friend forever, not Sam.”

Bucky took a napkin for himself, dabbing at his own teary eyes; he’d hardly admitted these fears to himself, but he felt marginally better after having finally spoken them aloud. “Thanks, pal.”

“Who tricked you?” Caleb questioned, surprised, which made Bucky feel better that at least someone still thought he had skills.

“Stark’s A.I.”

“Friday caught you!?”

“Yeah,” he sighed in resignation. It was not one of his finest moments by a long shot (‘Understatement,’ Winter hissed bitterly). “I’m close to the Tower, about to climb up the building next to it, and suddenly the Tower itself starts talking to me, which, mind f*ck. Says she knows who I am, starts dropping full names, birthdates, and really super classified info. Then she adds that she knows I was at the Compound, but she didn’t say anything to anyone because I wasn’t causing harm. Just observing. She asked what I was planning to do here, and like a dummy, I said I was making sure Captain America was safe. And she tells me he isn’t.”

“Oh no,” Peter groaned, despite knowing what happened next.

“So I scale the building (“like a boss,” Peter adds, which makes Winter preen), and she leads me to his living room window. All I hear is the shower running in the bathroom, and of course, I’m over here thinking this jerk hit his head and is now drowning. Or something. I don’t know, all thoughts were basically just chaotic screaming, and I’m working on instinct.”

“So you climb in the window...” Wanda leads, teasingly.

Bucky glowered. “So I shimmy in this window, all stealth ghost mode, and this kid,” he points to Peter, “is laying on the couch and hears me climb in somehow.”

“Yikes, about that,” Peter laughs nervously, running a hand through his hair. “Ok honestly. I didn’t hear you at all. Friday informed me an intruder was coming and gave me the exact seconds to countdown before attacking.”

“This kid got the jump on you?” Caleb skeptically eyed Peter’s thin form up and down.

Bucky and Peter share a wordless look, and Peter gives a resolute nod, before turning to Caleb and showing him the web shooters cuffed to his wrists. He knows how much his secret identity means to him, and it warms Bucky’s heart that the teen will trust someone solely because Bucky does.

Caleb gives a low whistle. “You’re Spider-Man.” It’s not a question.

“I am. And I was actually on the ceiling which is why Bucky didn’t see or sense me.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Bucky groaned; the brunette boy had scared the wits out of him, like why would he ever expect to find someone sticking to the ceiling?! What the literal f*ck goes on in the future? “The kid wraps a web around me like the tightest straight jacket ever, and THEN has the audacity to string me to the ceiling, so I’m dangling there like one of those stupid wind chimes, just swinging in the breeze, arms locked to my body.”

“You scared the sh*t out of me when I walked in,” Wanda chuckled at the memory. The all white kitten on her chest decided now would be a good time to chew on her dangling hair, and Peter leaned over to help detangle the mischievous kitten from her locks.

“Wanda walks in, they’re about to have some movie night or something, and screams so loudly I think I went partially deaf.”

“It was bad,” Peter winced sympathetically, and Wanda shrugged, unapologetic, her kitten now on the table and attempting to destroy the napkin dispenser.

“Let me guess, out comes Captain America?” Caleb asks, face bright with amusem*nt.

“In all his mid-shower glory,” Wanda cackles, throwing her head back in glee. “You can pretty much only see James’s face through Peter’s webbing, and I thought his eyes were gonna pop out of his head.”

“There was a towel! “ Bucky cried, not wanting to give Caleb the wrong idea.

‘Too bad’, his treacherous brain supplied.

‘Ugh, not the time brain!’

“And the shield,” Peter contributed helpfully. “Pretty sure he brings it everywhere now that I think about it, but he had a towel tightly wrapped around his waist, and he’s holding the shield all ready to attack like he’s not half naked and dripping giant puddles onto the hard floor.”

“Oh my god.” Caleb’s literally wiping tears from his eyes, the traitor.

“And then James is just like, in the softest, most adorable voice ever, ‘Hi, Steve.’”

Wanda had to pause because she’s laughing too hard; the startled kitten ran over to Caleb, jumping agilely onto his chest and cuddling into a tiny ball on his shoulder.

“And then… and then he’s already broken a hand free, and instead of trying pull the rest of himself out of the web, he just gives a frozen Captain America-“

“That was awful, Wanda,” he glared, because, honestly, ice jokes? So tacky.

“He gives him a tiny wave and a small smile,” she continued, ignoring him. “And Steve eventually realizes he isn’t dreaming or hallucinating, so he’s all, ‘do you know who I am?’ so James, because he’s petty, is just like, ‘f*ckin obviously, unless your name ain’t Steve anymore? Now let me down, cuz it won’t be pretty if I barf all over your nice sofa and the children.’”

Oh, gee, now they’re all crying together again, except it’s from laughter. Which would be nice if it wasn’t aimed at him.

“Yes, laugh it up, ha ha.” He sighed, not really annoyed, just beyond embarrassed at being caught like that, and worse, tricked by a f*cking building. “So then, there’s some tears on Steve’s part who clearly wasn’t dying in the shower, I got a new arm thanks to Tony Stark, a lot of magic on Wanda’s part over a few weeks to successfully break my programming, and then a lot of pretending like I was a functioning person, and, now, I am working on actually being functional, yay, the end.”

Caleb squinted at him, his eyes darting between the three of them like he was trying to solve a complicated riddle. “You seem very functional to me, and believe me, I know what low-functioning looks like.”

“See, James, you’ve made big improvements. Please give yourself a little credit,” Wanda implored, her brown eyes pleading.

Bucky knew a losing argument when he saw one after years of being friends with the most stubborn person on the planet and decided to change the subject, especially considering they were wasting daylight.

“Yes, fine. Do you still have the cash we stashed here?” he asked Caleb, silently praying the man said yes so they could continue on with their plan, and he didn’t get electrocuted for no reason. “We all need clothes so we’re going to a few stores, and you’re welcome to come out with us if you want.”

“Whoa, wait,” Peter said, holding his hands up. “Shouldn’t we go back to the Tower, maybe?”

Wanda pursed her lips in thought. “It has been a really crazy day already, James, and the first time you’ve left since you got here. Maybe we should regroup another day?”

“I feel fine, thank you,” he huffed, waving off their concern; he appreciated it, but he needed to get this done today while he still had the motivation and drive to do it. “I think today’s a good day to start, even with all that chaos.”

He turned to Caleb expectantly.

“Uh, yes to the cash, no thank you to the shopping trip. Peter, can you run upstairs and grab the Lord of the Rings boxed set off the top shelf of the bookcase on the left, please? I’m going to fix Winter’s arm sleeve before you head out.”

“You can do that?” Bucky asked, eyes wide and tone hopeful as Peter dashed up the stairs. He had resigned himself to keeping his shirt sleeve down and his left hand in his pocket, which wasn’t a big deal; it was just nice to feel whole again, even if it was a temporary illusion.

Caleb rolled his eyes, placed the kitten back onto the floor, and started to fiddle with Natasha’s spy tech. “Messing around with different tech has become a hobby, I guess. Needed something to do.”

By the time Peter came back down holding the box out like it was a bomb, Bucky had two regular looking arms again.

“How much money do we need for three full wardrobes?” Bucky contemplated aloud, tapping his chin in thought. “Inflation is a bitch, so I think we’ll take all of this.”

“James, no, there’s gotta be like five grand in here,” Wanda gasped when Peter opened the box to reveal rows upon rows of rolled 20, 50, and 100 dollar bills. “And you only need one wardrobe, not three, and no, you are not buying us anything.”

Peter vehemently nodded next to her. “I won’t let Mr. Stark buy me anything, either, so it’s only fair. Just the suit and tech he makes.”

“You two should save yourselves the trouble of arguing and just accept that all three parts of this man are beyond stubborn, and you will be going home with more than just clothes if you keep arguing.” Caleb paused, eyeing the box overflowing with cash. “And it’s actually 10k, and before you feel bad for me, we both have way more than this in other places.”

Bucky, after much back and forth arguing (he even broke out the puppy dog eyes), finally got the younger heroes to agree (after telling them they were upsetting his son, and then holding the cat up to their faces; Grant looking exceptionally pathetic because he’s an excellent actor), and they spent a few minutes stuffing the currency into various parts of their clothing, the former-assassin giving them expert spy tips along the way (“Never spend too much cash in one store, that’s suspicious, and never accidentally reveal how much money you have on you when you go to pay… correct, Peter, that means you can’t stuff your wallet.”).

Bucky spent five minutes with minimal (more like a flood of) tears saying goodbye to his son and currently unnamed grandkids, assuring all four that he would see them again soon and promising them that one day they would all live together. Caleb escorted them to the door (“Real people use doors, Winter, not vents or windows… look, see, you’re even more of a person now than you were earlier today, congrats”), but seemed hesitant to open it. “You’ll… you’ll actually come back, right? Or at least text me?”

“Of course, pal,” Bucky promised, sweeping the younger man into a bruising hug. Despite his bulkier size, Caleb managed to make himself smaller as he returned the embrace. “I’m sorry I worried you, that was sh*tty of me. I’ll be around so much now, you’ll be sick of me in no time.”

“Okay, I trust you,” he accepted, stepping back from the hug, his words causing Bucky’s heart to squeeze painfully; how did these three people come to care so much for him when he was so undeserving?

‘They’ll realize eventually how f*cked up and worthless you are,’ his inner voice hissed.

He knew the voice was right, but he didn’t have the strength or time to deal with it currently.

“You can come to Peter’s birthday party,” Wanda offered, giving Caleb a quick hug as well. “He’s turning eighteen in a few weeks.”

“I’m not having a birthday party, though? Oh my god, guys, please, no parties,” Peter begged, holding his hands up in a prayer position and staring at Bucky with wide, pleading eyes. He looked to Caleb when Bucky just smirked in response. “You should totally come hang out with us at the Tower, your tech is sick, and I’m sure we’d have a lot of fun, but there will be no parties in my name, like ever.”

Caleb appeared to be embarrassed by the attention, and Bucky remembered the boy saying he never had many friends before. “Okay, don’t overwhelm the guy, let’s ease him into the craziness of the Tower. Give me your number, and we’ll go from there, okay bud?”

Bucky reached into his back pocket to find it empty, face palming when he came up empty handed after checking all possible places he could have stuffed his phone.

‘Poor planning, per usual,’ Winter huffed irritably.

“James, no, please don’t tell me you left your phone at home?!”

Bucky held his hands up defensively, the three teens gaping at him (though now that he’s thinking about it, he’s fairly certain Caleb turned twenty sometime in the last few months), scandalized that he’d forgotten something they carried everywhere with them. “I hardly leave the apartment, and I only use it to watch YouTube videos or message Steve when I’m hungry but too lazy to get up. Don’t judge me, I am sensitive. And old!”

Eventually, they finally made their way out the door, the younger ones giving Caleb their numbers (and Bucky’s, since he never bothered to memorize his, but they had it saved on their devices).

Bucky slid Steve's sunglasses back on, grateful he managed to retain some semblance of skill since despite everything he went through this morning, they remained unscratched and intact. “Alright, let’s head out. You know the budget, and I refuse to leave until we’ve spent at least three quarters of it.”

“Dear lord, we’ll be out all day,” Peter groaned, sharing an exasperated look with Wanda. “This way.”

“Should have stayed in school,” Bucky smirked, clapping Peter on the shoulder as they headed towards the nearest mall. “I’ll tell Stevie you confessed, and this is your punishment.”

“Somehow,” Wanda rolled her eyes at the Super Soldier. “I don’t think Steve will see this as a punishment.”

Fortunately, they weren’t out all day, but it was pretty close.

The trip wasn’t as bad as Bucky’s anxiety (and Winter) told him it would be, but he’s self aware-enough to recognize that having Wanda and Peter guiding him around was probably the only reason it wasn’t awful. There were so many stores to choose from, and each store had a boggling amount of items within, all different from the previous shop they’d explored, and the sheer amount of choices and options would have stressed Bucky out if he’d gone alone.

The teens essentially pulled and nudged him around, sometimes chucking things into their cart without a word, sometimes pausing to hold something up towards his body, before either shaking their head and placing it back down, or adding it to the ever growing pile of things to buy.

Bucky maintained a watchful eye on the procession, though, making sure each teen added items for themselves into the ‘yes’ pile, his two past-selves keeping close in step with him the entire time while offering their own commentary. He expanded his dismal day-to-day wardrobe with different color basic long-sleeve shirts, a few short-sleeve ones, jeans he actually liked, a navy hoodie, and athletic wear he promised himself he’d use, while also getting some different color boots, sneakers, and something Peter called ‘flip-flops’ (which Winter scoffed at for their lack of efficiency).

Under Wanda’s critical eye, he picked out a few more fashionable items, including two fitted dress shirts, a blue peacoat that made past-Bucky squeal in excitement and dramatically swoon, and a few sweaters that made him look ‘buff AF’ according to Peter (Bucky assumed by his thumbs up that this was a good thing, whatever it meant). His comfort wardrobe grew slightly (mostly because it was nonexistent before, hence the clothes borrowing from his friend down the hall) but upon seeing his disappointed expression in each store, Wanda promised she’d teach him how to purchase things online where the selection was exponentially larger.

He even bought a few candles that smelled amazing, some hair care products from the store Wanda also replenished her makeup at, something called an ‘XBox,’ and a couple of facial masks that a store assistant swore would make his skin glow radiantly and tighten his pores; he was skeptical, but both Wanda and Peter bought a few different varieties, including single-use warming eye masks which actually intrigued him, so he figured it would be fine. If he hated them, he’d pawn them off on someone in the Tower so they wouldn’t go to waste.

The only notable moment occurred at some store that both teens were equally excited to go into; something called ‘Hot Topic,’ if he read the sign correctly and was apparently where “cool people shopped”. The store was smaller and the aisles harder to navigate than previous ones, but the dimmed lights were soothing to his sensitive enhanced eyes; it filled him with a sense of contentment watching the two flitter around the store, quickly filling up a basket each with different shirts and random items, all while exclaiming happily upon finding something new to show each other.

The cashiers, though, were what truly caught his eye as he waited off to the side at the front of the store for the teens to finish. The female cashier had bright sky blue hair cut into a mohawk, with a piercing in her eyebrow, one in her lip, and one in her nose. The male cashier had hair the same length as Bucky’s, but his was an appealing mix of dark blues and purples to the point that it looked black until it hit the light just right - Bucky found it mesmerizing and couldn’t look away. The guy also had a few different types of ear piercings and a full sleeve tattoo on his right arm, and Bucky briefly entertained the idea of painting his metal arm with different designs until he realized he had no idea what he’d put on it.

Bucky was stunned, if he was going to be honest. He knew different subcultures existed within ‘mainstream’ culture; it had been like that even back in his day, but he couldn’t recall ever seeing people while he was growing up with piercings in their face or shockingly bright hair colors and styles.

He wouldn’t ever try anything too wild, at least not right away, but the idea of multi-colored hair intrigued him (but only with fun bright colors, he definitely wouldn’t bother dyeing his hair to a new natural color, because boring). Bucky made a mental note to consult Wanda later on about how he could go about changing his hair into something exciting; a facial piercing looked insanely cool, but it wouldn’t be convenient, not with going on missions and getting hit in the face all the time.

‘We aren’t cleared for missions or training,’ Winter reminded him with a huff.

‘Well… maybe now would be a good time to experiment, then.’

‘You could always take the piercing out or re-dye your hair if you don’t like it,’ past-Bucky pointed out behind him, ever supportive of his future-self.

Buck attempted to picture Steve with uniquely colored hair or a piercing, and his face must have done something weird, because suddenly the male cashier was speaking to him.

“You got a problem, man?” the guy gruffly asked from behind the counter, arms crossed over his chest as he glared at Bucky.

sh*t, sh*t, sh*t. “Uh… no, sorry,” Bucky shuffled awkwardly, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I actually really like your looks, I swear it, didn’t mean no offense. I’m just uh, not used to seeing that type of style, ever.”

The girl, who had been eyeing him up and down in disdain, immediately perked up. “Hey, thanks, dude. We usually get older folks who are startled by these types of looks, but you seem pretty young… you grow up under a rock or in one of those cults or something? The edgier punk looks are pretty common these days.”

“It was more of an underground bunker on the side of a mountain in Russia,” he joked, giving her a flirtatious wink.

‘Don’t think you should say that,’ past-Bucky hissed.

Both cashiers laughed, and Wanda appeared suddenly at his side. “My brother is kidding, of course.” She stepped on his foot in warning. “We are from Sokovia, though James never spent much time on the internet or watching television, so he’s a bit like an old man in that sense.”

“Hey, rude,” he grumbled, playfully bumping his hip into hers. “I was actually just thinking about how I’d look with fun colored hair or a facial piercing.”

Everyone, Peter included, suddenly started talking over each other, suggesting different colors he could try, or styles (something about an undercut was mentioned often), and which facial piercings he’d look good with (torn between lip or eyebrow), and he held his hands up in surrender.

“Jeez, okay, maybe we should start small and work our way up, yeah?” he suggested, already deciding piercings were out because Winter would not be okay with letting some random person near them with a sharp pointed object.

“We’ll start with the hair,” Wanda agreed, placing her basket on the counter and Peter moving to do the same. “I used to dye my own, so I can do it for you if you’re okay with that.”

“Definitely,” he nodded, legitimately excited by the prospect… maybe a fresh look would be just what he needed to feel like a real, normal person. “Can you imagine what Steve would say though? I don’t think he’d like it.”

“Is that your boyfriend?” the girl cashier asked curiously, causing Peter to burst into a sudden coughing fit.

“Sorry, sorry,” he waved his hand around, face beat red. “Choked on water.”

‘I keep forgetting that it's no longer illegal,’ past-Bucky whispered in amazement.

Bucky almost laughed at the comment… him, good enough for someone like Steve? Yeah, right, what a f*cking joke. Even before the train incident, his younger self never believed he was worthy enough to be Steve’s significant other.

“No, no, nothing like that,” Bucky waved a dismissive hand, smiling at the cashier to show he wasn’t offended by her remark when she looked like she was about to apologize. “He’s just my best pal; we served in the military together since we were young, and he’s pretty conservative, at least style wise.”

“Ah, I’ve had friends like that,” the guy said, nodding in understanding. “They’d always make snide comments about how they thought my clothing choices were weird, and dyeing hair was a girl thing, and asking why would I want to do something permanent like that to my body when I started getting tattoos. And it’s just… I hope your friend is better than that, but it’s your body, so you should do what you want with it. Screw what anyone else says, you know? Life’s too short to try to appeal to someone else’s standards.”

Wanda nodded firmly as she pulled out her wallet to pay. “He’s right, James. You already lived too long following someone else’s command, even in regards to your appearance. It’s okay to try new things.”

“Yeah!” Peter cheered, voice bright and excited. “It’ll be fun trying new looks and stuff. You might find something you really like, ya know? And if you hate it, none of it’s permanent, even a tattoo. And if Steve, or anyone else, has anything negative to say about it, I’ll… have some very strong words for them,” Peter finished, frowning angrily, and everyone smiled at his adorable rage face.

“You all are correct,” he agreed honestly, reaching out to take their bags before the younger ones could; his disguised metal arm easily held all of their purchases, though Peter insisted on taking a few so it didn’t look suspicious with how much Bucky was carrying on his own. “I will try to remain open-minded, regardless of anyone else’s opinions.”

And he would try, of course, but the idea of Steve openly critiquing his appearance made him queasy and want to curl up in a ball and hide from the world. He didn’t think the other man would say anything outright, more so his facial expressions giving away his true thoughts, but the idea still made Bucky feel uneasy.

[SpyDarLing]: Wanda, please tell me you have Barnes. His tracker isn’t working

[LittleRedWitch]: Affirmative, on our way home. ETA 45 minutes… James wants dinner. You put a tracker on him?!

[LittleRedWitch]: Also, Natasha, your puns are terrible, plz stop changing your name in my phone, there was a THEME and you ruined it

[SpyDarLing]: 1. Of course... 2. No, suffer ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[SpyDarLing]: Uh.. please hurry, we had to sedate the Captain

[LittleRedWitch]: Oh boy ❂.❂

Bucky assured the others that he could easily carry their multitude of bags on the walk home, but Peter insisted they call a car, mentioning that he needed to get home since it was nearing dark. Bucky couldn’t say no to that, so after a quick dinner at the food court, Happy picked them up from the front of the mall, and after much rearranging, they managed to fit all their stuff in the trunk.

“Jeez, is there anything left in the mall for other people?” Happy asked in disbelief, finally getting the trunk to shut completely. “Tony’s going to be upset if he finds out you accepted all this stuff from Barnes but won’t even let him buy you a bag of candy.”

Bucky remained silent, letting their conversation flow around him, mentally drained now that their long day was finally wrapping to a close.

‘We have done well,’ Winter purred within his head, content with their day’s progress despite being overly paranoid and bitchy the entire time they were in the mall. ‘We will be back to completing missions in no time.’

‘Got a long way to go, bud, don’t get ahead of yourself.’

‘And Steve is stubborn beyond belief.’ past-Bucky sighed resignedly. ‘We’ll get there, though, just gotta keep pushing and continuing to better ourselves.’’

At the mention of Steve, Bucky's anxiety spiking once more; he couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever felt nervous to be with his friend. At least… not the bad-type of nervous. Maybe a little flustered, but past-Bucky said that was normal, and had been, since their teens.

‘New emotional experiences are part of being a real person,’ past-Bucky noted cheerfully. ‘This, although scary, is a good thing.’

‘You survived worse, Barnes, this is nothing,’ he repeated to himself.

He found it hilarious how his thoughts had suddenly become more positive and encouraging after a day out doing things and sort of socializing. Perhaps he had done himself a disservice by making no effort whatsoever to leave the Tower, too frightened by the idea of the outside world to realize he was creating more fears for himself by staying indoors.

“Happy, do you mind helping me take these bags upstairs? Aunt May doesn’t know anything about Bucky, and if Wanda goes, then she’ll be forced into a really, super-awkward-for-everyone interrogation.

“Of course, kid,” Happy easily agreed. “I’ll be right back, you two.”

Wanda tugged on the sleeve of his flesh arm after they said their goodbyes to Peter. “You should take Natasha’s sleeve off before we get there.”

Oh, sh*t, he forgot about that… It was nice playing pretend while it lasted, he supposed. “Good idea, thanks.”

He removed the high-tech sleeve, mentally sighing at the return of the robot arm.

‘This arm is an extremely useful weapon,’ Winter forcefully reminded him. ‘And it will aid us in completing the mission of protecting Steve and the children. Remember that.’

‘Something seems to be bothering Wanda,’ past-Bucky interrupted. ‘She keeps fiddling with her rings, which she only does when she’s feeling uncomfortable.’

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asked the witch, repeatedly poking her in the side when she didn’t answer. “I can tell you’re nervous, just spit it out.”

“Oh my god, are you like twelve?” She smacked his hand away from her side, trying hard not to burst out into a fit of giggles. “Fine. Did you know there was a tracker in your arm?”

‘I told you there would be,’ Winter smugly said.

He shrugged, unconcerned. “This thing is too fancy, but I assumed it did, and I’m not surprised. Why?”

She cringed. “It’s no longer working, and the others are back.”

Oh, fun.

Past-Bucky let out a low whistle. ‘Yikes.’

“Take it we’re in trouble?” he sighed, running a hand over his face, resigned. He’d had more emotional drama today than he had in the months since Wanda finished breaking his programming.

“I don’t think so… you were never banned from leaving, so there’s a loophole there, but we need a good story for why the tracker doesn’t work in case someone questions it. I don’t think you want the first thing people know about Caleb is that he electrocuted you into unconsciousness, no?”

Chapter 3: The Incident

Chapter Text

They finally arrived at the Tower, and Bucky dropped Wanda off at her floor, feeling quite pleased by how many bags of items she purchased.

“Thank you for today,” he hugged her tight, dropping a soft kiss to the top of her head. “I appreciate you looking out for me.”

“Always,” she agreed, patting his shoulder. “You can leave your stuff here for now; I don’t think they want you bringing all that into the Medical. I’ll take them up to your apartment in a bit.”

“Wait, wait, what?!” Bucky reared back, panic filling his mind. “What happened?”

“I think Steve’s fine, they just had to sedate him?”

“AND YOU DIDN'T TELL ME EARLIER?!” he shrieked, frantically pushing the button for the elevator. “Wait, Friday, status report on Steve?”

“He received several injuries, predominately superficial scratching and bruising. He also had water in his lungs, a broken hand, and a severe concussion.”

‘Oh my god, oh my god, failure unacceptable, mission failure unacceptable, oh my god,’ Winter chanted, nearly hyperventilating at the report.

‘Poor Steve,’ past-Bucky cried, ‘He was being extra reckless, there’s no doubt about it, this is our fault. We shouldn’t have let him leave until we made up.’

“He’ll be fine, James,” Wanda spoke softly, gently nudging him into the open elevator, his thoughts once again a pile of chaos.

“Ms. Maximoff is correct,” Friday continued. “He was intending to sleep off his injuries in his apartment, but due to the extreme distress he exhibited upon returning to the Tower, the medical staff chose to sedate him before he could cause further harm to himself… or others.”

“Take me there, please,” Bucky commanded, briefly closing his eyes and resting his head on the back wall of the elevator; this guy was gonna be the death of him.

“Level 2, Medical. The Captain will be to your right.”

Bucky’s eyes were wide as the doors slid open; all he could hear was indistinct voices of people shouting over each other and various items crashing and clanging to the floor.

‘Move,’ Winter ordered, appearing at his left shoulder, his expression pinched. A worried past-Bucky stood on his right, chewing his lip nervously as his eyes darted fearfully around in search of Steve.

“Please, Mr. Rogers, return to bed, the doctor’s haven’t cleared you to leave!” a nurse pleaded.

Bucky soundlessly slipped down the hall towards the voices, head tucked to avoid detection; he generally avoided any medical areas and staff like the plague, too many terrifying memories flashing through his mind from the things Hydra did to him. It helped that Winter and past-Bucky stayed glued to him. But whenever they walked too close to a nurse, Winter flinched so severely, it startled the other two. After the third time, past-Bucky dropped back a step back, then reached his left hand out to hold Winter’s right. He refused to let go when the former-assassin tried to yank his hand back.

“I don’t care if I’ve been cleared or not, I’m fine. I’m sorry ma’am, but I need to go, so please get out of my way,” his friend’s stubborn voice answered back, polite but firm.

“You can’t go running around town with a concussion like that, Cap, especially with that sedative!” Stark argued heatedly. “I told you. Pete called Happy to pick him, Wanda, and Barnes up an hour ago.”

“Steve, seriously, he’s fine,” Natasha assured the Super Soldier. “Wanda texted and said they were on their way, should be here any minute.”

“What if someone kidnapped the three of them, then forced Peter to call Happy and made Wanda text you to lure us into a false sense of security while they transported them further away?! Don't you find it odd that Bucky's tracker suddenly isn't working? YOU HAVE NO IDEA IF IT WAS THEM, AND I WILL NOT TAKE ANY CHANCES WITH HIS SAFETY!” Steve roared, apparently tired of discussing it anymore. “I WILL NOT REST UNTIL HE IS BACK IN THIS TOWER, AND IF YOU DO NOT GET OUT OF MY WAY THIS INSTANT, I WILL REMOVE YOU MYSELF!!!”

Meekly, Bucky rounded the corner; Steve was looming over the two nurses who had the misfortune of being tasked with trying to get him to return to his hospital bed, Natasha was leaning against the wall, her posture casual but eyes sharp, and Stark was hovering awkwardly around them.

“You can rest now,” Natasha said, popping her gum.

“Natasha,” Steve growled warningly.

She rolled her eyes, tilted her head towards the hall, and Steve’s face froze at the sight of Bucky standing nervously in the doorway.

“Hi,” he greeted shyly, biting his lip. He resisted waving like he had the first day in the Tower, because seriously, that was not going to be a thing.

“Buck, oh my god, you’re here!” Steve cried, pushing by the two nurses and Stark to throw his arms securely around his best friend, one around Bucky’s middle and one on the back of his head (Bucky’s pretty sure he bruised his nose on Steve’s muscular chest, holy sh*t). “I was so worried, f*ck, I’m so happy you’re okay.”

It was honestly mind blowing how fast his demeanor changed.

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!” Steve yelled, leaning back to glare at him. He kept his hands firmly on Bucky's shoulders. “The apartment was empty. No note! The kids were gone! You could have DIED! You could have been SEEN!”

“Is he quoting Molly Weasley on purpose?” Stark ‘whispered’ to Natasha, his voice carrying throughout the room.

‘This guy’s f*ckin audacity,’ past-Bucky scoffed, glaring at Steve. ‘Get his ass back in bed.’

‘He’s shouting as if we are the reckless ones?!’ Winter hissed. ‘I think not! We have never suffered such injuries completing a mission!’

‘Well…’ past-Bucky muttered uneasily.

‘Not since falling off the train,’ Winter amended.

“ME?” Bucky screamed back, Friday’s and his past-selves’ words coursing through his brain. “I’M THE BAD GUY IN THIS?! Well, that's awfully rich, considering Friday told me what happened to you, pal. Sounds like you were the only one at risk of dying today. Not me. But you!"

"Buck -"

"How much more f*ckin' reckless can you get? Water in your lungs? Broken hand? Severe concussion?! Needing a sedative because you were being so obnoxious that you were putting yourself and others at risk? Care to explain that, Steve?!"

Bucky returned Steve’s glare with just as much heat.

‘You tell him!’ past-Bucky cheered, patting his right shoulder supportively.

Steve blushed, dropping his arms back to his side. He ran a hand through his blonde hair, looking over Bucky’s shoulder instead of making eye contact. “It wasn’t that bad? I was fine, promise.”

“It was pretty bad, actually,” Stark staunchly disagreed. “Not one of the best wins for you, man, I gotta say.”

“It had friends which we didn’t expect,” Steve sighed, shrugging. “It was a win, but a rough one, overall. Sam’s in the room next door with a broken arm and Clint’s also pretty bruised up. I got lucky, actually.”

“I don’t care about Wilson,” Bucky growled, poking a finger at Steve’s chest, his rage taking over. “I’ve spent most of my life making sure you stay alive, and you just go out there and throw your shield around like the world’s biggest frisbee, not giving a single f*ck about how much damage you take, and you expect a pat on the backbecause you lived another day? I don’t know who the f*ck you think I am, but you won’t get that from me, Steve, not ever.”

“Buck, come on, I’m fine, see?” He held his arms out, and Bucky counted seventeen different scratches and nine bruises on the visible skin (which there wasn’t much of, even with his uniform half-torn).

‘Unacceptable damage, not within mission parameters of protecting Steve,’ Winter grit his teeth. ‘Leave. We need him to follow.’

Bucky was almost vibrating with anger at this point, but decades of training prevented him from showing the severity of it.

“No, you’re not fine. I’m going back to the apartment. Stark, Widow.” He gave a nod to each.

Bucky turned on his heel, unwilling to wait for a response; heavy footsteps followed close behind, just as Winter predicted.

“Please, Buck,” Steve placed a hand on his shoulder, and Bucky flinched violently in reaction, too keyed up by being in a medical setting to react any other way at the unexpected touch. “I’m sorry, please, I messed up, I know. Please, hear me out,” he pleaded brokenly, likely taking Bucky’s flinch as a personal dig.

‘We must leave,’ Winter advised, nodding his head to the elevator.

“Not here.”

“Okay,” Steve agreed amicably. “When we get home.”

They rode the elevator in heavy silence, both with their backs to the wall, as far apart as possible. Bucky felt Steve staring at him, but he kept his eyes resolutely on the floor, his former-selves disappearing once they reached Steve’s apartment.

“Uh, I think someone accidentally had their stuff brought up here?” Steve remarked upon noticing the dozen or two different shopping bags on the coffee table and on the floor in front of the couch.

“No, they’re mine.”

“Oh,” Steve answered, his lips dropping to a frown. “You spent all day shopping?”

“Yeah, decided you were right -”

“No, no, Bucky, I was out of line,” Steve frantically cut in, reaching out to touch Bucky but thinking better of it and dropping his arm back down. “I should never have said those things, and none of what I said was true. I am so sorry, Buck, you didn’t deserve what I put you through.”

“No, you were right,” Bucky declared, placing his hands on his hips and finally meeting Steve’s troubled gaze. “But you should have said them to me and not Wilson.”

“No,” Steve shook his head. “I lied, Bucky, I don’t think those things at all, I swear it.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Don’t try and spare my feelings just because I’m mad at you for something else, Steve, that’s sh*tty.”

“Jesus, I forgot how f*cking frustrating you could be,” Steve groaned, shaking his head. “Okay let’s sit down, and I’ll explain, then you can explain why our living room looks like a shopping mall, okay?”

‘He thinks WE are the frustrating ones?’ past-Bucky scoffed. ‘Like he has a leg to stand on when it comes to being difficult, psh.’

“Fine,” Bucky sighed, toeing his boots off and sitting on the couch. He curled his feet under him and adjusted so he could face Steve as they talked. “You first.”

Steve hesitated, considering his words carefully. “I don’t think you’re a shell of a person. You’re not the same as you were before, of course, and that’s expected and fine. You still have many of the same qualities as you did before the war, but, plain and simple, Bucky, I’m scared.”

Bucky flinched, never expecting to hear something like that from the blonde. “O-of me? I’d… I’d never hurt you again, I promise -”

“No!” Steve flailed, almost tipping backwards over the armrest until Bucky’s excellent reflexes kicked in and he caught one of Steve’s arms, tugging the man back up. They ended up pressed closely together, both staring wide-eyed at the other before Bucky’s gaze dipped slightly lower down Steve’s face.

“Thanks,” he watched Steve’s plump lips whisper; Bucky’s brain finally kicked in at that moment with a panicked internal scream, and he quickly dropped his hand from Steve’s arm like he’d been burned.

Bucky nodded in response, scooching back to his spot on the couch.

Steve swallowed, looking down at his clasped hands. “Jesus, Buck, I promise, I could NEVER be scared of you. Even when you were all… full Winter Soldier, I wasn’t scared.”

‘Mildly offended,’ Winter sniffed delicately.

Past-Bucky snorted. 'Steve's never been scared to fight someone, regardless of how much bigger or stronger than he is. Sorry bub, you ain't special.'

‘Severely offended,’ Winter whined.

Bucky frowned, not understanding what his friend was trying to say. “You should have been scared, but okay. What are you scared of?”

“I -” Steve sighed and lifted a hand up to rub the back of his neck. “Sorry, I’m not good with words, not like this at least. I guess the clearest way to put it is...I'm scared of losing you.” Steve raised his head, locking eyes with Bucky. “I feel better knowing you’re back at the Tower, doing whatever it is you do during the day, and not out there risking your life either during a mission or off on your own. I know you can protect yourself, and I know you can fight, probably the best out of any of us, but I still worry something will happen to you. And I made up a bunch of ridiculous, untrue, and frankly awful lies to Sam so he’d leave me alone, but I did it because I thought I was protecting you by keeping you here, not because I don’t think you’re capable. And that isn’t fair to you.”

Bucky turned the explanation over in his head, contemplating. “I understand your fear, since it’s similar to how I feel every time you go out on dangerous missions and leave me behind where I can’t do anything to help you. But… where do we go from here?”

‘Missions, missions, missions,’ Winter chanted. ‘It is our job to protect him, not his job to protect us .’

‘I mean, I agree with Winter, but I also know Steve isn’t going to budge so easily,’ past-Bucky said.

“A compromise?” Steve suggested hopefully, co*cking his head. “Same as Peter and Wanda, I think we should start having you train on your own and with me, then eventually with the Team, then fieldwork. Does that seem fair?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “Only if the whole Team can have a vote after a few weeks to decide if I can go with you guys or not… no offense, Steve, but I can see you making more excuses to keep me here.”

Steve laughed, not taking offense, because Bucky was likely correct.

‘And if someone votes no, then… let’s just say, they will not like the consequences,’ Winter warned menacingly.

“Okay, I’m glad we worked that part out. I’m truly sorry for saying those things, Buck, you didn’t deserve to hear any of those horrific lies.” He hesitated, blush creeping onto his cheeks. “I lost it when we got back, and Friday said you weren’t here. The whole time, all I could think was something terrible happened to you, and your last memory of us together was me spewing those vile words.”

Bucky inched a bit closer to his friend, who scooted closer in return until they were sitting shoulder to shoulder. “You should probably apologize to those nurses, though... pretty sure one was in tears by the end.”

“Oh my god,” Steve groaned, dropping his head onto Bucky’s shoulder. “This has not been my finest day, and the creepy swamp dinosaur creatures weren’t even in the top three of sh*tty parts.”

Bucky tossed his head back, laughing loudly; at least he wasn’t the only one who had a rollercoaster of a day.

“Okay, your turn, pal,” Steve said, patting Bucky’s leg and then waving a hand towards the abundance of shopping bags.

“Well, despite what you think, you were actually kind of right,” Bucky explained, refusing to look at Steve. He needed to get this out. “I have been a shell of a person -”

“Buck-”

Glaring at his friend, Bucky lightly shoved his shoulder. “No, hush, Rogers, it’s my turn. I… I had a life, kind of, the year before I came here. The first, three quarters or so, wasn’t the best, mostly running on instinct and fighting. But I did things, there were living things I cared about, I got better, even with the programming still in my head. And when I came here, I got worse for a bit and eventually regained what I had previously, got a little better…and then all progress stopped completely.”

Bucky took a deep breath and clasped his hands together, dropping them into his lap so Steve wouldn’t notice them shaking. “I was a shadow; ‘playing house’ with you was safe, and I became unconsciously terrified of the outside world again. I had no desire to do anything besides go on missions with you, and since I couldn’t, I just stayed here and watched TV, played games, and hung out with the little ones. If it wasn’t for our… argument this morning, I would have properly continued this way for weeks, maybe longer.”

The brunette laughed bitterly. “I haven’t exercised since I got here. Don’t think I’ve cleaned my guns in two weeks. Hobbies? Got none, besides watching television and playing stupid phone games. I hardly have any of my own clothes, and I didn’t care. My hair? It’s actually kind of gross, I’m offended you let me walk around like this.”

“What?” Steve scrunched his nose in confusion. “Your hair’s fine, kinda long, but it suits you.”

Bucky co*cked a judgmental eyebrow at his friend and removed the hair tie from his bun, using his right hand to shake out his hair. “Steve, you know nothing. Look at these split-ends.” He shoved an offending lock into Steve’s face.

“Buck, I don’t even know what a split-end is, nor do I think you can get them with the serum," Steve laughed, pushing Bucky’s hand away. “So that’s the deal with the shopping?”

“Yes!” Bucky exclaimed, legitimately excited to show off his purchases until his eyes locked on a long scratch down Steve’s neck, and he felt his body tense up in silent rage - stupid reckless Captain America, always throwing himself into fight’s and forgetting to look after himself. “How about after breakfast tomorrow, I’ll show you all the stuff I got?”

Steve smiled, his eyes crinkling. “Sounds good, Buck. It’ll be like the old days when you used to strut around like a peaco*ck every time you got something new.”

‘I did not strut!’ past-Bucky screeched. ‘I modeled, because I am classy.’

“Plenty of dames would have paid big money to see that, so you better count yourself lucky, Rogers,” Bucky sniffed, elegantly raising his nose in the air.

“Alright, I’m going to bed before your ego gets any bigger.” Steve placed a hand on Bucky’s neck in a short embrace. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Course,” Bucky nodded. His lips curled in disgust when his senses finally picked up on the smell he’d been too anxious to notice previously. “But only if you shower tonight… pretty sure if I have to deal with your god-awful smell wafting through the air any longer, I will legitimately die.”

“Hey!” Steve gasped, placing a hand on his chest in offense. His nose crinkled in disgust a moment later. “Uh… wow, okay, never mind, it is pretty bad, isn’t it?”

“Horrible.”

Despite his emotionally chaotic and busy day, Bucky slept completely through the night, a rarity for him. He padded into the living room, already clad in a pair of Steve’s black sweatpants and a comfortable oversized dark blue sweater that said, ‘When I was a kid, we had nine planets’ (which he had ‘borrowed’ while the blonde was in the shower last night).

“Nice sweatshirt, kinda looks exactly like the one Thor gave me,” Steve laughed from the kitchen when he spotted his friend.

“Apparently,” Bucky drawled, hopping back onto the counter same as he did every morning. “The kids say you have to wash new clothes before you wear them… they were extremely adamant about it.”

‘The future is a strange place sometimes,’ past-Bucky noted.

“Yeah, that was weird to me, too,” Steve agreed truthfully, smiling so incredibly softly at Bucky, and the brunette valiantly resisted ducking his head in shyness (mostly because the oven timer suddenly went off, and Steve turned away from him).

“Any idea where the pot holders are? Swear I put them in the drawer the other day.”

Bucky smoothly slid off the counter. “No idea, scoot over.” He hip checked the other Super Soldier with a smidgeon more force than he’d use on Wanda yesterday.

“Jesus, Bucky, does everything you eat go to your backside?” Steve grumbled, having slid to the opposite side of the kitchen on his sock-clad feet.

“Hopefully,” he winked over his shoulder, bending down a little bit more than necessary when he opened the oven, using his metal hand to take out the breakfast casserole.

Past-Bucky gave a low whistle. ‘Feeling bold today are we?’

‘Feeling good this morning overall,’ he mentally shrugged in return.

Steve’s cheeks were tinged a rosy pink when Bucky glanced back over while gently setting the dish down on the stove. “Don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.” He waved his hand in Bucky’s general direction.

“What? My strong backside?” Bucky smirked co*ckily. “One could say I put the ‘ass’ in ‘assassin.’”

“No! Good lord, Buck, what’s gotten into you this morning?!” Steve paused, tilting his head in thought. “Hell, to be fair, you’ve always had strong legs, I shouldn’t be surprised you can bump me across the room like that. But you know that isn’t what I meant.”

He smacked Bucky’s shoulder playfully as he began distributing the food onto two large plates. “Okay food first, then I’m curious to see all the stuff you got.”

Bucky perked up and did a little excited dance; he loved showing off, okay, sue him. “Yes! And then you can help me take all the tags off so I can send them to the wash.”

“Oh joy, how exciting.” Steve sighed, shaking his head. “Better grab the big trash can with you, then.”

Bucky ate quickly, practically inhaling his food, Steve’s horrified yet begrudgingly impressed expression unintentionally encouraging him to finish faster.

“Okay!” He clapped his hands together, returning to the living room after placing their plates in the sink. “So, clothes aren’t actually the exciting part. Wanda says the good stuff is easier to find online -“

“You’re getting more?” Steve asked, shocked, eyeing the dozen or so overflowing bags scattered across the floor and coffee table.

“That’s not all clothes,” Bucky waved a hand dismissively (besides, Steve couldn’t talk with his giant closet filled with clothes).

He swiftly scanned the pile, thankful the one he needed was easy to spot. Bucky slipped into the blue peacoat and gave a little twirl, holding his arms out wide when he stopped to face Steve. “Check out this coat, though, isn’t it nice?”

Steve’s eyes widened in recognition. “Oh… umm, yeah, looks good, Bucky. Like it’ll be really warm when winter comes.”

Bucky hadn’t been thinking about cold weather when he bought it, not by a long shot. “Yeah.” He dropped his arms, hesitated, but then decided to go with it. “It’s a lot like my old one, right?”

“You remember?” Steve asked, tone cautious but hopeful as he stared at Bucky in front of him.

“Course,” he smoothly lied (though technically past-Bucky had told him and that counts since he lives in his head; Bucky may have also seen a replica at the Smithsonian if they were gonna be honest, which he wasn’t).

Steve grabbed another bag off the floor as Bucky took off the coat, the blonde’s eyes slightly damp as he ruffled through its contents. “Think you forgot to give this to Peter…why are you buying gaming consoles for the kids?”

sh*t, he should have put them in his room last night while Steve was in the shower.

‘Hobbies!’ past-Bucky shrilly suggested.

Wait, yes, okay, he could roll with this. “Peter has one already. That one is mine, and Wanda got one so we can all play together. They said they’ll teach me. It’s a hobby that modern people have.”

‘Remind me again why we are going to practice shooting people on this device instead of shooting them in real life? Or at least shooting at the firing range?’ Winter complained… again.

‘We’ll do both,’ he assured his murderous past-self. ‘Well, the range part, not shooting people in real life unless it’s absolutely necessary.’

Winter sighed mournfully. ‘Sounds fake, but okay. Hopefully in these games you won’t have to clean your weapons, otherwise you will lose every time.’ (Bucky internally winced at that, because, damn, he had a point.)

Steve’s brows furrowed, making him look like a confused puppy. “But why do you each have a console if they’re going to teach you how to play? I don’t understand how that works.”

Bucky frowned, realizing his friend had really closed himself off from a lot of aspects of modern life. “We use these,” he explained, pulling out gaming headphones from a different bag. “And with the internet, I don’t know how it all works but it does, we can talk on the headsets and our screens will show the same game, even if we’re across the world from each other.”

“Huh,” Steve remarked, staring down in awe at the device. “I guess I’ll understand once you set it all up.”

“You mean when the kids come to set it up,” he corrected with a laugh, not even bothering to pretend like he would be doing any of the work. “And I got an extra controller so we can play together, too.”

“That’s real considerate of you, Buck, thank you. I look forward to it,” Steve beamed, his blue eyes sparkling, and Bucky suddenly found himself developing chest pains, good lord.

“Um, yeah, ‘course, no worries,” he stuttered, ducking his head back down to search through his bags. (Bucky made a promise to himself right there that he would never cut his hair shorter than shoulder length ever again, because it was so f*cking useful to shield his heated face anytime Steve did something like that again, holy f*ck.)

‘I want to make fun of you so bad,’ past-Bucky admitted, chuckling. ‘But also… I get it, pal. It doesn’t get any easier as time goes on either.’

‘Gee, thanks for that,’ Bucky sarcastically replied.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll make fun of you instead,’ Winter gleefully added. ‘Your flushed face can be seen from space, and no, your hair does not hide it.’

‘Winter. Be. Nice!’ past-Bucky hissed.

‘No,’ Winter calmly remarked. (Bucky forcibly tuned their squabbling out, focusing his attention back on Steve.)

“You know, I feel like young people like them should have been the ones to introduce us old folk into modern life,” Steve chuckled, tossing his head back onto the couch and staring up at the ceiling. “Prolly would have been easier to understand than the stupid SHIELD packets I suffered through.”

“Oh jeez,” Bucky cringed at the thought. “Could you imagine how many different things Peter could talk about in an hour-long class? Your two brain cells would have exploded.”

Steve sat up and threw a wadded up receipt at his face (which Bucky masterfully dodged, of course). “Jerk.”

“Punk,” Bucky quipped back to Steve’s delight.

“Okay, show me more,” Steve directed while pulling his phone out of his pocket and swiping the screen open.

Bucky eagerly grabbed the largest bag off the floor and unpacked its contents onto the coffee table; this was the second best find of the day, besides the vintage peacoat, and he couldn’t wait to see Steve’s reaction. “I got this camera, and it came with a photo printer, how cool is that, Stevie?! We can print all kinds of stuff right away, don’t need to leave the apartment at all.”

“That’s nice, Buck,” Steve said, not looking up; his eyes were glued to his phone as he started typing out a message.

Bucky bristled, his nostrils flaring at the brush off.

“Also got this photo collage holder, thought maybe we could put it in the living room and fill it up with the pictures we take?” he asked hopefully, holding up the eight-picture wooden frame in question. (He wanted to get the biggest one they had, but the kids talked him down from it since they had no way to carry it home with their arms already overladen with bags.)

“Anything you want,” Steve agreed, still typing and scrolling away on his phone.

If he’s talking to that f*cking Falcon guy, Bucky swears on his son’s life he will yeet that f*cking phone out of the window so quickly, Steve won’t even know what the f*ck just happened. (The kids had started teaching him modern slang words, and ‘yeet’ was by far his favorite).

Bucky clenched his jaw in frustration, rage simmering through his entire body. He carefully placed the photo holder down so as not to break it accidentally. “What I want, Steve ,” he growled, voice steadily rising, “is for YOU to pay attention to ME and not whoever is on your GOD DAMN f*ckING PHONE!”

Steve finally looked up, his mouth dropping open, and his stunned expression made Bucky replay the incident in his head… oh, yikes.

He clasped his hands behind his back, idly dragging his toe across the carpet. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, ashamed. “I don’t know where that came from.”

God, f*ck, how embarrassing, good lord

‘Well, Steve should always pay attention to us over anything else,’ Winter stated, taking Bucky’s side for once. ‘We are superior.’

“Hey, come here,” Steve gently called, patting the space on the sofa next to him.

Bucky cautiously took the seat on his left, and Steve laced his hand through Bucky’s flesh one, giving it a firm squeeze but not letting it go. “You demanding I pay attention to you is one of the staples of our friendship, since pretty much the beginning.”

‘We will not be shamed,’ past-Bucky sniffed haughtily.

“Well, you should always pay attention to me,” he sniffed, similar to how his original self had done as a child, teen, and then adult; Bucky knew even Winter would wear the same expression if Steve could see him now with his Hydra programming gone. “But I shouldn’t have shouted at you, I’m sorry.”

Steve smiled fondly, running his thumb soothingly across Bucky’s knuckles. “Used to that as well. But I wasn’t talking to anyone,” he shifted nervously, piquing Bucky’s interest… and anxiety. “I was looking at my bank account.”

“Okay…” he hummed, not following. “Did someone rob you? I always said those cards were finicky, can’t really trust them. Always better to see the cash itself and not some digital money.”

“People don’t carry cash that often,” Steve said, dodging the question. “And everything you bought was paid for in cash, it’s listed on each receipt. There’s at least three thousand dollars worth of stuff here, Buck, and it doesn’t include what you bought the kids since only your stuff is on the receipt.”

He had to admit, he didn’t think Steve would catch him on this, which was naïve of him; Steve got used to people underestimating him early and tended to hide his intelligence.

“And you didn’t use my card. Which is fine, but I just… where did you get the money?”

He seemed like he was bracing himself for the answer…did he think Bucky robbed a bank?! Jeez, the trust is real here, buddy.

“Do you think I robbed a f*ckin bank or something?” Oh f*ck, word vomit is contagious. “Because I didn’t.”

“No!” Steve vehemently denied, shaking his head.

Bucky shot him a pointed look, and the blonde amended with a sheepish smile, “Okay, it crossed my mind, but I know Peter would never go with that.”

Bucky ripped his hand from Steve’s, legitimately offended at this point. “Okay, I see how it is-“

“Not that I think you would, either!!”

“Sure.”

“No, seriously, ugh,” Steve groaned, frowning. “I know you wouldn’t. But just… last night you said you had a life before coming here, and that included living things, which could be people. Or a person. Or -“

Bucky rolled his eyes at the explanation. “You are overthinking this. I raided smaller Hydra cells for a while, took any cash from there or nearby safe houses, and then stashed it in different places. Hence, shopping money.”

“Oh,” Steve sighed, some tension melting off his shoulders. “How much do you think you gathered in total?”

“Close to a million, I think,” Bucky replied honestly, ignoring Steve’s sharp intake of breath. “But it’s dirty money, and I’m not just gonna keep it all, so…” he paused, considering, then just decided telling the truth (at least part of it) was better than whatever scenario Steve would create in that big giant head of his. “I made a friend during that year, and they make sporadic anonymous donations with some of the cash to various charities we agreed on - ones not run by Hydra, as far as we know.”

“That’s great, Bucky, that’s a real good thing to do,” Steve praised, but Bucky sensed the impending interrogation and decided to cut it off before it began.

“Look, I’m sorry Steve, but I’m not ready to talk about that year yet.” He fiddled nervously with his fingers, unsure how well Steve would accept his questions going unanswered. “I promise, I’ll tell you one of these days, but… it was a hard time, and I can’t -“

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Bucky,” Steve assured soothingly, cautiously reaching for his hand again, and Bucky allowed the other Super Soldier to entwine their fingers together. “You can tell me when you’re ready, and if that never happens, then that’s okay, too. I know we lived in each other’s pockets back in the day, but we still kept things from each other sometimes.”

‘Meaning Steve kept things from us,’ past-Bucky grumbled. ‘I can think of one thing, oops, two things we never told him, and that’s it.’

“I suppose it’s fair I finally keep things from you now, since I know past me sure as hell didn’t,” he laughed, playfully bumping his shoulder into Steve’s.

Steve scoffed, lightly smacking Bucky’s leg. “I can think of a few times you dodged my questions, don’t get all high and mighty now.”

‘What did we keep from him, besides the main thing we ain’t gonna speak about?’ he asked his former-self.

‘Nothing terrible, but now's not the best time to revisit that memory,’ past-Bucky cringed. ‘Upon further reflection, Steve might actually be right about us dodging questions somewhat often.’

Oh boy.

“You just wait, pal… when more of my memories come back, I’m gonna have questions, and I expect answers, ya hear me?”

“Can’t wait,” Steve winced, causing Bucky to flick him on the side of the head.

“Now, it’s time to get to work, Rogers. You promised me you’d help cut the tags off my new stuff, so hop to it.”

“When I said I’d help, I assumed you would also be doing some of the work,” Steve complained, both hands on his hips as he stood in the middle of the floor, Bucky’s entire new wardrobe strewn around him in Steve’s typical pattern of organized chaos.

“Well,” Bucky drawled, refusing to look up from his device. His feet were propped casually on the coffee table, the rest of his body comfortably nestled into the couch. “I did. I got that laundry basket for you, and you didn’t use it. Sorry you can’t appreciate my hard work, bud.”

Bucky kept his eyes resolutely on his phone, allowing himself to sneak glances only when Steve wasn’t looking. He wanted to become a real, independent person again, sure, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever wanna live a life where he doesn’t get all warm and flustered by Steve doing things for him.

‘It’s all about balance,’ past-Bucky grinned.

‘We should be doing stuff for him, not the other way around,’ Winter disagreed. ‘How does this serve the mission purpose?’

‘Steve loves doing stuff for us, it makes him feel good, do you not pay attention?’ past-Bucky argued back, and Bucky sighed, tuning out the rest of his former-selves’ bickering.

He wasn’t just pretending to be busy, though. He alternated between messaging Wanda and Caleb; Wanda, about the ‘surprise’ she bought him, and Caleb about his cat family and when they could get together again.

“You’re the f*ckin worst, good lord.” Steve threw his hands up in resignation.

When Bucky didn’t respond, Steve chucked a random shirt in his direction, making a frustrated noise low in the back of his throat when Bucky caught it with his metal hand, flesh hand continuing to type flawlessly on the device.

“I want you to pay attention to me and not whoever is on your goddamn phone ,” Steve mimicked him, tone light to show he was only teasing.

“Jeez, you’re demanding today,” Bucky rolled his eyes, secretly pleased by the attention. He pocketed his phone and began shuffling around the room, picking up the now tag-free clothes and tossing them into the basket. “Good work, soldier, real proud of ya.”

“Oh gee, thanks, how kind of you to get off your ass right as I finish,” Steve laughed, sliding the laundry basket into the elevator where Friday would make sure it got to the assistants who were responsible for that sort of thing. “What are you up to, today? I don’t have any meetings until later, if you wanna try and watch Tangled this morning?”

“Nah, I can’t today,” he called behind him, walking into his room. “I’m gonna fix this atrocious hair and then spend some time with Wanda.”

Steve trailed behind him, taking a cautious seat on the corner of Bucky’s bed like he thought Bucky would yell at him for being there.

Bucky slightly dampened his hair in the sink and then, using his flesh hand, smoothed a dollop of leave-in conditioner into his hair, being sure to pay extra attention to the ends. He felt Steve’s gaze on him as he was combing the conditioner through his hair and brought his eyes up in the mirror so he didn’t have to turn around to talk to him.

“What?” Bucky asked, confused upon seeing Steve’s small pout, his friend’s posture slumped.

Steve immediately straightened upon being caught. “Nothing, nothing. Do you need help?”

“I can do my own hair, thank you,” he brushed off, suddenly feeling as if he needed to prove himself with this; they both know he could have taken the tags off his own clothes, but styling his hair required a more delicate touch that made having a metal hand more of a hindrance than usual.

“Buck, I know you can. I’ve seen you throw your hair up into all kinds of different up-dos since you’ve been here… I just…” he bit his lip, hesitant. “I just like helping you with things, I’m sorry if I offended you.”

Past-Bucky showed him an onslaught of snippets from different memories; his oldest sister screaming because he didn’t do her braid right; his middle sister crying being he did her pigtails uneven; his youngest sister sobbing, clutching Bucky’s leg and begging for Stevie to come over because he always made their hair look nicer than any other girls’ in the neighborhood.

Bucky sighed, deflating. “You helped my sisters before school and church, didn’t you? All three of them, cuz Ma would be too busy to do all of theirs.”

Steve’s fond smile sent Bucky’s heart fluttering. “Maybe it was because you didn’t have long hair back then, but you hated doing theirs.”

“You got the artsy genes, not me, pal.” He picked the comb back up, using it to point at his friend, voice firm. “But fine, you can help, only if you do it exactly how I want, though.”

Steve brightened, quickly joining him in the bathroom. Fortunately, Stark designed rooms were extra spacious, but they ran into a major problem immediately; Steve could reach Bucky’s hair thanks to his major growth spurt with the serum, but he couldn’t see over his friend’s head to monitor his progress.

“Still too short, Stevie,” Bucky cackled upon seeing his friend’s puzzled frown in the mirror.

“This would be a fine setup if I knew you wouldn’t fuss at me until it was absolutely perfect,” Steve complained, poking Bucky in the side and making the brunette jump. “Got an idea, hold on.”

Steve hurried out of the room, returning briskly with one of the stools from their breakfast bar.

“Those two brain cells of yours are working hard today, I see,” Bucky smirked, elegantly arranging himself onto the stool, his posture immaculate and hands resting lightly on his thighs; he didn’t even flinch when Steve lightly boxed his ears for his sassy comment.

Bucky explained the desired final look; the sides of his hair pulled up over the top into a fluffy bun in the middle of his head, with the back left down in loose waves.

“That’s it?” Steve skeptically asked, squinting at Bucky in the mirror. “I really thought you would have me here braiding your hair back for hours just to be ornery.”

“Tempting, but we’re on a time schedule,” he distractedly answered, leaning forward and rifling through a few drawers before pulling out two different combs and a black elastic hair tie. “Chop chop.”

“Yes, your majesty,” Steve rolled his eyes, but his smile was broad. “Gonna comb through your hair first, if that’s okay?”

Bucky waved hand, unconcerned. He closed his eyes, preparing himself to take a cat nap so he wouldn’t make his friend nervous by staring him down in the mirror, absentmindedly pulling his sweater sleeves down to cover his hands. “Do whatever, don’t need a play-by-play. I trust you.”

“Oh. I’m glad.” Bucky didn’t even need to open an eye to know Steve had one of those raw emotional expressions he seemed to wear when he thought Bucky wasn’t looking. Not pity, per se, but an ever changing landscape of heartbreak, guilt, contentment, fondness, and fear.

Bucky realized, belatedly, that having Wanda or Caleb style his hair was an entirely different experience than one Steve Rogers doing it. The youngest two were proficient in his customary bun styles (top of the head, middle, or base of the neck and either tight or loose depending on his mood), and they were also efficient . Meaning, he would have been out of the apartment by now if they were involved.

But Steve? Well... Bucky wasn’t even mad about how long it was taking, because having Steve comb his hair and then run his fingers through it after to smooth it down was heaven .

Tension seeped away from his muscles, his jaw relaxed, and he felt like he was positively melting. His mind, usually full of nonstop chatter, anxiety, and self doubt, was silent; he thinks he finally understands what it means to be ‘zen’.

He let out a blissful sigh.

“Does this feel good?” Steve asked as he gently scratched Bucky’s scalp, his voice an octave or two lower than normal.

“Never f*ckin stop, pal,” he quietly begged, wishing he could feel like this forever. He spread his legs a bit more to balance properly on the stool, scooting back slightly he could press his back firmly into Steve’s broad chest.

“Buck…” Steve swallowed. Paused. “Never knew you were such a cat,” he teased, but didn’t stop.

“I’m a cat,” Bucky mumbled, almost incoherent to someone without enhanced hearing. “With no bones. You know what that’s called, Stevie?” He didn’t wait for Steve to answer. “It’s a cat… I’m a cat.”

“Wow,” Steve quietly laughed, not used to seeing Bucky so… loose.

Steve began trailing his hands downwards, massaging the top part of Bucky’s neck where it connected to his skull with strong, circular motions using his thumb, before bringing his hands back up to continue soothing movements on his scalp.

They continued like that for a while, with Bucky making quiet, pleased mewls every now and then, and Steve focusing his attention on Bucky’s neck, jaw, and scalp.

“You asleep?” Steve eventually asked, voice low so as not to startle his friend.

“M’dead.”

“Oh that’s a pity, I guess I can stop now?” Steve had the audacity to lift his hands halfway out of Bucky’s now exceptionally messy hair.

“It’s a miracle, m’alive.” He tossed a hand up. “Woo.”

Nothing happened.

Bucky irritably cracked an eye open, making eye contact with a smirking Steve. “Don’t stop, please ?”

He arranged his lips into a pout for added measure.

“I’ve created a monster,” Steve teased, wrinkling his nose, but thankfully began again (it said something about how buzzed Bucky felt that he let a perfectly good opportunity for a Hydra joke go by).

Bucky closed his eyes again, almost shivering with anticipation. He readjusted on the stool, dropping his legs wider and attempting to push himself impossibly flusher against Steve’s chest.

“How do you have such thick hair?” Steve asked a bit later. Or an hour later… Bucky had no idea how much time passed, but it felt like not enough.

“To spite you, probably.”

Steve was in the middle of replying when his fingers got caught in one of Bucky’s curls, accidentally tugging his hair roughly.

Bucky gave a low, unexpected moan of pleasure. He tensed slightly, a bit embarrassed by his unconscious response, mostly fearful of how Steve would react.

“… oh,” Steve choked out.

Steve wrapped his fingers around a small chunk of hair at the base of Bucky’s scalp and gave a light experimental tug.

“f*ck,” Bucky groaned, back arching before he returned it flush against Steve’s chest. “Use both hands and do that again.”

Steve’s breath hitched, but he complied, gliding his hands teasingly up and down across his scalp a few more times before grabbing two small sections of hair on each side of his head and giving a slightly harsher pull backwards.

Bucky sharply inhaled. “Wow. That’s… good, real good.”

“Yeah?” Steve asked, voice thick and unsteady.

Steve used his left hand to gather a handful of hair at the base of his head. He slowly slid his right hand down Bucky’s scalp, briefly tracing over his ear, which f*ck, felt soo good, and then ghosted his hand down the front of Bucky’s throat (which surprisingly didn’t freak him out, probably he was too gone to care, and he trusts).

Steve’s fingers began running lightly across his chest as his left hand gave a sharper tug, pulling Bucky’s head back with it.

Bucky’s moan was guttural, low in his throat, but muted enough to not be crass (at least he hoped).

“f*ck,” Steve murmured, almost a whisper. A bit louder, “You like that, Buck?”

Bucky swallowed and was about to respond, hopefully with something semi-coherent, but a thundering pulsating noise shattered the moment, the unexpected sound causing Bucky to jerk away. He knocked over the stool in his haste to crouch low on the ground, his muscles coiled and eyes darting as he searched for the source of the disturbance.

“It’s okay, Bucky.” Steve lifted his hands placatingly, his own heart hammering in his chest. “It was just your phone vibrating on the counter from a call.”

Bucky’s blood pounded in his ears, his chest rising and falling sharply; the ex-assassin remained poised to strike for several moments, his mind shutting down as his instincts took over.

“I think it’s Wanda,” Steve spoke quietly, trying to give Bucky something else to focus on besides the panic in his veins. “She’s probably wondering where you are.”

f*ck, that’s right, he was actually going somewhere before all… that happened. He suddenly found himself feeling intensely uncomfortable, unable to meet Steve’s shy but persistent gaze.

“I need to go,” he mumbled, eyes looking everywhere but at the frowning man. He grabbed a hair tie off the counter, pocketed his now blessedly silent phone, and fled the bathroom.

“Bucky! Wait!” Steve called, hurrying to catch up with his friend who was already out of sight.

Bucky found himself unable to ignore his instincts after such a radical shift in emotions; instead of taking the elevator or stairs, places where he could potentially run into another Avenger, he soundlessly jumped onto the breakfast bar and shimmied completely into the air vent before Steve reached the living room.

Holding his breath, he watched Steve immediately rush to the elevator, pause, turn towards the stairwell door, pause, and then repeat the dance several times until finally giving up and punching the wall by the elevator. Bucky rolled his eyes with exasperated fondness as Steve shook his hand, face scrunched in pain.

Bucky silently turned around in the vent and began making his way to Wanda’s room.

[TeamDad]: hey munchkin, running out for some errands. need anything?

[TheLittlePrincess]: why must you and Natasha ruin my usernames? It was hard to make them all perfectly themed

[TheLittlePrincess]: also, yes, hold on, i have a list

[TeamDad]: it might be a competition… u know, spy sh*t (⌐▨_▨)

[TheLittlePrincess]: i pretend i do not see (◡_◡✿)

[TheLittlePrincess]: ok i need - 1 brown wig, some hair lightener, hair dye gloves, black dye, dark blue dye, purple dye, conditioner, mixing bowls, and an electric razor for hair cutting… i’ll send links so u don’t have to guess

[TeamDad]: (⚆ᗝ⚆)

[TeamDad]: do i want to know?

[TheLittlePrincess]: i am an artist, and james is my medium

[TeamDad]: i will get double of everything

[TheLittlePrincess]: (❣•‿•❣)

Bucky made short work of the journey, having already mapped the entirety of the ventilation system during his many sleepless nights on Steve’s floor when he first moved in.

As he got closer to his destination, he stopped, and expanded his senses to make sure the witch was alone; his emotions were a mess , and he didn’t want to deal with anyone’s scrutiny over his travel methods (including Winter’s, who had been blessedly silent so far).

Wanda was alone, curled on her side on the couch, casting worried glances at the silent phone on the side table. Bucky sheepishly tapped on the grate (he might be an emotional wreck, but he had manners , okay).

She jerked her head in the direction of the noise, standing up in alarm, but let out an audible sigh as Bucky gracefully landed barefoot in her living room.

“Sorry, I’m late,” he apologized meekly, hands shoved nervously in his pockets.

“Where were you!? I was worried -“

She cut herself off upon taking in his appearance; his hair was frizzy and out of control, his gray eyes skittish, and there was an unusual flush to his skin that likely hadn’t come from skulking through the vents.

He pursed his lips, unable to look at her. “How do you feel about… murder, between friends?”

“Depends on the occasion,” she warily responded.

He threw himself face down on the sofa, turning his head to the side so he could speak.

“How about the occasion where I embarrassed myself to such epic proportions, I will never be able to look Steve in the eye again? Or be in the same room? Or… exist on the same planet without wanting to die.”

‘It was a unique emotional experience at least,’ past-Bucky tried to cheer him up. ‘Never really had enough hair to warrant Steve’s “help” in styling before.’

‘Guess it’s time to shave it off.’

‘No,’ Winter denied, providing no further explanation, but Bucky assumed it was because the remnants of the Winter Soldier like the added dramatic effect the long hair afforded them.

“You are so dramatic, I’m sure it was not that bad. Hmm… I hear Thor is coming back soon, perhaps he can take you into space with him?”

“If only,” he sighed wistfully. Not only was Thor insanely attractive, and apparently hilarious, but he was a literal god and alien from actual space , and Bucky will likely combust if he ever meets the other Avenger.

Wanda unsympathetically sat on the middle of his back, propping her feet up on the coffee table.

“Well… how about you come into my room and let me fix that rat's nest on your head, and you can tell me the entire terrible saga before I show you why I invited you here?”

“Mmkay,” he groaned, but made no effort to move.

“Move,” she commanded, brutally flicking his ear.

“Ow, jeez woman, stop hanging out with Natasha before you become her mini-me.” (How she managed to dig her knee into his spine as she got up, he will never know.)

‘This is why we like men,’ past-Bucky flippantly remarked, and Bucky had to hide his grin at the comment.

Bucky compliantly arranged himself onto the corner of her bed, letting her finish combing his tangled hair into an adequate bun on the top of his head before spilling the entire morning’s drama to the increasingly amused witch.

“Wow,” she whistled, her smile wide at his despair. “I was annoyed you were taking so long, but now I actually feel bad.”

“Gahhh,” he groaned, grabbing one of her many pillows and snuggling it into his chest. “What am I going to do?”

“What would past-you normally do?”

‘Pal… can’t say I’ve ever had such an experience like that, but typically with… arguments? Steve would avoid us completely or pretend the issue never existed until we chased him down and either made him confront it head on or we’d apologize til it goes away. Never really had a situation where we were too embarrassed to be around him.’

“No idea, he says he was never embarrassed to be around him, but Steve tends to either literally avoid arguments by running away or would just pretend like it didn’t happen.”

“Hmm,” she tilted her head, considering. “What do you want to do?”

“Die,” he answered breezily.

She smacked his leg way harder than necessary. “Death is not an option in this scenario. You know you are always welcome to stay here, I do not mind.”

‘NO,’ Winter growled, once again, providing no further explanation, but Bucky didn’t need one for this topic anyways; the mission couldn’t be completed if they were avoiding the Mission Target because of something as silly and useless as emotions.

“I appreciate it, thank you. But I think… I think I can’t avoid him for more than a few hours? We spent so much time apart, it makes me feel nauseous to purposely keep myself away from him at this point, especially if I’m reading way too into this, and it’s not even on his radar.”

“I understand. I think you should just play it by ear, and see what happens,” Wanda suggested. “Maybe you can subtly flirt a bit, but no matter what you choose, work to keep an open-mind. This Steve is different from your memory’s, and he may surprise you.”

‘Can we handle surprises? Do we want to be surprised?’ he asked the others.

Past-Bucky shrugged. ‘What is it that the kids say… Yolo?’

‘Thanks, man, really helpful. Also, we’ve lived more than once, technically, so how could that even apply here?’ (He screamed internally when past-Bucky just shrugged again, and Winter, for once, didn’t have an opinion to offer).

“If only Hydra could see their feared Winter Soldier now,” he joked, pretending to gag.

Her melodic laugh made him feel a teeny bit better, loving how their somewhat dark senses of humor complemented each other.

“They would be simply… aghast. Emotions? Ew.” She shuddered. “But also, f*ck Hydra.”

“f*ck Hydra,” he agreed, bumping his flesh fist into hers in solidarity.

“Now, are you ready to see what I bought you?”

“Of course,” he perked up. “I love gifts, even if my own hard-stolen money was used to purchase it.”

“If only Peter and I had known that yesterday,” she quipped, rolling her eyes. “Here.”

She used her magic to pick up a small package on her nightstand and floated it over to his outstretched hand.

“Facial jewelry?” he asked, curiously examining the contents through the clear packaging.

“Fake ones! So you can get an idea of what you like before we break out the needle guns.”

“Oooh, you’re the best,” he grinned widely, touched by her thoughtfulness.

“Tony Stark is not the only genius in this building,” she teased, tossing her hair over her shoulder with faux-haughtiness.

“You are most humble, today, my lady,” he replied in his best posh accent, finding their familiar banter soothing some of his previous worries.

Opening the package, he carefully spilled the different pieces onto his hand. Bucky stared at the different shaped rings in confusion, not really sure what to do next.

“Help,” he pouted, turning his puppy dog eyes on her (an expression he might have picked up from Steve over the years, oops).

“Here, give me that one,” she pointed to a circular one. “Do you want to try your nose first? Or an eyebrow? Might not look exactly like the real thing, but it’ll give us an idea of what to do next.”

“Not picky, pierce away,” he truthfully shrugged, closing his eyes in anticipation; he trusted Wanda.

The witch scooted closer to Bucky so they sat cross-legged across from one another, knees touching. She pushed the jewelry into his right nostril, and holy sh*t, this is why he has trust issues.

‘What the f*ck,’ Winter hissed, annoyed by the sudden unexpected pain. ‘This is dumb. I hate it, and we’ve been tortured for f*cking decades, and this is the worst. By far. Make it stop!’

“Owww,” he whined, fanning his nose which suddenly stung, a hundred percent agreeing with Winter’s assessment. “And this is the fake version?! What the f*ck would the real one feel like? Do you have a mirror?”

She shook her head, eyeing him critically, and then pointed to his metal hand.

He critiqued his reflection in the polished metal. “It doesn’t even look good, why does it hurt!?”

She giggled at his antics. “You are such a baby, it cannot be that bad.”

He blinked away the wetness in his eyes caused by the sharp pinch. “I mean, I’ve certainly had worse, but still, this is pure suffering. Can you take it out, please?”

Wanda moved closer, ignoring his grumbled protests as she gently tugged the ring out. “Okay, so… not that one. How about you tell me a funny story while I try a couple more?”

‘I got this,’ past-Bucky cackled ominously, offering the perfect story to Bucky.

“Did you know Steve once set our neighborhood church on fire? And then blamed it on demons, and people believed him?”

Wanda gasped, pausing with another ring halfway up to his face. “Oh my god, no he didn’t, Steve Rogers? Captain America Steve Rogers?”

“Oh, sweetie, no,” Bucky playfully chastised, ruefully shaking his head. “He may seem like the all-American, boy-next-door, never-done-anything-wrong type, but little Stevie Rogers was mischievous as all else.”

He launched into the story while Wanda continued to meticulously stick different fake jewelry rings all over his face, able to ignore the pain because he was so involved in recounting his tale.

They were seven or eight at the time, walking dutifully to church a couple yards ahead of Bucky’s folks, when Steve had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to fiddle with his shoe. Bucky, naively, stopped to wait for him, not thinking anything of it.

They arrived to service early, and Bucky’s parents allowed the two boys to go inside and claim a pew while they chatted with their neighbors outside.

“Buck, look what I found.”

Steve pulled a perfectly intact matchbook out of his pants pocket, staring at Bucky proudly. Turns out, there had been nothing wrong with his shoe, but he used the distraction to grab a fallen matchbox off the ground.

“Where’d you get that?” Bucky demanded, twisting to look around and make sure no one saw them. Neither Bucky nor Steve were allowed to use matches on their own yet, unless it was an emergency…something about not being responsible enough or whatever.

“I found it on the ground a few blocks back,” he shrugged dismissively. “Bet I can light one before you.”

Bucky snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah, pal? Doubt you’ve ever lit one in your life.”

“And like you have?” Steve drawled, peering up to eye Bucky skeptically.

“Course,” he lied, trying to impress his friend. “Few times, when Ma said I could.”

“Okay, then, guess you’ll have no problem lighting it, so how about this - whoever can hold a lit one the longest wins, and you better count fair, or else.”

“Fine, but you better wait your turn. One match, three tries to light it. Then, the next one uses a new match, even if they didn’t get a flicker.”

“Deal. Shake on it.”

It took each of them a few matches before they could get a spark - Bucky was the first to do so, and he was so stunned that he snuffed it out before Steve could count past ‘one.’

Bucky should have known by his friend’s hardened expression that all hell would soon break loose… Steve hated losing.

“So, he finally lights his match, holds it until the flame licks his fingers because he was always too stubborn for his own good, screams, and then throws it behind him… where of course, it lands on one of the curtains and sends the whole thing up in flames.”

Wanda stopped trying to put rings on his face, too busy howling in laughter to do much of anything else.

“What… what happened next?” she choked, dabbing a few tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Well, we hightailed it out of there, screaming our heads off. I was ready just to admit I did it and take the beating, but of course, Steve’s always been the creative one.”

“Demons?” she giggled, co*cking an eyebrow.

“Yep,” he affirmed, wincing as she collected herself and started pulling the rings off his face. “Still don’t know how anyone believed it, but he’s wailing about hearing weird noises and seeing some shadows, and then suddenly the curtains are in flames, and a spark got on his hand and burned his finger.”

“Noooo, I can’t even picture it!”

“I told you!” he exclaimed, raising his hands in exasperation. “He was the demon if anything. Started sniffling about the church being possessed, claiming it was likely cuz people weren’t being kind to one another, and the Devil sent his minions to punish us all.”

“Holy sh*t, he didn’t!” she snickered, her skin flushed from all the laughter.

“He did, past-Bucky swears it. Who was gonna doubt this poor, frail sickly kid crying with no father? Even back then he had a reputation for being a good kid, always managing to dodge getting in trouble by using his wits. Not only did we get away with it, but our entire neighborhood suddenly started donating items to the orphanages and volunteering in soup kitchens for months in an attempt to get back in God’s good graces.”

He paused, thinking harder on the memory past-Bucky had shown him. “They let us stay home, though, said we’d done our part by letting them know and suffering for their sins.”

“Can I see?” she hesitantly asked, giving her fingers a little wiggle. “Gotta say, I’m not sure how much of that I actually believe.”

“Go for it,” he readily agreed. He liked telling the story, but it was a nice bonus that she could use her powers to watch the memory herself - it was kind of like she was there too as a silent observer. “I ain’t clever enough to make up a story that good.”

“Oh my,” she cried after she finished viewing the memory. “If I hadn’t seen the previous moments, I would have thought he was truthful, too.”

“Did you see that little smug smirk after? And then he looked me square in the eye and said, ‘Looks like I win.’”

“I don’t think I can ever look at him the same.” Wanda admitted, using a hand to fan her reddened face. “Wait, okay, this is the last one.”

She shuffled onto her knees and leaned forward, lightly gripping his chin with one hand, and the ring in the other. She found herself struggling to get the last new ring to attach to his lip, though, and moved her face even closer to figure out why it wouldn’t stay on. “Stupid, f*cking -“

“Hey, Wanda,” Vision greeted, entering the room by flying through the wall.

She let out a small, startled scream, losing her balance and tipping forward the last few inches into Bucky’s face, the Super Soldier barely catching her before they could bump heads.

“Viz! We talked about this.”

“Oh, oh my, I am so sorry, Wanda, the door was open, but I should have -“

Bucky discreetly deposited the jewelry into his pocket. “It’s fine, pal, no harm done. I was just about to leave anyway. Catch you later, Wanda?”

“Yeah, sure,” she agreed. She anxiously chewed on her lip before catching herself and giving him a fleeting smile and a wave.

He made a hasty retreat back to his floor, but not before hearing Vision ‘casually’ ask the witch what they were doing.

“Oh, he was going to let me practice my makeup skills on him, but I was trying to decide if I wanted to pluck his eyebrows or fill them in, you know? Some people look better with thick eyebrows, others with thin. It can be very complex.”

After Bucky left, Steve was at a loss.

He knew Natasha said the Winter Soldier was a ghost story for decades but he never understood the gravity of what that meant until Bucky literally disappeared within seconds of being out of Steve’s line of sight. He hadn’t heard the ding of the elevator or the telltale sound of the heavy door to the staircase opening, yet Bucky was completely gone - Steve even peered out the window, but there was no sign of Bucky anywhere .

He ran a hand down his face, unsure of what to do next. He knew he should give Bucky space, and he didn’t have the faintest idea of what he would say after… all of that. Which had been…no. Steve couldn’t even think about it without his cheeks lighting in flames.

He pulled out his phone, too shaken by this morning’s drama to find comfort in his own head at the moment.

[CaptainAdorable]: Nat, are you home?

[CaptainAdorable]: Also Captain Adorable… really?

[LadyWidow]: Yes, I’m home. Also it was either this or The Chosen One / The Dark Widow

[CaptainAdorable]: I somehow get that reference and you’re a nerd

[LadyWidow]: ( ＾◡＾)っ✂❤

[LadyWidow]: and yes you can come over, I know you’re too nice to ask

[LadyWidow]: bring food tho

“Do you believe in hell?” Steve questioned the moment the elevator opened and deposited him on Natasha’s floor, a box of fresh powdered donuts tucked under his arm along with the elegant tea tin he kept stashed for emergency bribes.

Natasha was tucked neatly into the hanging bubble chair in the corner of the living room, and Steve vaguely wondered how it was even possible for her to get up that high… and then wondered if maybe he should get something like that for Bucky - it seemed like something his friend would enjoy reading in, especially since the chair would give him the perfect view of the living room and kitchen.

The female Avenger slid to the edge of the chair and agilely dropped the ten feet or so to the floor in front of Steve, and it took everything in his willpower not to reach out to catch the petite woman, knowing deep down that wouldn’t have gone over well.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are we having a discussion about our religious beliefs or are you having an existential crisis which will lead up to you telling me a very unrelated story about what’s actually bothering you?”

He paused, wondering if she was a mind reader, spying on him, or just knew him really well.

“The second one,” he sighed, slumping in defeat. No use coming here if he wasn’t going to be honest. “I am, if I understand Peter’s use of the term correctly, ‘trapped in a glass case of emotion.’

“Okay, and I am here for you,” she sympathized, giving Steve a small, kind smile. “But first, let me get the vodka, please hold…”

She padded into the kitchen, swiping the tea tin out of his arms on her way to her secret alcohol stash (not in the air vent, of course, she wasn’t a rookie).

“Also, seriously Steve, feel free to take a seat, don’t know why you always act like you’re a guest of a highly respected official every time you come here.”

“Because, I have manners , Natasha,” he breezily explained, gingerly taking a seat on her expensive looking sofa. “I’m also wary of your furniture since I know you stash weapons everywhere, and for the record, you know I can’t get drunk.”

“But I can!” she sang from the kitchen. “Also, you’re tremendously naïve if you think Barnes didn’t stash an armory in and around your apartment the second he got there and you turned your back.”

Steve rubbed his chin in thought….he hadn’t found any weapons so far, but he guessed that didn’t mean much since he wasn’t trained in spycraft...at all. “Perhaps. Also, it’s 1:00pm on a Wednesday, just wanna point that out.”

“Past noon so totally acceptable, and I’m from Russia, so those rules are irrelevant. Also… are you judging me, mister?” She walked back into the living room, co*cking her head as she stared at him.

“No. No… I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.” He sighed. "I don’t know if I believe in hell per se,” he rambled, graciously accepting a tumblr of unknown contents from her as she seated herself comfortably next to him. “But, if it exists, I have booked myself a one way ticket.”

“Ah, you and me both, buddy. Cheers to that.” They clinked their glasses, and Steve took a careful sip, wincing as the alcohol burned his throat. “Care to tell me what happened? Barnes didn’t forgive you for whatever happened yesterday?”

He cringed and swallowed hard, keeping his gaze locked on the plush carpet. “No judgment?”

“Pinky promise.” She extended her finger, and he wrapped his larger finger around her delicate one.

“I… I took advantage of Bucky,” he confessed quietly, beyond ashamed of his behavior. He kept his hands tight on his tumbler so they wouldn’t shake. “And I kind of want to throw myself off the Tower anytime I think about it.”

“Oh?” She raised an immaculate eyebrow, but other than that, her face remained blank. “Please explain further, I don’t want to jump to conclusions on this.”

So, cheeks aflame with embarrassment, he recounted the whole sordid tale from the beginning; how he and Bucky talked over their issues a bit last night, had a pleasant morning together until he essentially accused his friend of stealing money to pay for what he bought yesterday, how he bullied Bucky into letting him do his hair because Steve wanted to spend a bit more time with him before he left him for Wanda ( again ), and finished with how he made an inherently innocent action into something borderline depraved and risqué.

“Well… it sounds like he was okay with it,” Natasha commented after his explanation, her face still not betraying any emotion. “Considering he never once said no, and verbally asked you to continue.”

“But I took advantage!” Steve cried, hunching his shoulders and placing his head in his hands. “He’s in a delicate place right now, probably touch-starved for decades, and I… I got carried away with doing a task that was nothing but platonic. I made it… salacious. I feel disgusted with myself and I’m sure he feels the same considering he literally could not get away from me any faster.”

He raised his head, locking eyes with her. “Natasha, he gave himself sweater paws when he sat down on the stool. Bucky is soft and fragile, and he must be protected at all times, and I did the complete f*cking opposite of that, holy f*ck -“

“Steve,” she said loudly, taking the tumbler from his hands and setting it on the coffee table. She placed her hands on his shoulders and gently shook him. “Breathe, okay? We both know Barnes is neither soft nor fragile.”

“Well… -“

Natasha held up a manicured hand, cutting him off. “Would you say that to his face?”

He quickly shook his head, wincing at the thought. “That is definitely a fight I would not seek out.”

She gently patted his shoulder in a semblance of comfort before dropping her arms back to her lap. “Because it’s a ridiculous statement, and everyone knows that.”

“Fine,” he sighed begrudgingly. “But I’m also a terrible human being for other reasons.”

“And those reasons are…”

“I’m…” He took a calming breath, his gaze focused on his hands. “I don’t know exactly how to describe it. I’m happy he’s making an effort to move forward, truly, like getting his own clothes, having his own money, making friends and having hobbies. I’m…scared that he won’t need me anymore. And I know that’s selfish, I know , but I can’t help it.”

Natasha nodded her head understandingly. “He’s not supposed to need you, Steve. That’s not healthy. Did you ever think you needed him when you were growing up, even when he was your only friend?”

“No,” Steve snorted, seeing her point. “I wanted him around, of course, but I would have thrown a fit if anyone said I was reliant on him.”

“Exactly,” she smirked. “But look, I don’t know Barnes as well as you do, of course, but I can’t imagine him not wanting you in his life after all this time. You may have to share him with other people now, though, same as how he has to share you with others now, too.”

“I hope you’re right,” he whispered, giving her a pained smile. He doesn’t know what he’d do if he finally got Bucky back only for him to realize he’s better off without Steve after all (and Steve wouldn’t blame him, because he’d be right ).

“Of course I’m right, Rogers,” she scoffed, shoving his shoulder. “Now, moving on. Do you feel bad for the hair thing because you feel like you took advantage of your friend, or does it make you uncomfortable simply because your friend is a man?”

“What?” He squinted at her, confused by the nonsensical question. “No, why would it matter that Bucky’s a guy?”

She held her hands up defensively. “It doesn’t to me, but some people get upset if they have… attractions to others of the same gender.”

“I’ve been attracted to men before,” he explained, meeting her gaze dead on so she knew he was serious. “It’s not weird for me, though you’re the first person I’ve ever told. I accepted it early on, even though I kept it private, and I don’t believe for one second that God considers it a sin. Love is love.”

He sighed, searching his mind for the proper words so she would understand where he was coming from. “But it’s Bucky , Natasha. We’ve been friends for almost my whole life, reunited after he was tortured for decades and forced to do hellacious things against his will, and he lets me do something simple for him cuz I harassed him into it, and I made it indecent. That’s why I feel bad. Not cuz he’s a man.”

He hesitated, remembering some of the things the kids had said to him on the tarmac. “Peter said I’m worse than a bully, he said… he said I’m a bad friend, and he’s right .”

She snorted, bumping her shoulder lightly against his. “Okay, one, you’re not. You’re just way too overprotective because you’re understandably scared to lose Barnes again. And, two, if you truly feel like you overstepped, then you should apologize. But just remember, Barnes may be more concerned with what your reaction will be to the moment , rather than upset by the incident itself.”

“He’s never once shown an interest in a fella, and he’s always had a reputation of being a lady’s man,” Steve countered, shaking his head. “I’m sure he’s disgusted by how I acted earlier, and it’s worse because we live together.”

“You never know,” she shrugged, finishing the rest of her drink, Steve’s remaining mostly untouched so he nudged it towards her. “Everyone’s got secrets, even from their best friends. And people change… including decades old Super Soldiers. What you need to decide, Steve, is how you’re going to handle it. Will you avoid him?”

“You know… the old me?” He felt his face heat, remembering some of the creative ways he used to avoid the ever-persistent Bucky when they were younger. “Without a doubt. But I just… I can’t bring myself to do that anymore. I’m actually going to text him later and see if he wants to have dinner this evening after our Team meeting… outside of the Tower.”

Natasha leveled an appraising look at him. “Rogers, I’m impressed, I gotta say. I was all prepared to offer you a spare room if you needed a place to hideout.”

He laughed, feeling touched; Natasha was kinder and a better friend than she gave herself credit for.

“Okay, okay,” he held up his hands imploringly. “Don't be too impressed; I’m prepared to completely pretend like it never happened unless he says something or is the one avoiding me.”

“Honestly… that might be for the best,” she laughed. “The pretending it didn’t happen part at least - some things are better left alone.”

Chapter 4: Interlude: Bucky's Return

Chapter Text

Flashback -

The first few days after Bucky was “captured” in the Tower (as Steve bitterly began dubbing it in his head) were nothing short of pure torture for him (and probably Bucky as well, not that Steve would know because he wasn't allowed to see him either in person or via the video monitoring system installed in the room). Tony and the other Avengers (including Pepper, Maria, and Nick Fury of all people) had insisted on sequestering (imprisoning) Bucky away from the general population in the lower levels under the Tower. He was placed in a spacious room designed by Bruce and Tony for the Hulk, in case he ever had an ‘incident’ and needed a place to cool down (or if Bruce felt like he was going to have an incident and needed a calming space to go as a precaution).

When his initial shock passed and Peter helped Bucky down after webbing him to the ceiling in his panic, Steve had nervously asked Bucky if he was planning to stick around. Bucky had tensed, his eyes darting around Steve’s apartment as if planning to flee and all hopes of a happy reunion flew from Steve’s mind. He then proceeded to spew an embarrassing amount of words at his closest friend, saying how it was okay if Bucky didn’t want to stay, he was free to leave if he wanted, but Steve hoped he would stay, only if Bucky wanted to stay, and if he did stay, Steve would ensure he was well taken care of while Bucky figured out what he wanted to do next. And to Steve’s honest to god shock, Bucky’s posture somewhat relaxed after his ramblings, and he stared blankly at Steve, simply saying, “Affirmative.”

Steve’s phone instantly blew up, and after a bunch of angry back and forth texts in the group chat between Steve and the others (Steve assumed Friday had reported the incident to Tony, as neither of the teens had moved a muscle once Bucky was released from the ceiling), Bucky had trustingly followed Steve down to the lower levels, agreeing to stay there until they figured out how to remove Hydra’s programming from his head. Steve had sworn on his Ma’s grave that Bucky wasn’t a prisoner and promised to visit him so often that Bucky would be sick of him in no time. Bucky had given him a small nod, then entered the room with a resigned expression (which soon faded away into his emotionless mask), allowing himself to be locked in the jumbo furnished apartment suite for an indefinite amount of time.

Steve stayed long enough to get an idea of what he would need to bring Bucky for his extended stay to make it comfy, finding himself begrudgingly impressed with the set-up. The room appeared to be the same size and shape of a high school gymnasium (Steve only knew what that looked like because he’d be cajoled into filming ‘educational’ videos in one recently) with a completely open floor plan, the walls painted in calming shades of light blue, green, and white. With a press of a button, one of the shorter walls slid up to reveal a decently sized kitchen, with a refrigerator (empty), 2-burner stove, cupboards filled with non-perishable food (expired), a few pots and pans, and plastic reusable utensils, plates, and bowls. Steve called Pepper right then and there, and she promised to have the staff kitchens prepare four giant meals a day for Bucky until Steve put together a grocery list of things Bucky would eat (he’d buy the basics for now, deciding he’d pick Bucky’s brain when there was less going on… the former-assassin seemed to be progressively shutting down, becoming less and less responsive as the tour went on).

By pressing a few more buttons, they discovered a Hulk-size bed, a couch, and a wardrobe stuffed with several Bruce-sized outfits that would never fit Bucky’s muscular frame and Hulk-size bottoms that would also never fit Bucky’s much smaller body. Behind the shorter wall on the opposite side of the kitchen, there was a large bathroom (Steve furiously realized someone removed the door to it, and while neither the toilet nor the shower were visible from the main room, the disrespect irked him) complete with a huge open shower that Bucky briefly seemed relieved to see until his expression smoothed out once more.

Steve mentally compiled a list of all the things he’d bring Bucky over the next few days - food, clothes (a whole new wardrobe basically), furniture (the excessive open space made Steve uncomfortable), toiletries (expensive ones), a television, a stereo system and one of those iPod things Peter was telling him about, books, lots of blankets and pillows, workout equipment, plants that didn’t need much sunlight, and maybe a few kitchen gadgets if Bucky expressed interest in cooking. Steve wasn’t naïve enough to think Bucky would be allowed to live in Steve’s apartment after a week or two, so he would spare no expense when it came to making sure Bucky was comfortable and well taken care of; Bucky deserved nice things, and it was Steve’s personal mission to ensure he received them.

Unfortunately, Steve was forced to deal with the complete and utter betrayal from the one group of people he thought would always have his back, and his personal quest was placed on a temporary hold. Because, after some group vote Steve wasn’t apart of, the Team decided Bucky should be subjected to an onslaught of psych evaluations and questioning (like he was a f*cking criminal for f*ck’s sake) from various personnel they trusted. Pepper said she had found some clothes that would fit Bucky, and everyone assured Steve his friend was being well fed and taken care of, but they wouldn’t give him the newly changed access code that would bring him to the lower levels to verify their claims.

By the fourth day, Steve was planning to drop down the goddamn elevator shaft if he had to, when they finally granted him permission to see Bucky. He was positive it was only because Bucky refused to speak, wouldn’t allow anyone else near him, and had been forgoing food the entire time which had almost driven Steve to say ‘f*ck it’ and steal Bucky away for good.

Rushing into the room, Steve found Bucky sitting on the floor with his back pressed against the couch, his knees pulled to his chest and arms around his shins, staring unfocused at the wall in front of him. His face was unnaturally pale, and there were dark circles under his eyes. His hair was greasy, like it hadn't been washed since before he arrived, and his fingernails were bitten down so low, the tips of his fingers were raw and red. A pained sound escaped Steve’s throat. Bucky’s head jerked up, and the former-assassin rose gracefully to his feet, his posture rigid and tense. Standing with his head bowed, it looked like he expected to be yelled at. Or worse.

Without a care in the world for the cameras in every corner of the suite, Steve strode across the room and enveloped Bucky into a tight, bone crushing hug. A flood of apologies spilled unintelligibly from his lips; Bucky flinched at first but remained in his hold. Right as Steve was about to pull away with even more apologies, Bucky slowly relaxed into the hug, encircling his flesh arm around Steve’s waist. He gently patted Steve’s back with his metal arm.

“Breathe,” Bucky instructed, and Steve realized at that moment that he was on the verge of hyperventilating.

Steve kept his hands on Bucky’s shoulders but leaned back far enough to meet his gaze. “In case I wasn’t clear these last few minutes, I’m so f*cking sorry I haven’t been by to see you since the first day. They… um, they wouldn’t let me come. But they won’t keep you from me anymore, I promise, Buck.” He brazenly glared into the nearest camera; anyone who attempted to contradict him would meet the full force of his wrath, he didn’t care who it was - Bucky needed him, and it was his turn to repay his friend for all the years he faithfully looked after Steve.

Bucky’s gray eyes searched Steve’s face, and in a rare show of emotion, his lips dipped into a small frown. “I thought you left.” He swallowed, his voice hoarse from disuse. “Because you realized you didn’t want me around anymore after… after everything.”

Steve sucked in a sharp breath and pulled Bucky back into his chest, resting his cheek on the top of Bucky’s head. “I want nothing more than to be around you all the time, no matter what happened in the past, and I will never leave you, I swear it, Bucky. Together til the end of the line, right?”

“Affirmative,” Bucky agreed. He remained silent for a few minutes before adding, “Optimal performance levels are below acceptable standards.” At Steve’s questioning look, he added, “Can’t breathe.”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Steve winced, loosening his grip, feeling terrible when Bucky inhaled deeply. “You up for some food? I can cook you something simple, and I brought you some other things, too, but I hope you don’t mind wearing my clothes for a bit… I didn't have much time to do any shopping.” (Because he spent the entire last few days alternating between pacing his apartment like a caged animal and yelling at anyone he came across when he left his rooms about the injustice of the situation).

“Affirmative,” Bucky repeated, eyeing the bag across Steve’s shoulder. A limp lock of hair fell into his face, and he let out a soft sigh of irritation. “Shower first.”

With Steve at his side, Bucky spent the next few days emotionlessly answering Maria, Fury, and Natasha’s questions in regards to his time with Hydra, divulging any knowledge he had that would help dismantle them for good along with his reasons for returning (he said he came back to protect Steve, which had made Steve’s heart do funny things until he described what would happen if ‘the Asset failed its mission’, and Steve only felt a twinge of guilt for the severe destruction he caused in the Tower’s gym).

Bucky still refused to speak to the therapist and remained silent on his whereabouts during the last year after the helicarrier incident. Steve was insanely curious about it all, but he didn’t want to push his friend into speaking about something he wasn’t ready to share. He searched for Bucky for the entire year and found nothing. It was a miracle of the highest order that his friend showed up on his own and agreed to stay (at least for now, Steve thought resentfully… considering how he’d been treated so far, he wouldn’t blame Bucky if he attempted to escape; hell, Steve would probably run away with him if it came to that).

When those pesky (interrogation) sessions were over, Steve was finally able to visit Bucky on happier terms. He brought all the items he collected, and within a few hours, Bucky had a fully stocked kitchen, a new wardrobe (half of it was Steve’s own clothing and the rest of it included new undergarments and bottoms since Bucky could only fit into his shirts, sweaters, and jackets but he seemed content with this arrangement, so Steve considered it a win), a plethora of comfy blankets and throw pillows courtesy of Wanda, a workout area complete with free weights heavy enough for Super Soldiers plus a yoga mat, a small dining room table, a coffee table, a TV with all the streaming services, an iPod with thousands of songs picked out by Steve, Peter, and Wanda, an entire box of bath, face, and hair products courtesy of Pepper and Maria, and enough books to fill the bookshelf Steve added to the room, with a few books chosen by each of the Tower’s occupants.

During the first two days post-questioning, Steve talked until he was hoarse, discussing their shared history, their families, and reminiscing on the mischievous sh*t Steve would drag him into before the war. Bucky typically remained quiet throughout these stories, but Steve could read his body language well enough to tell he was listening attentively.

But after the third day of Steve coming over to share stories and cook food Bucky happily scarfed down (his face never said he was happy, but his metal arm would whirr in a particular way that Steve started associating with contentment), his friend finally spoke up as they finished their meal.

“Where’s your gun?” Bucky asked, staring intensely at him across the dining room table, clad in Steve’s ‘I Love New York’ sweatshirt and a pair of yoga pants (he had to give Pepper props for the clothing choices she made - Bucky seemed to really like the pieces she picked out, choosing her comfortable and practical selections over the jeans and khakis Steve picked out).

“Uh… I don’t use one?” Steve hesitantly answered with his spoon half way to his mouth, caught off guard by the unexpected question.

Bucky blinked. “Knife?”

Steve picked at a stain on the bottom of his shirt, hoping it was from the tomato soup he just finished. “Nope. Just the shield.”

Bucky blinked a few more times, his eyes scanning the room. “But you didn’t bring it with you.”

He shrugged, glancing around at the barren walls and made a note to bring some of his artwork next time… Bucky used to always hang Steve’s work up on the walls of his childhood bedroom and then on the fridge of their shared apartment before the war, so maybe he’d still like it. Steve hadn’t been in a drawing mood lately, but with Bucky back, his inspiration and desire to create was slowly returning. “Why would I? We’re hanging out, no need for it.”

Bucky frowned and slowly reached into his boot to pull out a green item, placing it on the table; when Steve didn’t reach for it, he firmly nudged it closer.

“Is that… a shank made from a Lego?” Steve gaped, staring at the object in disbelief.

Tony had decided he was going to make Bucky a new and improved arm (because no one, Steve and Bucky included, felt comfortable with the idea of Bucky wearing something Hydra designed) and preferred to study Bucky’s current arm in this room instead of dragging him back and forth to his labs. He had brought a giant set of Legos for Bucky to ‘entertain’ himself with while he was busy running schematics on his computers (which had already been in the room, to the amazement of both Super Soldiers, hidden in the floor and revealed by pressing multiple buttons at once). And while Bucky clearly enjoyed the project, dedicating a whole chunk of floor space to his various creations, Steve was of the opinion that maybe he enjoyed it a little too much.

“Affirmative.” Bucky smirked ever-so-slightly, but Steve knew without a shadow of a doubt that his friend was extremely proud of his homemade shank, the weapon measuring about half the length of Steve’s forearm and had a hilt like a sword. “Look.” Bucky grabbed the hilt with his metal hand and placed the sharp end on the palm of his flesh hand, and Steve leapt across the table, grabbing Bucky’s wrist before he could move it.

“I don’t need a demonstration, I can tell how sharp it is. But thank you for making this for me,” he said sincerely, because while it was a strange gift, it was the thought that counted… right? “I feel like I should get you a gift now.”

Bucky stared at Steve in confusion. “Not a gift.”

“Okay…” Steve trailed off, unsure how to respond to that.

Bucky sighed like he was dealing with someone being purposefully obtuse. “Handlers must be armed at all times when near the Asset. It is known.” (His tone and facial expression said he was judging Steve very harshly for not knowing this).

Holy f*ck, Steve was going to make it his life mission to drag every single piece of Hydra and anyone they’d ever dealt with into the deepest parts of hell.

Steve’s hands clenched into fists, his nails digging painfully into his palms, and he quickly dropped them into his lap before Bucky could see. “I’m not your handler. I’m your friend. We -“ he pointed to himself and then back to Bucky, “are friends.”

“You’re my mission,” Bucky refuted, his voice hard.

Ouch. Steve couldn’t prevent his face from showing his sadness at the comment; he knew it wasn’t Bucky's fault, and he would have to be patient with his traumatized friend, but it still upset him to have their lifelong friendship dismissed so harshly.

The plates in Bucky’s arm made a frantic whirring sound, like they didn’t know where to realign themselves. “Who is my handler then? The Asset needs a handler.”

“You aren’t the Asset anymore,” Steve insisted, his voice unintentionally getting louder. He lowered it somewhat, feeling ashamed for losing his temper already. “You’re just Bucky.”

Bucky stared wordlessly at Steve for several minutes, before leaning across the small dining room table (which Steve had ‘borrowed’ from the Tower’s first-floor coffee shop late at night when it was closed) to gently pat Steve on the head three times. “Okay, Steve.”

A part of Steve wanted to ask where Bucky picked up such a strange gesture from, and another part wanted to argue his point because it was very clear Bucky was only humoring him, but his mouth moved before his brain could keep up. “Why must handlers be armed at all times when near the Asset?”

Bucky’s face morphed into an expression that screamed, ‘You’re being stupid on purpose, but I’ll still answer because I’m nice like that,’ and it made Steve’s heart soar because that was undeniably a well-worn expression of one Sergeant James Barnes of the 107th.

“So they can put down the Asset if it malfunctions,” Bucky declared before muttering his next words under his breath, oblivious to Steve’s inner downward spiral of rage and despair and guilt and more rage. “Thought that was obvious?”

Steve spent the next several days repeatedly reiterating his viewpoint, arriving to Bucky’s suite at 7am sharp and leaving at 9pm (the Team set strict visiting hours after realizing Steve planned to all but move in with Bucky until his friend could relocated upstairs with him); “You are not the Asset, you are Bucky, and we are best friends”, “You are not the Winter Soldier, you are James Buchanan Barnes, and also my best friend,” “You are not a weapon or a machine, you are a person with thoughts, feelings, and emotions, and you have people who care about you and want to help you,” and even, “You are Bucky, and I am Steve, and I am with you until the end of the line.”

For the first few instances, Bucky would nod or say something like “okay” or “affirmative.” After Steve’s fourth time saying one of the phrases on the second day, he could tell by Bucky's long-suffering sigh that he was starting to become exasperated. Steve swore he caught his friend rolling his eyes once, a gesture that led to his epiphany - he could break Bucky free from the Winter Soldier shell by simply being obnoxious as f*ck. He felt Natasha’s intense judgment when he told her of his plan, but hadn’t his stubbornness led to the cracking of the programming to begin with? He wasn’t foolish enough to think he could remove the program by annoying it to death, but if he could help Bucky recover more of himself, maybe he could begin to lead a normal life again until they figured out how to remove the trigger words from his head.

As children, the surefire way to piss Bucky off would be to ignore him, but Steve absolutely refused to treat his emotionally scarred friend that way. Instead, he began by talking nonstop during his visits, mostly sharing little gossip tidbits about the Avengers and literally anyone else he even vaguely knew (there were so many little things Steve wanted to tell Bucky about, and he found it surprisingly simple to fill the day with constant chatter). He also discussed, in excessive detail, his most benign adventures since waking up from the ice, like the time he went to the grocery store and almost had a heart attack at the price of milk or the time he went to Central Park and watched a guy get chased by a goose. Bucky seemed amused by his constant blabbering (which anyone else in the world would have loathed by the second hour), but remained mostly silent. Tactic failed.

Steve next tried a combo tactic; chewing with his mouth open and whistling, two things pre-Winter Soldier Bucky despised with a burning passion of a thousand suns. During lunch, Bucky only proceeded to give him his patented, ‘You’re-f*cking-Gross-and-I-Am-Hardcore-Judging-You’ face, but otherwise didn’t react. Tactic failed, but Steve held onto hope; he began tidying Bucky’s room, putting books back on the shelf and straightening up the bed while loudly whistling a few modern tunes he memorized this morning for this very purpose. Bucky’s eye started twitching after the first song, his fists clenched after the second one, and by the third one, Steve could see a vein bulging in his forehead. He was confident he won. Innocently, Steve asked Bucky if he was okay, and to his horror, he watched as Bucky completely shut down, his face smoothing out and his body relaxing, completely emotionless. Tactic f*cking failed.

To add to his defeat, Steve had to miss the entire next day and most of the one after to go on a mission with the Team (Bucky’s intel led them to a Hydra hideout in New Mexico), and he returned with some cuts and bruises, a broken arm, and one last ditch effort to peel the Winter Soldier shell away.

“What happened?” Bucky apathetically asked, his eyes sweeping over Steve’s battered form (there ended up being more Hydra agents than anticipated, but they won, so Steve wasn’t too upset about his injuries).

“It’s a saga,” Steve responded evasively, heading to the kitchen with the giant takeout containers of lasagna and Caesar salad from an Italian restaurant down the street. “But I’m okay.”

“What happened?” Bucky repeated, staring at the sling that held his left arm close to his body.

“Let’s get settled in for dinner, and then I’ll tell you, okay?” Steve offered, handing Bucky the plates and salad bowls.

Bucky wordlessly set the table and then gently shoved Steve into a chair while he distributed the food and filled their water glasses himself.

“What happened?” Bucky repeated again, staring unblinkingly at Steve, who was happily chowing down on his lasagna.

“Okay, so,” Steve began, waving his fork as he spoke and talking with his mouth open, determined that this would be the moment he broke the cold exterior away from his Bucky. He proceeded to fabricate the most asinine story about his mission, becoming louder and more animated as he thought of more increasingly ridiculous things to add -

“We’re chasing this boat operated by Hydra agents, right?” (Bucky tilted his head slightly to the right which Steve interpreted as, “I don’t remember telling you about any boats” which is a fair point to be confused about, since Steve one hundred percent did not rehearse this story beforehand but probably should have). “I jumped out of our plane without a parachute into the ocean, which was fine in theory, but I ended up landing on a giant rock under the water, and it wasn’t a big deal at first, but then a hostile on the ship we were trying to board got me with his harpoon gun, which stung my pride more than anything, because he was a terrible shot overall. But I pulled it out, and it was fine, but things got a little dicey when I almost got sucked completely into the propellers, but the suit Tony designed took the brunt of the damage.” (Bucky’s eye twitched, and the shifting plates in his arm sounded like the pincers of a crab about to engage in battle with another crab over territory, a rare sound, but one Steve associated with ‘anger'. It spurred his tale on). “Tony plucked me out of the water, and we boarded the deck, but then the asshole Captain of the ship shoved my face into the little glass window,” he turned to the side so Bucky could see the cuts on the side of his face, “but it was no big deal until Sam, you remember Sam, right? The guy with the wings?” (Bucky’s eye twitched again, and Steve belatedly remembered the Winter Soldier ripped Sam’s wings off on the helicarriers, oops) “He scooped me up off the boat, which was on fire at this point, and we landed roughly onto the plane to avoid another harpoon shot at us, and that’s when I broke my arm.” (Bucky’s arm made a new sound that sounded like metal scraping against metal in the loudest, most earsplitting way, and Steve categorized that as ‘undiluted rage’ considering Bucky’s jaw was clenched so tightly, Steve could hear his teeth grinding together) “But, I probably would have been fine except I forgot my shield when I jumped -”

Bucky’s chair screeched against the floor as it toppled over. Suddenly, the table Steve was sitting at crashed into the wall behind him, their food, plates, and utensils flying in all directions as Bucky launched into a savage rant, pacing back and forth in the empty space where the table previously stood.

“STEVEN GRANT ROGERS,” (Steve winced at this part, because he could count on one hand how many times Bucky used his full name in an argument, and every single one of those times ended with a lot of groveling on Steve’s part). “WHAT THE GOD DAMN f*ck IS WRONG WITH YOU?! ARE YOU STUPID, OR DID YOU HIT YOUR HEAD ONE TOO MANY TIMES? OR MAYBE MOST OF YOUR BRAIN CELLS ARE STILL FROZEN FROM THE ICE? SERIOUSLY, IT’S OKAY TO ADMIT IT, THERE’S NO SHAME IN HAVING BRAIN DAMAGE, I OF ALL PEOPLE WOULD UNDERSTAND… AND YET, DESPITE ALL THE TIMES MY OWN BRAIN WAS ELECTROCUTED OR POKED WITH NAILS,” (Steve prayed that last part was an exaggeration, because, what the f*ck?!) “I AM STILL NOT AS GODDAMN RECKLESS AND IDIOTIC AS YOU. TELL ME, CAPTAIN, WHAT THE f*ck DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING LEAVING YOUR SHIELD ON THE PLANE, LITERALLY THE ONLY WEAPON YOU WILL USE DESPITE THE FACT IT’S NOT ACTUALLY A WEAPON? I'M LITERALLY RIGHT HERE, YET YOU HAVE INFERIOR SOLIDERS WATCHING YOUR BACK, EVEN THOUGH I'M THE BEST SOLDIER IN THE GOD DAMNED WORLD! HOW DOES THAT MAKE SENSE? OOPS, LET'S NOT FORGET HOW I’VE BEEN TRAINED TO FOLLOW BEHIND YOU AND KEEP YOU FROM DOING STUPID sh*t FOR OUR ENTIRE LIVES! WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS, STEVE?!”

Bucky paused to scowl fiercely at Steve, and while Steve realized he should probably remove the smug smirk from his own face, he couldn’t help but mentally pat himself on the back for a job well done… until Bucky’s eyes zeroed in on his arm, his face going from red and splotchy with anger, to anguished and ashen so quickly it gave Steve whiplash.

“Buck?” Steve worriedly asked, standing up and walking towards his shaking friend.

“I..I, I -” Bucky bit his lip until it was bleeding, and when Steve reached a hand out to touch his shoulder, the former-assassin violently flinched and backed away from Steve until he bumped into the wall behind him. “I hurt you.”

“What?” Steve glanced down at his right arm and saw a small cut on his bicep, the blood slowly cascading down and making it appear much worse than it was. “It’s no big deal, Buck, probably from a fork or something. It’s already healed, look.” Steve used the bottom of his shirt to wipe the blood away, leaving nothing but a faint line that would disappear within the hour.

“I hurt you,” Bucky echoed, inching down the wall until he was seated on the floor, his eyes wide and panicked; Bucky gasped for air, his flesh arm rubbing at his chest. “Mission… mission failed. Mission - protect Steve Rogers. Failed. The Asset hurt Steve Rogers. Mission failed. The Asset has failed. Mission failed. The Asset must be -”

“No!” Steve yelled, feeling a rush of dread at Bucky’s words. After tearing his sling off (which he barely needed to begin with, his arm healed completely by the time they sat down for dinner), he cautiously sat next to his friend. He entwined their fingers together, in part so Bucky would stop scratching his nails across any part of his skin he could reach. “Breathe, Buck, come on.” Steve took gentle breaths, Bucky struggling to mimic his breathing pattern. “Remember, you’re not the Asset. You’re Bucky Barnes, my best friend -”

“I hurt you,” Bucky repeated, his voice empty and his gaze vacant, but his breathing was slowly becoming less erratic. “I hurt you on the bridge. I hurt you on the helicarriers. I hurt you just now. I do nothing but cause you pain -”

“No, Bucky, that’s not true!” Steve pleaded, squeezing Bucky’s hand tighter. “The first two times weren’t your fault, and this last time was an accident. You saved my life, remember? I know you pulled me out of the river, and I would have drowned if it wasn’t for you.”

“But I hurt you first,” Bucky whispered, turning his head to look helplessly at Steve. “I always hurt you. The Asset is only good for one thing. To inflict suffering on others.”

Steve let go of Bucky’s hand and slowly raised his arms up, cupping Bucky’s cheeks in his palms. “But you saved me even when your head wasn’t your own. That’s what counts, Bucky. And you saved me countless times before and during the war.”

He wiped a few tears off Bucky’s face, his heart squeezing painfully in his chest at the sight of his friend’s sorrow.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Bucky choked, and Steve pulled Bucky firmly into his side, the brunette allowing himself to be held while his tears dried and his emotions emptied out, returning into the hollow shell of the Asset.

“Buck, I’m sorry, honestly, I am such a f*cking asshole,” Steve mumbled when Bucky calmed down, completely ashamed and disgusted by his own behavior. “None of that happened. I made up the entire story to get you to react, and that was such an awful thing to do, and I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” Bucky breathed, and Steve wanted to sob because he hated fighting with Bucky.

“Are you… are you mad at me?” Steve hesitantly asked, afraid of the answer but needing to know. “I’ll make it better, I swear, just tell me what you need me to do, and I’ll do it.”

“Not mad,” Bucky answered, and Steve felt his left shoulder move in a semblance of a shrug. “I still hurt you.”

“One - that was an accident. And two - I deserved it for making up that tall tale to get a reaction out of you,” Steve asserted, wholeheartedly believing his words; karma was a bitch.

Bucky didn’t move from Steve’s hold, his cheek squished against Steve’s chest. “So… no harpoon?”

“No harpoon,” Steve confirmed, gently brushing Bucky’s hair back with his fingers. “This stupid robot Hydra was working on tried to rip the shield out of my grip, and when I wouldn’t let it go, it pounded straight down on my arm.”

The former assassin let out a disgruntled sigh and grumbled something that sounded a lot like, “You and that f*cking shield, I swear.”

Steve noticed the clock above Bucky’s door changing to 9:03pm and mentally dared someone to try and drag him away from Bucky tonight.

Bucky yawned softly and nuzzled his face against Steve’s chest, and Steve had to clamp his jaw shut to contain his coo at the cute sight. “Ya know, I always wanted a harpoon.” (Fortunately, Bucky promptly fell asleep in Steve’s arms before he could do something stupid like promise to buy all the harpoons in the world if it would make him happy).

No one accepted Steve’s mental dare, and he pleasantly woke up the next morning bundled in a mound of blankets in Bucky’s giant Hulk-size bed (he’d momentarily panicked last night on where to sleep after carefully depositing a sleeping Bucky onto the bed - on one hand, they slept in the same bed when they were kids, teens, and even sometimes as adults, both before and during the war. But would that be violating Bucky’s space now? Would it be weird and insulting if he slept on the couch? He compromised by sleeping on the opposite end of the humongous bed, giving Bucky his space but also not creating contention by sleeping elsewhere in case Bucky took it as a personal slight).

With a loud yawn, Steve stretched his limbs out wide like a starfish, feeling well-rested and refreshed for the first time in god knows how long. When his extended arm bumped into a hard object, he cracked an eye open and was met with stormy gray eyes inches from his own face, his hand resting on Bucky’s muscular chest.

“Morning, Buck,” Steve greeted, trying not to breathe too much with Bucky so close to his face (morning breath was even worse when you had enhanced senses), the other Super Soldier sitting cross-legged on the bed next to him and leaning over him for some unknown reason. “Did you sleep okay?”

Bucky blinked several times, and the plates in his arm shifted quietly (Steve associated this with confusion, but more like ‘people are confusing me right now, and it kind of makes me sad because I don’t understand them anymore’ versus a different, louder sound that was more ‘this situation or object is confusing, but I am determined to figure it out’). “Hello.”

“Hi, Buck,” Steve grinned, amused by his friend’s peculiar (but endearing) eccentricities (the patting on the head thing was his favorite, followed by the whirring plates in his arm). “Everything okay?”

Bucky blinked again and sat up straight, his lips dropping into a frown. “No.”

Steve quickly sat up, belatedly realizing he was shirtless and must have taken it off sometime in the middle of the night when he was half asleep. “What’s wrong?”

Bucky stared down at his hands, his shoulders hunched. “You fell asleep here.”

Oh, f*ck, guess he didn’t make the right choice after all. “I’m sorry, Buck, I should have slept on the couch but -”

“You slept here. In the room. With me,” Bucky interrupted him, and Steve’s jaw snapped shut… that kind of stung, but he understood. Bucky needed his space, and Steve should have known better than to violate it. Things were different now, and he needed to accept that he didn’t know Bucky as well as he used to anymore. It was wrong of him to assume something was okay, simply because it used to be.

“I’m sorry." Steve ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean to overstep your boundaries, and I won’t do it again. I’m truly sorry if I offended you, Buck.”

Bucky’s head jerked up, and he stared at Steve in confusion. “I’m not offended. I’m dangerous, Steve.”

“Okay…” Steve responded, wondering where Bucky was going with all this.

Bucky rolled his eyes, and Steve mentally cheered for another show of emotion, despite the reasoning behind it. “I’m a weapon. Why do you fall asleep next to a weapon, especially one that’s unpredictable and unstable?”

“Bucky, please.” Steve sighed in resignation; he should have expected something like this. “You won’t hurt me, and in case you haven’t noticed, I can also defend myself.”

Bucky opened his mouth to argue, likely some version of ‘I already have hurt you,’ and Steve quickly continued speaking, a sudden realization coming to him. “Besides, that was literally the best sleep I’ve gotten since before the war,” (meaning before Bucky left to fight overseas and then fell to his supposed death after they were reunited), “and I know for a fact you haven’t been sleeping well. Considering I’m a light sleeper and am just now waking up, I’d wager you got some decent rest as well.” (Friday regularly updated him on Bucky, but refused to provide anything other than the basics - sleeping patterns, eating habits, and overall mood, but she swore she’d inform him if anything concerning happened.)

Bucky’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Are you spying on me?”

f*ck, f*ck, f*ck, he should not have said that.

“No, of course not!” He dropped his face into his hands with a groan, then lifted his head to meet Bucky’s eyes straight on. He refused to lie to his friend again. “Umm... actually, yeah kind of. Tony’s A.I., Friday, monitors your basic habits like eating and sleeping and mood, but she keeps her reports to the bare minimum. I know that’s creepy and invasive and violating, and I’m sorry, but I worry about you, and -”

Bucky placed his flesh hand over Steve’s mouth, stopping him mid-sentence. “I would do the same, so you can stop your rambling and… make breakfast instead?” Bucky’s eyes widened innocently, and Steve fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

“Of course, pal,” he easily agreed, smiling brightly at his adorable friend. “Can I borrow a shirt, though, please?” (He didn’t think it’d be a good idea to walk around in a shirt with blood smeared on it after all that happened yesterday.)

Bucky continued to vehemently refuse to speak to the therapist Tony hired for him, but Steve found her advice on how to help Bucky begin to process and heal from the trauma useful (though he also refused to discuss his own ‘issues’ with her; he wanted to focus on Bucky for the time being, and whenever that was over, he promised he’d consider seeing her for himself).

The therapist first suggested Steve find simple tasks him and Bucky could peacefully complete together, saying that accomplishing something would help him gain confidence in his abilities (abilities that didn’t involve spying on people or murder went unsaid). The day after his talk with her, Steve brought a briefcase filled with professional grade paper, pens, colored pencils, markers, and a paint set to Bucky’s room and asked him to draw things he likes or something important to him. Despite his mutterings about not being artistic, Bucky quickly got to work, putting his full focus into the project… and Steve really should not have been surprised when he drew his entire gun collection in exact, painstaking detail, even taking an eleventh piece of paper to draw a harpoon gun, adding little red and silver hearts around it. When Steve praised his drawings (because truly, they looked like they came straight from a photograph they were done so well), Bucky seemed pleased with himself.

The following day, Steve tried the same tactic, and Bucky diligently got to work, this time drawing his knife collection (and seriously, why did he have so many and where were they now?!). Steve called the therapist once he was safely back in his apartment, and after smothering her giggles, she suggested he try something more specific, like redrawing a building, or landmark, or a pleasant memory.

Filled with renewed determination, Steve arrived the next day with clearer instructions - drawing a portrait of themselves. Bucky frowned, hesitating for the first time, but when inspiration struck, he put his head down and drew for twice as long as Steve... when he brazenly tried to peek across the table at Bucky’s work, his friend glared heatedly at him and used his metal arm to hide his paper from Steve’s view.

When he finally finished, Steve showed his work first (he drew the two of them as they were a few day ago, Steve sitting on the couch with his crossword puzzle, and Bucky lying flat on his back across the back of the couch, holding a book above his face, completely engrossed in its pages), and Bucky nodded approvingly. To Steve’s delight, Bucky placed it smack in the middle of the fridge with a few magnets leftover from Tony’s ‘arm experiments’ (Steve personally believed Tony was just amused by putting magnets on Bucky’s arm, and the experiments served no true purpose other than satisfying Tony’s strange sense of humor).

Bucky smugly turned over his paper next, Steve holding his breath in anticipation; he blinked a few times in confusion, glancing over to Bucky whose smirk was growing by the minute. Because Bucky decided not to draw them as they were, no, that would be boring… he drew Steve as a tiny, hissing yellow cat (Steve knows it’s him because the Captain America shield emblem was etched onto the cat’s side), and Bucky drew himself as a larger, sleek black cat with a metal arm, complete with the red star at the top. Cat-Bucky stood protectively in front of Cat-Steve, a look of pride on its face as a nine-headed Hydra water dragon lay dead at its feet (Steve pretended not to understand the symbolism of the dead falcon, a spider crushed under a boot, and a twisted hunk of metal in the background).

“This is excellent, Buck!” he genuinely praised, smiling proudly at his friend. “You’ve gotten a lot better since your stick figure days.”

“The Asset can expertly draw maps, architectural blueprints, and portraits of targets from memory,” he self-consciously explained with a strained smile. “It’s good to find a better use for those skills.” (Steve made a mental note to tell the therapist she was right.)

“Can I keep this?” Steve asked, unable to think of how they would have trained Bucky to become artistic… was it the serum? God, he hoped it was from the serum. “Even though it’s a bit unrealistic.”

“It’s realistic if you use your imagination, Steve,” Bucky huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “But fine.”

“No,” he playfully argued back, pointing at Cat-Steve. “I’m bigger than you now, pal.”

“Come back tomorrow, and I’ll make you a realistic one,” Bucky challenged, tilting his head to the side as he stared Steve down.

Of course, Steve came back the next day, and Bucky’s ‘realistic’ drawing took his breath away; he drew Steve as a giant, majestic white cat with sparkling blue eyes, the shield over his head like a halo, and himself as a monstrous, fanged black cat with his silver arm and devil horns, blood dripping from his teeth and claws. Cat-Bucky still stood protectively in front of Steve, despite being slightly smaller, a variety of other horned monsters dead at his feet. He titled the drawing, ‘La Beauté et le Monstre’ and while Steve didn’t know French very well, he got the gist. Steve placed both pictures on his fridge because they were phenomenal from an artistic standpoint, but also because they were done by Bucky and should be lauded over by anyone who came to Steve’s apartment.

The therapist next suggested ‘socializing’ Bucky with people other than Steve and Tony (who only spent time with Bucky to analyze his arm). Although he was initially wary about the entire concept, Steve was touched to see the Tower's inhabitants embracing Bucky like one of their own, each volunteering to visit him. Pepper had to make a schedule for the week to make sure no one overlapped with each other, while also ensuring Bucky had plenty of alone time so as not to overwhelm him - she also said it would be good for Bucky to have a regular routine and to know who to expect each day.

Pepper and Maria were the first pair to spend time with Bucky (Tony introduced him to Pepper during one of his ‘Arm Test’ visits, and Steve introduced him to Maria the day before in anticipation for this visit). Steve and Tony anxiously watched the live feed of the interaction, Friday allowing the breach of privacy due to their overwhelming nerves. But they needn’t have worried; Bucky seemed timid and shy for the first five minutes, mentioning that he was scared he might accidentally hurt them, and when both women cackled loudly at his words and showed them their ‘defenses’ (Maria’s various guns and Pepper’s Extremis, which Bucky found fascinating because he was secretly a nerd), the entire visit went smoothly. Bucky didn’t talk much, but his body language was clearly comfortable, and he easily charmed Pepper and Maria with his soft words and quick wit. And to Steve and Tony’s utter shock, when Pepper offered to trim Bucky’s increasingly unruly hair, he accepted, and he fell asleep as she started combing out his wet locks, and stayed asleep until she finished styling his freshly trimmed hair.

Clint accidentally unveiled Bucky’s competitive side, and the two dedicated hours intensely playing whatever game Clint brought that day; a dozen different card games, chess, Mancala, Jenga, Scrabble, Connect-Four, Battleship, darts (Steve’s proud to say Bucky held his own despite the ridiculous obstacles they set up for themselves), and a few more Bucky forgot the name of when he was telling Steve in the evening over dinner. But Steve ended up having to put his foot down when he came over to find Bucky pouting fiercely, having lost his favorite giant cat-plushie pillow in a card game wager to the archer. Steve had marched upstairs without a word and stolen the damned thing right out of Clint’s room (which he didn’t feel bad about since he ‘won’ the thing for Bucky at a fair he passed by after a mission the week prior… the workers wouldn’t let him try the strongman game, instead allowing him to choose his prize after taking a photo with them, but still). Bucky had positively beamed when he returned from Clint’s, hugging the cat pillow to his chest while his arm all but purred in contentment, and it filled Steve with a strong sense of pride knowing he put that smile on Bucky’s face.

Bucky took a liking to Wanda for her calming presence, and Steve thought he likely empathized with her due to their shared history with Hydra (Steve had given him a brief overview in the early days of Bucky’s arrival on how Wanda got her powers and came to join their group, and he didn’t need Bucky to say a word to know his friend was enthralled by the whole concept of magic). She introduced him to Disney movies, and the two marathoned movie after movie while eating a variety of different snacks and candies from all over the world (Vision came the first time, but Bucky became distressed by his constant hovering, and the three Avengers agreed it would be best if Vision stayed away for the time being). Natasha never lingered long, preferring to drop off useful magazines, how-to books, and different coffees each time she visited (after finding out Bucky’s obsessed with the coffee machine she donated when Steve was first gathering stuff for Bucky’s room), and then kindly forfeited the rest of her time slot to Steve.

Because, ironically, it was Steve who struggled with Bucky’s socialization the most, because between Steve’s own training schedule, more frequently occurring missions, and Bucky’s packed social calendar, Steve went from spending 90% of his week with Bucky to maybe 25% if he was being generous. And while that didn’t seem too bad, Bucky literally spent most of his visits napping (not including Steve stopping by to eat and then having to run out again to get to a meeting); it didn’t matter what time of day Steve visited during his allotted time, Bucky would insist that Steve read to him on the couch, and within minutes, Bucky would be asleep with his head pillowed on the arm rest, his body curled up into a tight ball with only his foot touching Steve, tucking it snuggly under his thigh. Steve felt guilty for being upset by this… how f*cking selfish could he be?! He should be happy Bucky was getting the rest he needed and also opening up more in his interactions with other people, but… he missed Bucky. A lot.

Steve’s chaotic schedule caught up to him when he glanced at his phone before his assigned morning time slot with Bucky and noticed a calendar alert, and holy sh*t, he forgot Sam’s birthday. He sprinted to the parking garage and was hopping on his motorcycle within minutes, confident he could knock the four hour drive down to three and surprise his second-closest friend with a visit, feeling guilty for barely talking to Sam since Bucky showed up. Fortunately, Sam was happy to see him, and the hours flew by as they caught up on anything and everything, and Steve agreed to spend the night when they realized how late it was.

Steve arrived back at the Tower in time for lunch with Bucky the next day, feeling much lighter after his impromptu adventure.

“Hi, Buck,” he greeted, placing his leather jacket on the coat rack Natasha randomly brought one day. “Hungry?”

Bucky was sitting at the table already, his face smooth and blank. “Mission?”

“What?” Steve asked, rifling through the refrigerator for sandwich cheese, meat, and condiments.

“Yesterday.” Bucky’s blank voice had alarm bells ringing through his head, and Steve dropped the armful of items on the counter, turning to face Bucky. “Mission?”

“Oh, no,” Steve grinned, turning back around to start putting together a mountain of sandwiches for them after grabbing the fresh loaf of bread he brought the other day. “I almost forgot Sam’s birthday, so I drove down to DC to surprise him.” When Bucky didn’t respond, Steve kept talking, ignorant to his own stupidity. “It was nice to get out of the Tower for a bit and get some fresh air, ya know? We had a good time, catching up and all, nothing too exciting. I think you two would really get along.”

When Bucky still hadn’t responded, Steve assumed he’s irritated because he’s hungry… after all, Steve was twenty minutes late for their lunch visit, so he quickly finished making the sandwiches and deposited them in front of Bucky… who was glaring heatedly at him, f*ck.

Steve repeated the conversation in his head, and with horror, realized his mistake.

“We can go up to the roof later if you want?” he offered in between bites of his food; poor Bucky hadn’t left this room in a month, and here Steve was bragging about how he got to go outside to get some fresh air. f*ck, he was such an asshole.

This seemed to piss Bucky off even more, his cheeks flushing an angry red. “I don’t want to go outside with you,” he spat, which ended up being the last words he spoke to Steve for the entire day, his only consolation being that Bucky ate all of his food (after getting up from the table with his plate to go sit on the couch, but still).

Half an hour later, Steve left. He felt god awful for offending Bucky so badly. Determined to fix his mistake, he embarrassedly told Wanda the situation, and she agreed to spend time with Bucky outside, if he was willing to go with her instead.

The next day, Steve arrived promptly for their scheduled lunch time, secretly crossing his fingers that Bucky forgave him over the course of their short time apart. As his rotten luck would have it, Bucky seemed to become angrier in the last twenty-four-hours, seeing as how he was already sitting and eating an elaborate meal made for one.

Steve shamefully sat down in the chair across from Bucky, debating on how to start the conversation, before deciding to just come outright and say it. “Buck.” Bucky scraped his fork along his plate, Steve flinching at the ear splitting noise. “Wanda says she’ll go outside with you whenever you want… I’m sorry we can’t give you the freedom you deserve, but we’re working on it, I swear.”

Bucky glanced around his giant suite, from his complex Lego creations, to the television entertainment area, his overflowing bookshelf, his workout space, to the game area he set up with Clint. “I don’t want to go outside. I like it here.”

“Then why are you mad at me?!” he shouted, pointing an accusing finger at him… Steve quickly lowered it when he saw Bucky’s eyes narrow at the gesture. “Tell me, please? So I can fix it.”

Bucky flicked some of his hair over his shoulder, lifting his nose in the air. “I’m not mad.”

“That’s bullsh*t, Buck, and you know it,” Steve growled, scowling at his friend.

Rolling his eyes, Bucky chuckled bitterly. “For someone who always thought himself so smart, you’re an idiot, Rogers.”

Steve’s shoulders hunched at the antagonizing comment, and he was up and out of his chair before he could think it through. “Fine. I’ll leave you alone, then, if that’s what you want.”

He childishly slammed the door on his way out and angrily jogged up the dozens of flights of stairs to his apartment, surprising himself when he ended up on Natasha’s floor instead of his own.

Fortunately, she was home, and Steve retold the entire story to her, pacing back and forth across her living room floor while she watched with a raised eyebrow.

When he finished, Natasha sighed loudly, shaking her head at him, and f*ck, what was he missing?! “Steve. Barnes is right, you really are an idiot.”

“Clearly,” he huffed, crossing his arms and glaring down at her… before remembering his place and sitting on the floor, his back resting against the couch. “Natasha, help me, please,” he whined, too stressed by the fight to care about how much he was embarrassing himself.

“Okay, big guy,” she agreed, patting his shoulder consolingly. “I’m gonna spell it all out, cuz I kinda feel sorry for you, so listen closely.” She waited for him to nod before continuing. “First, you missed your scheduled time slot and didn’t tell anyone, including Barnes, who was expecting you. Two, no one could fill in for you, because they didn’t know you were gone. Worse, Wanda didn't feel well, so she missed the afternoon. But since Wanda is lovely, she told Friday, who told Barnes… except, no one could fill in for her either, because we were all busy. Following so far?” He nodded, throwing his arm over his face… he f*cked up so bad already, and she wasn’t even done. “Three, Barnes was likely worried about you all day, thinking you’re on a mission. And no one was around to distract him from his panicked thoughts or tell him what was going on. Four, after a day of nonstop rumination, he comes to find out youweren't on a mission, you ditched him for Sam. So, he’s probably a nice mixture of jealous and hurt, and depending on how his brain works, he likely feels selfish for being jealous that you have other friends. And five, because you don’t have a single clue why he’s mad, it's highly likely that he's even more pissed off now than he was to start."

Steve spent a few minutes reflecting over her interpretation while she patiently turned back to the book she had been reading before his impromptu visit. “How the f*ck do I fix this?” he groaned, his strategic mind unable to come up with a single idea to get him out of this mess.

“No clue, Cap!” she grinned until she saw his distraught expression. “Grovel, maybe? I don’t know… Tony buys Pepper stuff when she’s pissed at him.”

“Does that actually work?” he asked doubtfully; Bucky wasn’t the materialistic type anyways, so he didn’t think that would be a viable solution for him.

“Well…” Natasha chewed her lip, turning the idea over in her head. “I don’t think it’s about the gift itself, like how expensive or rare it is. It’s more about finding something meaningful to the other person, something that shows you put in a lot of time, thought, or effort.”

“He really wants a harpoon,” Steve mused, his mind finally beginning to whirl with ideas.

“Steve, no,” she rejected, shaking her head. “That’s a terrible idea.”

He suddenly had an epiphany, a gift so brilliant, he couldn’t believe he didn’t think of it immediately.

“You’re the best!” Steve swore, excitedly standing up. He wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug before quickly letting go and patting her on the head a few times. “Fingers crossed it works, thank you, bye!”

Steve spent the rest of the day and into the early morning of the next day gathering the required items for his gift, and by the time he arrived at Bucky’s suite for lunch, he had two giant wooden crates filled to the brim at his feet.

“Hi, Stevie.” Bucky’s friendly greeting took him by surprise, and Steve almost tripped over his feet when he saw his friend cheerfully standing by the door, his hands casually tucked in the pockets of his jeans.

“Hey, Buck,” he distractedly answered, twisting around to grab the first box. “Take this for me, would ya?” Steve handed the crate off to a confused Bucky and then dragged the other one in.

“Did you raid a grocery store?” Bucky asked bemused, eyeing the random crates with trepidation. “I’m not that hungry.”

Steve glanced up after ensuring the boxes were still closed tightly, doing a double take when he saw his friend’s appearance - Bucky’s cheeks were sunken and his complexion sallow, the dark circles under his eyes standing out in stark contrast. His hair was messy and unkempt, like he’d run his fingers through it repeatedly, and Steve could see small bruises all along his flesh arm, like someone dug their fingers into his skin until they left marks.

“Bucky!” he gasped, carefully cupping his friend’s cheeks in his palms. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?”

Bucky chewed on his lip, his eyes darting around the room, unable to meet Steve’s. “M'sorry. For being rude.”

“And I’m sorry for giving you a really good reason to be rude,” Steve responded, his thumbs delicately tracing Bucky’s cheekbones. “You were right, I was an idiot -”

“No!” Bucky spat, his gray eyes a raging storm of emotion Steve couldn’t decipher. “I shouldn’t have said that, it’s not true. And it was mean.”

Steve grinned softly, unable to stop himself from booping Bucky’s nose. “Maybe. But it was true, pal. Natasha had to spell it out for me, and I’m sorry I was a jerk. I should have told you from the beginning I couldn’t make it.”

Bucky shrugged half heartedly. “It’s fine, I overreacted.”

Steve frowned, still concerned by Bucky’s rough appearance. “Buck, did something happen?”

“No,” Bucky said, sighing when he saw Steve’s stubborn expression sliding into place. He stared down at the floor, his next words so quiet, Steve struggled to hear them. “I thought you weren’t gonna come back.”

“Why would you think that?” Steve pondered aloud, his mind struggling to recall any part of their conversation that would give Bucky the feeling he wouldn’t return despite his anger.

“You missed dinner,” Bucky meekly replied, and f*ck, Steve had been so caught up in his gift idea, he hadn’t even gotten back to his apartment until well past midnight. “And at lunch yesterday, you said you’d leave me alone.”

“I’m so sorry, Bucky,” he hurriedly apologized, gently lifting Bucky’s chin up so he could meet his eyes. “I got so caught up with this project, I lost track of time, and I never meant to insinuate I would leave you alone permanently.”

“Okay,” Bucky blinked a few times, and Steve was going to throw himself off the Tower if he ended up making Bucky cry.

“Hate to say it, but you’re kind of stuck with me,” he vowed, reaching for Bucky’s hand. “I got you something.”

“You didn’t have to.” Bucky shook his head, frowning at the giant crates. “I don’t deserve -”

“You deserve anything and everything you want,” Steve interrupted determinedly. “And while I can’t give you all the things I believe you should have, I can finally give you something you wanted for a long time.”

“Okay…” Bucky peered curiously at the crates, and Steve could tell he caught his interest.

He ripped the lid of the first crate off.

Bucky frowned at the various parts and pieces. “Is this… ?”

Suppressing a smile, Steve shrugged, then ripped the second lid off.

“Steve!” Bucky gasped.

“You used to always say you were gonna be the best motorcycle mechanic on the east coast,” Steve explained nervously, hoping he hadn’t assumed Bucky would still have the same ambitions. “So I got you all the parts, pieces, tools, and multiple instruction manuals required to build your own bike. And there might be two more crates of parts upstairs if you want options on what to make.”

Bucky’s mouth dropped into a small ‘o’ and Steve froze when a few tears slipped down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry if I got it wrong, I just thought… oof.” Steve felt every bone in his back crack as Bucky threw his arms around him in a bruising hug, his cheek resting on Steve’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” he sniffed, and Steve exhaled with relief when he realized he didn’t f*ck up… again

Bucky spent all his free time tinkering with the bike, and Steve spent most of that time sitting quietly next to him, either perusing through mission intel, reading a book, filling the pages of his sketchbook, or simply observing his friend as he worked. But Bucky was reluctantly forced to put his project on hold when Tony was finally ready to swap Bucky’s old Hydra arm for his new high-tech version, made with the toughest metal known to mankind - Vibranium - from a country called Wakanda that Steve refused to admit he’d never heard of.

Bucky put on a brave face, assuring Steve he wasn’t scared or anxious, just ready to get the procedure over with so he could get back to his bike, but his old arm gave his nerves away, the metal plates changing and shifting frequently as if they didn’t know where they were supposed to go (Steve admittedly would miss the weird, whirring plates… Tony hated the sound and designed the new arm without 'all that ridiculous clanky nonsense', but Steve was quite fond of them).

Steve spent the entire day prior to the surgery in Bucky’s room, doing anything and everything to keep the both of them distracted from the impending surgery. By the time he’d brought Bucky down to the Medical wing and wished him luck, Steve was a bundle of nerves, his brain circulating nonstop through terrible scenarios of things that could go wrong. Bucky had patted him on the head and offered him a tense smile before sinking back into the emotionlessness of the Asset, and Steve couldn’t resist temptation, pulling him into a tight hug and subtly placing a kiss on the top of his hair before the nurse led him away.

“He’s going to be fine, Steve,” Natasha assured him, standing calmly in front of the window to the operating room, the view of Bucky blocked by Tony and some neurosurgeon called Dr. Strange (Tony had insisted he was the best of the best for this type of thing). “Tony knows what he’s doing, so Barnes is in good hands.”

Steve clenched his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms while he continued his worried pacing in front of the window. “You don’t know that Natasha. And they spent so much time bickering back and forth over every little thing, it didn’t leave me with very much confidence.”

Natasha turned to respond, but Tony’s voice coming from overheard startled them both.

“Cap?” Tony said over the intercom, his voice less confident than usual. It filled Steve with an impending sense of dread. “Can you come in here, please? Barnes keeps -”

Steve barged into the operating room before Tony could finish, anxiously coming to stand next to his awake friend… wait, why was Bucky awake? One of the reasons Steve felt comfortable allowing the surgery to happen in the first place was because they said Bucky would be asleep for the entirety of it.

“Stevie!” Bucky cheered when he noticed Steve standing next to him. “Hi, pal. They’re stealin’ my arm! Ain’t that wild?”

Steve glared at Tony accusingly, and the other man held his hands up placatingly. “Barnes keeps waking up, and we’ve already given him double the amount of anesthesia we usually give you, so we don’t feel comfortable giving him anymore.”

“His heart rate is a bit high,” Dr. Strange continued, looking down at Bucky who was starting to peer around in confusion. Steve had vehemently rejected the idea of strapping Bucky to the table as a precautionary measure, and he was glad he did; while Bucky didn’t seem overly concerned at the moment, Steve knew it’d be a different story if he woke up and found himself unexpectedly restrained. “But we’re hoping you can either get him back to sleep or at least distract him so we can continue.”

“Taking the old arm off is the hardest part,” Tony explained to Steve for the fiftieth time. “If he moves while we’re operating so close to his spine with the way Hydra designed the support structures…”

“He could be paralyzed permanently,” Dr. Strange calmly finished, stepping towards Bucky’s left arm. “Can you help or should we call it a wash? I’m a busy man with a lot to do.”

“Stevie!” Bucky called again, trying to reach him with his right arm. “Save me. I’m hungry.”

“Don’t move, Buck,” Steve instructed, using his left leg to pull the chair behind him closer. He sat down and carefully laced his fingers together with Bucky’s, nodding at Tony to continue; he could do this. He would do this, for Bucky.

“Hiya,” Bucky dazedly grinned, his eyes sparkling in the bright lights of the operating room; Steve realized it’s the most cheerful and carefree he’s seen Bucky since they were in their early twenties back in Brooklyn, before the war took everything from them.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve grinned back, trying to keep his emotions from spiraling out of control. “We’re gonna hang here for a bit okay? Get you a new arm, and then we’ll get some food?”

“Kay,” Bucky easily agreed, his eyes sweeping back and forth across Steve’s face as if he was trying to memorize every dip and curve perfectly. “Stevie?”

“Yes, Buck?” he asked, internally wincing at the sound of the saw, but Bucky didn’t seem fazed, and Steve stupidly realized they’d put fancy earplugs in his ears - Bucky was likely reading his lips, and it explained why he was speaking so loudly.

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly, and Steve gently squeezed his hand to keep his focus on him in case he could finally hear the saw, or Tony and the surgeon talking to each other. “Are you real?”

Steve rubbed his chin with his free hand, pretending to consider the question. “Last time I checked, yes I was.”

“They said you were dead.” Steve’s heart stopped when he processed the implication of Bucky’s mumbled whispering, but he prayed he was wrong. Bucky hadn’t talked about his time with Hydra outside of what he told the others about their current operations, and Steve didn’t ask, because he couldn’t bear knowing how Bucky became the infamous Winter Soldier. He’d seen the file, which contained the bare minimum amount of information on the process of creating the Asset, but it explained enough; Bucky suffered tremendously, for nearly two decades, before they considered their brainwashing complete. “They showed me the newspaper clippings. Everyone said you died.”

“I’m here, Buck,” he promised, placing a soft kiss on their linked fingers, his heart thundering in his chest. f*ck, he had to keep it together; Bucky would rip himself right off the table if he saw Steve starting to breakdown. “I’m here. I’m real.”

“But I knew better, I didn’t believe them, not ever,” Bucky continued, glaring at Steve as if daring him to contradict. “I knew better. No one ever realized how strong you were, but I did, Stevie, I always knew.”

“You did,” Steve agreed, because it was true; Bucky saw something in him that no one else had long before the serum, including Steve himself.

“So I waited, and I held on through all the pain,” Bucky continued, his gaze distant as he stared at the window pane behind Steve. “I held on, cuz I knew you would come back for me.”

Steve inhaled sharply.

f*ck.

f*ck.

How many years did Bucky wait before he finally accepted Steve wasn’t coming back? That instead of looking for his supposed 'best friend', Steve had taken the cowardly way out by remaining on board the plane he dropped into the Arctic, unwilling to live in a world without James Buchanan Barnes by his side. How long did it take for him to realize Hydra wasn’t lying? When the Winter Soldier finally emerged, was that because Bucky realized no one Steve wasn't coming to save him?

Would Bucky ever forgive Steve when he learned the complete truth - that Steve never once made an effort to search for him? It didn’t matter that Bucky should theoretically never have been able to survive that fall from the train, Steve NEVERlooked for him. And Bucky believed in Steve, believed so strongly in him that he resisted Hydra’s unrelenting efforts for almost twenty years, through unimaginable pain and torture and trauma, and yet… Steve never looked for him.

“You d-did… you did well, Buck,” Steve praised, choking on his words. He was scum, he was so insanely unworthy of the unyielding loyalty Bucky has showed him since they were children. Taking a deep breath, he forcefully wrangled in his emotions. “I’m here, Bucky, I’m here.”

“You’re here,” Bucky gasped in awe, staring at Steve like he was some divine entity instead of the devilish spawn that he truly was. “I waited so long, Stevie, so long. But you’re here… I knew you’d come, I knew it. Told them… I told them you would come for me, would save me. They laughed and laughed, but I knew.” His eyes blinked rapidly, fighting the pull of the anesthesia. “Don’t… don’t leave me, please, please don’t leave me. I can be better. I can, I swear, I can be better for you… please don’t leave me, Steve I can’t be alone anymore, not again, not strong enough. Need you. With me.”

“I promise,” Steve declared firmly, swallowing back his tears and meeting Bucky’s hazy gaze. “I will never leave you, Buck, never And you’re more than enough as you are, you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

“Stevie and Bucky, Bucky and Stevie,” he giggled, and Steve could see him slowly slipping under. “Ma said we were a pair, never to be separated.”

“She was a wise woman,” Steve grinned, hoping Bucky was too far gone to see how fake it was. “Close your eyes, Buck.”

“No,” he whined, pouting at Steve. “You never have time for me no more.”

“I’ll be here when you wake up,” Steve promised, widening his own eyes and extending his lower lip. “Please, Buck, for me?”

“Ugh, fine. But I w-want... tacos. Dinner. Kay?” Once Steve agreed, Bucky obediently closed his eyes and quickly drifted off to sleep.

Steve rested his forehead on the operating table next to Bucky’s right arm, unwilling to meet the gazes of Tony, the surgeon, or worse, Natasha’s on the other side of the window.

“You did what you could, Cap,” Tony softly said. “What happened to Barnes wasn’t your fault.”

“I never looked for him,” Steve emotionlessly responded, squeezing his eyes shut, unwilling to allow his tears to fall; he didn’t have the right to cry, not when what happened to Bucky happened because of him. He should have been the monster in Bucky’s portrait of them, he was worse than Hydra after all. “He believed I was coming to save him for nearly twenty years, but I never once looked for him.”

Chapter 5: True North

Chapter Text

Steve spent another hour with Natasha, allowing her to make him a cup of exotic tea from the tin he brought while they discussed Wanda’s progress in her training regiment.

A weight he didn’t realize he carried was lifted from his shoulders after his visit; he still felt guilty over his actions and worried over Bucky’s reaction to this morning’s incident, but it was therapeutic to talk to a friend about everything.

Besides Bucky, Steve never really had any other friends he felt comfortable confiding in growing up. It made having arguments and fights with the brunette exceptionally difficult to handle with no one besides his Ma to talk about them with… and there were some (a lot) of things he was unwilling to divulge about their friendship to her (like how Bucky hated how many physical altercations Steve found himself starting).

Naturally, his improved mood was destroyed the moment the elevator doors closed behind him.

“Captain Rogers!” Vision called, entering the elevator through the wall behind Steve.

Steve jumped a mile high, unable to get accustomed to such intrusions no matter how often they seemed to occur these days. “Jesus f*cking - hey Vision, what can I do for you?”

“Friday, please hold the elevator… I am to believe this conversation is one of a delicate nature, though I could be incorrect as my emotional logic is still a work in progress.”

Steve’s pulse spiked at the words, and he shifted to face the new Avenger as the elevator came to a smooth stop. “What happened?”

“You see, Captain, nothing actually did happen, but it is what almost happened that is concerning to me.”

The possibilities behind such a statement were infinite; had Bucky almost hurt someone? Had a former Hydra agent tried to break into the building? Had Bucky almost tried to… had the Asset tried to terminate itself?

“What almost happened?” Steve demanded, tone stiff and commanding as Vision floated nervously back and forth in the small space.

“I do not know how to -“

“Spit it out!” Steve guiltily adjusted his tone at the stunned look he received. “Sorry, please, please just tell me what is worrying you so I can do something about it.”

“I believe I walked in on Wanda and Sergeant Barnes as they were about to be… intimate…”

Steve’s mouth dropped wide open, his heart violently stuttering in his chest at the outrageous statement. “… what?”

Vision nodded, finally coming to a stop in front of a shell-shocked Captain America. “I entered her room, through the wall since the door was open, and they were both unexplainably flushed, sitting on her bed, suspiciously close. She was leaning towards his mouth, her hand on his chin, and his eyes were closed. Sergeant Barnes positively fled after I announced my presence.”

Yes, fleeing the scene after awkward interactions tended to be a common theme with Bucky lately; Steve wished he could disappear for this conversation… too bad this elevator wasn’t made of glass like the one in SHIELD headquarters had been.

“Were they… clothed?” he paled, asking because he needed to know, but somewhat terrified to find out.

“Oh yes,” Vision clarified. “It was a ‘kiss on the lips’ type of intimacy. But I do not think that is generally something friends do?”

“No,” he shook his head. “Well… I don’t really know about what people do these days, but I haven’t seen anything like that so far. Did Wanda say anything?”

“Oh, dear Wanda.” Vision sighed wistfully, shaking his head. “She seemed to believe I was created yesterday and told me some tale about wanting to practice her makeup on him.”

“I mean, typically I would say that practicing makeup on him seems more likely than them being… together, but…” Steve tapped his chin, recalling the scene earlier this morning. “He did seem awfully fussed over his hair today, and they have been spending a lot of time together.”

“Should we… do something?” Vision questioned, beginning his non-walking version of pacing again. “Wanda is in a very precarious emotional place right now. Her brother has just been brutally murdered, she’s living in a foreign country where she hardly knows anyone, and frankly, I do not think a dalliance with an ex-brainwashed Hydra assassin would be healthy for her, ever, but especially right now.”

“Excuse me,” Steve gritted his teeth at the audacity of the synthezoid. “She’s in a much better place than Bucky, who as you mentioned, was tortured and brainwashed and used against his will for seventy-f*cking years, who likely hasn’t had non-abusive touch since the 40’s, and who frankly is likely the one being taken advantage of in this situation…if there’s actually a situation.”

Please don’t let there be a situation, he silently prayed.

“Well, I hope we are rational enough to accept that we both view such a ‘relationship’ to be undesirable, regardless of who we believe the wronged party to be. So… should we do anything?”

“I think… we just have to support them, and hope we’re wrong?” Steve suggested, biting his lip in thought. “Maybe feel things out for the next few days and confront them if need be… the Team can’t have any secrets like that, it gets too messy. But they’re both adults so there’s not much we could do… and if they find happiness in each other, then...”

Vision reluctantly nodded. “I will be in touch if I hear or see anything else.”

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but Friday cut him off.

“Pardon the interruption, but it seems as if Thor has just returned from Asgard - he’s arrived on the tarmac in a bit of a state.”

“Thank you, Friday. Could you tell me where Bucky is, please?” (If he internally had his fingers crossed that the answer would be somewhere where Wanda wasn't, well, no one had to know.)

“Sergeant Barnes is in your living room, reading a novel. Ms. Maximoff is heading up to greet Thor with Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton.”

“Then, I will leave you here, Captain Rogers, good day.”

Engrossed in the third Harry Potter installment with past-Bucky reading over his shoulder (Winter was napping flat on his back on the coffee table like a weirdo), Bucky heard the sound of the elevator gliding open, and the heavy footsteps resounding on the wood flooring told him who they belonged to without needing to look up.

‘Bye bye,’ past-Bucky smirked, reaching out to pinch Bucky’s cheek (which was a strange experience considering he could see it happening but didn’t feel a thing).

“Hey Stevie,” he greeted from his spot laid out on the couch, casually flipping the page in his book with a finger on his flesh hand. He wished their Tower apartment had a bay window like his house with Caleb did, the comfy bench seat being the ideal place to read or relax while catching some sunlight. It’d been his favorite place in the house (after he got a semblance of control over the fear of being in front of large, glass windows without full Kevlar) besides the basem*nt where he spent the rest of his time.

“Uhhh, hi, Buck,” Steve returned uneasily, taking a seat on the rarely-used recliner.

Bucky’s heart froze at the tone, and he worriedly peered over his book to observe his friend. Steve’s face was blazing red, and he kept fidgeting with his hands in his lap. His posture was ramrod straight, like he was about to deliver bad news.

“You good?” Bucky tentatively asked, his own eyes trained at a spot to Steve’s left, too embarrassed from this morning’s events to make eye contact just yet.

“What?” Steve questioned, startled from his thoughts.

Bucky tapped his own cheek and quirked an eyebrow at Steve. “I could fry an eye on those cheeks, pal.”

“Oh! Ummm, yes.” Steve gave an awkward fake laugh that he quickly turned to a cough. “I just got back from hanging out with Natasha in her apartment.”

Oh. Oh.

‘Guess Steve still has a thing for dangerous dames,’ past-Bucky groaned in despair.

‘We are significantly more dangerous,’ Winter sneered back. ‘She is subpar at best, and that’s only if we’re being generous.’

‘And we’re better looking,’ past-Bucky fiercely added.

‘But we’re also, ya know… a guy,’ he pointed out to the others.

No part of him had a response to that.

“That sounds… fun,” Bucky mumbled back, lifting his book in front of his face so Steve couldn’t see the resentful look he knew he was wearing. He valiantly tried to refocus his mind back to the story, unwilling to let his mind conjure images of what Steve and Natasha would have been doing for Steve to return looking like that .

“Uh, yeah, she’s something alright, I think you two would really get along.”

Bucky chewed on the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from snarling aloud at that claim, every part of him internally screaming their disagreement to such an absurd statement.

After a heavy silence, Steve changed the subject. “What chya reading?”

“Harry Potter,” he answered distractedly, eyes gliding easily over the pages.

“I thought you read that already?” Steve hesitantly asked, and Bucky could practically see his little confused pout in his mind’s eye.

Bucky slowly lowered the book on his chest and made sure Steve’s gaze was on him before exaggeratedly rolling his eyes. “There’s seven of them pal, this is the third. How have you survived this long without anyone bullying you into reading these...or watching the movies at least? They're iconic, they’re unprecedented… Steve, there’s even a whole theme park!”

Steve chuckled, lifting his hand to sheepishly rub the back of his head. “Well, you know how I feel about being bullied into things… might have just resisted on principle.” He shrugged, unconcerned.

“You’re so petty, sometimes, dear lord,” Bucky scoffed, chucking one of the couch’s few throw pillows at the other Super Soldier and successfully pelted him in the head. “You’re missing out on so many good things in the future, and for what? Pride? Stubbornness? It’s okay to try new things, Steve, I promise. You can enjoy your new life and still appreciate and cherish your old life as well, ya know?”

“I guess.” Steve sighed, his shoulders hunching. He didn’t say anything for a few minutes, gaze far away, so Bucky went back to his book to give his friend some time to think it over.

Steve suddenly pelted the pillow back at him, and Bucky easily punched it out of the air, sending it flying straight back into Steve, the blonde barely dodging it before it hit him in the head (again). “God, what the f*ck?” he grumbled, to which Bucky only smirked and casually turned another page in his book. “Well how about this… I’ll let you try out everyone’s recommendations, and then if you recommend it to me, I’ll watch or read it.”

Bucky rolled his eyes but accepted the compromise. “Fine, I’ll be your own personal filter for the modern world. But I expect to be paid for my services, I don’t work for free anymore, Stevie.”

“Oh yeah? Thought you were rich,” Steve laughed, his eyes crinkling with the strength of his breathtaking smile.

“I don’t need your money, Rogers,” he rebuffed, glaring at his friend and hopefully appearing unaffected after getting dazzled by such a look being directed at him. Good lord, he’s sure his heart skipped a few too many beats for it to be considered healthy. “Just little things. Like you gettin’ up off your sorry ass and bringing me a jar of that expensive peanut butter I know you’re hiding somewhere...and a spoon, cuz I’m not a savage.” (Bucky knew Steve had hidden the goods in a large box of oatmeal, likely assuming Bucky would never check there because he hated oatmeal… it was cute of Steve to think he could hide anything from him within this apartment.)

“Buck, no, we talked about this, you can’t just eat it - “

“This is modern adulthood, Stevie,” he purred as he brought himself into a seated position, legs tucked under him. He leaned forward, staring directly at Steve. “I can eat it straight out of the jar if I want to, and I will not listen to anyone telling me otherwise, even you. Don’t let the capitalist media tell you how to live your life…weren’t you just telling me how you hated people bullying you into doing something just because they think you should?”

Steve deflated, unable to fault such logic. “Yes, you’re majesty, I’ll go get it.” He stood up, brushing imaginary dirt off his pants. “Anything else?”

“For now? No. But I’ll make you a list of things I’ve already tried and think you’ll like…” Bucky hesitated, but after seeing how Steve didn’t seem too bothered after this morning’s events, decided to take a chance. “And then you can pay me back by going to a park with me so we can read outside, or by being my own personal hair-stylist for the day, or by bringing me more modern delicacies… like cronuts. Have you ever had a cronut?”

“Those are all things I can do, and I’m sure you’ll come up with even more,” he chuckled to Bucky’s immense relief. “And I cannot say that I have had a cronut.”

“Ugh, Steve,” Bucky groaned, tossing his head back in despair. “You’re killing me here.”

“Sorry, Buck,” Steve patted his head as he walked by on his way to the kitchen. “So… I’ve got a few meetings over the next few hours, but after that, how do you feel about going out for dinner tonight? Nothing intense, maybe just hitting up this food truck a few blocks from here, and we can eat on the roof like the old days.”

Bucky perked up, previous angst forgotten. “Really? What kind of food?”

“Tacos?” Steve shouted from the pantry.

Bucky blissfully closed his eyes. “I LOVE tacos.”

“I know, Buck, trust me, considering anytime we order delivery, you make me pick somewhere where you can get tacos.”

Despite all the drama they’d recently gone through, their dinner plans went off without a hitch. Bucky frequently had to remind himself that it was not a date (regardless of how much he secretly wished it was), but other than that, he had an excellent time. They both agreed walking to the food truck would be better than driving there, and the two of them stuck closely together down the bustling sidewalks in their “disguises” (Steve assured him that sunglasses and a baseball cap pulled low worked for him, but Bucky and Winter were both highly skeptical). Bucky stuck to his long-sleeves despite Natasha’s tech on his metal arm, unfortunately keenly aware of how easily it could falter, but he wore one of his nicer outfits and his new black ankle boots which made him look “dashing” (according to Steve, which had Bucky blushing madly and hiding for a few minutes in the bathroom to collect himself before they could leave).

He was blown away by how good the food was, and Steve swore up and down that he’d take Bucky there anytime he wanted to go. They ate on the roof of the Tower as a safety measure, but after spending hours talking and laughing without a care in the world (and eating their body weight in tacos and nachos), Bucky was immensely glad he didn’t have far to go before he could collapse in his bed (though Steve had to lock his muscular arm around Bucky’s flesh one and all but drag him down the rooftop stairs, refusing to allow the brunette to scale the building to enter the apartment via the window because he was too “lazy” to walk).

After that, the rest of the week flew by in a blur of productivity and socializing, sprinkled in with a heavy mix of Bucky’s tears because the world f*cking had it out for him, he swears.

On Thursday, he finally got around to cleaning his array of weapons, stealthily slinking around the Tower and disassembling each gun in a nearby air vent to clean it before safely stowing it back in whatever random spot he’d originally stashed it in. It should have been a prideful endeavor, but by the time he finished combing through the remaining guns hidden in their apartment, he realized he hadn’t come across his favorite rifle in the process.

Winter, who had been suspiciously silent and brooding behind him the entire time, anticipated this and immediately launched into a vicious tirade that stunned both him and past-Bucky into speechlessness. Evidently, the remnants of the Winter Soldier had not handled the socializing and emotional whirlwind of the last few days very well, as made apparent by his scathing verbal attack in which he listed anything and everything Bucky had done wrong since arriving at the Tower several months ago in excruciatingly vivid detail (and with commentary on what Winter himself would have done in his place).

Bucky couldn’t find it in himself to celebrate finding the gun on his own after that (under their sofa, go figure), and by the time Steve returned to the apartment late in the afternoon, he found his friend silently sobbing on the couch, clinging to his unloaded rifle like it was a teddy bear.

Poor Steve had been so flustered trying to figure out what was wrong, Bucky all but inconsolable as he wept facedown on the cushions; the only thing Steve could discern from his wailing was, “my gun,” “bad soldier,” and “terminated”, which had jolted the blonde into action.

After a lot of maneuvering, he managed to pry the rifle away from Bucky, dropping it carefully onto the coffee table. Steve then manhandled the brunette into a seated position and sat down next to him, holding his arms wide and audibly sighing when his distraught friend flung himself into his hold. He managed to calm Bucky down by rubbing soothing circles onto his back while softly singing a few of the Gaelic lullabies his Ma would sing to them when they were children; by the time Bucky’s tears were dry, and he was just occasionally hiccupping into Steve’s ear, the blonde had settled on a game plan.

“Do you want to go to the shooting range today?” he offered, wordlessly wiping Bucky’s face with a tissue from the side table.

Bucky scrunched his nose at the action, but refused to lift his head from Steve’s shoulder. “Am I even allowed?”

Steve hesitated, and Bucky’s bottom lip trembled. “Yes, of course, don’t be silly. We’ll go together?”

“But you hate shooting,” Bucky mumbled, refusing to allow himself to get excited.

“Yeah, but you don’t, and I like hanging out with you,” Steve grinned, and Bucky had to turn his face the other way to keep from doing something even more embarrassing than crying his eyes out and getting snot all over his closest friend.

“Oh. Okay. That sounds nice. Can we stay like this for a bit, though?”

Steve didn’t answer, simply tightening his arms around Bucky, and the former-assassin fell into a much needed (albeit short) slumber.

Their time at the range was, thankfully, undramatic, and Bucky liked to think he wowed the other Super Soldier with his flawless shooting (especially since, despite his enhanced eyesight, Steve was only a decent shot and had a lot of room to improve). At the bare minimum, he alleviated some of Winter’s fears, considering the Soldier appeared in his room that night with a mumbled apology and even accepted past-Bucky bullying them into a group hug (which was just as weird as it sounded, but it lifted a weight off Bucky’s heart, so maybe his past-self knew what he was talking about).

Friday started off rough, since Steve left ass early in the morning to go visit Wilson in DC; Bucky had been invited, of course, but he had oh-so-kindly declined that offer, because he’d rather chew glass for the rest of his life than spend any time with that guy.

But Bucky refused to be bitter about it, because it made his plans to visit Caleb (with Wanda) a million times easier. His initial intention was just to hang out in the house and spend time with them and his cat family, but Wanda had other ideas, handing him a duffle bag completely stuffed with unknown items as they left the Tower.

It turned out, Wanda was truly a genius and realized this was the perfect time to change his hair up. Caleb tossed him a tank top and baggy athletic shorts to change into (thank god he left clothes here, because he definitely would not fit his lean frame into Caleb’s much larger garments without showing a lot of skin in the process) and then Wanda forced him into a chair in the middle of the kitchen (claiming it was because she had more space to move around, and Caleb could help, but it also prevented Bucky from monitoring their progress in the mirror...which was probably for the best, because after all this time, he was kind of protective over his hair).

The hair clippers only made him tense because he was afraid she’d butcher his gorgeous hair while shaving the undercut (and Winter had the same qualms, yay progress), but Caleb assured him afterwards it looked good. The hair lightening part was the f*cking worst, holy hell, the pungent stench burning his nose and eyes the entire time; Bucky was grateful when they took a break for lunch after that part, Wanda making him pinky promise he wouldn’t look at his reflection until she was done.

By the time they left hours later, Bucky was sporting a fresh undercut that magically made styling his hair so much f*cking easier; between having less hair overall and the style giving him an edgy look when he pulled his hair up or to the side, Bucky would have been satisfied with this alone.

But Wanda took her job seriously, and Bucky’s brunette locks were lightened before being dyed a brilliant swirl of dark blue and black with purple highlights splashed in. The coloring wasn’t outlandish or shocking, and Bucky absolutely loved it (plus the serum kept his hair silky and smooth, something Wanda bemoaned the entire walk home, complaining that the lightening process alone would have destroyed her hair).

Past-Bucky and Winter liked the new style, with Winter labeling it “efficient” and past-Bucky proudly commenting that he looked “hotter than ever.”

Naturally, there was one flaw in his plan.

It turned out, Bucky’s half asleep self did not understand exactly what Steve was talking about this morning and misinterpreted a vital part of his friend’s plan.

It turned out, Steve wasn’t visiting Wilson in DC today - he was driving down to pick him up and bring him back to the Tower for some Stark fundraiser tomorrow afternoon that Bucky (blessedly) did not have to attend (and why Wilson couldn’t drive himself or ya know, fly here with his little stupid metal bird wings, Bucky had no idea).

It f*cking turned out, though, that Wilson refused to allow Steve to drive back in this evening’s violent thunderstorm (which a part of Bucky agreed with, but still… f*ck Wilson), and so when Bucky excitedly bounded into the apartment to show off his new look, he was met with utter silence.

Fortunately, Peter had made it to the Tower before the storm, and so the three of them had a sleepover in Wanda’s living room, complete with way too many snacks, delicious homemade coffee drinks, and surprisingly tasty frozen pizzas.

Saturday found Bucky in a f*cking mood - Steve and Wilson would be arriving with barely enough time for them to get ready for the event, and Steve promised he’d catch up with Bucky later this evening when everything was over (Bucky praised whichever gods would listen that Wilson had his own floor in the Tower and would not be staying with them).

He allowed himself to be cajoled into a Netflix marathon in the Tower’s common area, the teens both wanting to watch some show about Shadows and Bones or something on the obnoxiously large TV screen (Winter approved by title alone). Clad in his own comfy clothes and bundled into his Snuggie, Bucky initially listened with half an ear, choosing to have a therapeutic bitching fest internally with his former-selves instead. The romantic undertones of the story eventually caught his attention, and soon he found himself blinking back tears and avidly avoiding Peter’s concerned glances.

By the end of the fourth episode, however, he was bawling (silently, thanks Hydra) into his blanket, completely moved by two of the main characters (who were childhood best friends), discussing their growing feelings for one another in a series of letters.

Peter assertively paused the show, and it looked like Wanda was about to leave the loveseat she claimed to come sit with him on the couch when the stairwell door slammed open, startling all three of them.

“Buck, oh my god, are you okay?” Steve hurriedly asked, joining him on the couch and dragging him into a tight embrace. “Did you guys make him watch something where an animal died?!”

“Uh, no,” Peter denied, and after hearing the disdain in the teen’s voice, Bucky belatedly realized he’d forgotten to tell him that Steve and him made up… oops. “Um, it’s just a story about two best friends. No death, or torture. Just, uh…feelings?”

Steve didn’t respond, but gently arranged Bucky protectively into his lap (again), Snuggie and all.

Bucky was frozen, too mortified by the ordeal to move; how did Steve even know he was upset? Was he spying on him, or did someone rat him out? And how could he coddle Bucky in front of the children?! Dear lord, how embarrassing! He had his ‘cool’ reputation to keep up, after all, and this would most certainly not help maintain it.

“Peter, I think we should sneak into the kitchens and grab some of those fancy appetizers Tony was talking about earlier.”

Wanda hauled Peter out of the common area before the teen could respond.

With his audience gone, Bucky buried his tearstained face into Steve’s neck, sighing deeply when Steve began rubbing his back.

“Wanna talk about it, Buck?” Steve murmured, resting his chin on Bucky’s hair.

“No.

Steve very lightly pushed a piece of hair off Bucky’s forehead, and then used his suit sleeve to blot some of his tears. “Okay.”

‘You told me about cardinal north and True North. Cardinal north is a direction on a map. True North? True North is home. It is where you feel safe and loved. You have always been my True North, and if I am to survive this, I need to be home again, with you.’

Bucky took a deep breath after recounting the story. “And I just felt that, you know? Cuz you’re my True North, Steve, since the earliest days when we first met. I never wanted to be anywhere else except by your side.”

Steve breathed in sharply, and Bucky felt a few tear drops splash onto him (Winter for once, didn’t throw a hissy fit at seeing Steve in pain). “I feel the same, Bucky. You’re my home, too, and I was undeniably lost without you. Every single day, I am so goddamn thankful you came back to me.”

Bucky smiled softly, not that Steve could see it. “I will always find my way back to you. Told ya since day one, you’re stuck with me.”

Steve’s chest rumbled with quiet laughter. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, Buck… but hey, not to change the subject out of nowhere, but did you dye your hair? Seems different.”

‘Mildly surprised he noticed,’ past-Bucky giggled. ‘He’s never been the most observant.’

“No,” Bucky denied, nuzzling his face into Steve’s neck. “You’re drunk, let’s go home.”

“I’m already home,” Steve whispered, and Bucky couldn’t help the scoff that escaped his lips.

“You’re sappy, Rogers.”

Steve huffed and stood up, keeping a firm arm around Bucky’s middle; Bucky wrapped his legs around Steve’s petite waist, accepting being carried home this one time. “That was f*cking clever, give me some credit.”

“Nah, what’s going to be clever is how you’ll convince Stark not to come up here and drag you back down to his fancy party.”

“sh*t.”

[WinterIsComing]: Hey guys, can we finish the show tomorrow? Not feelin well

[TheRedWitch]: Of course, James! I’m sure Steve will help u feel better ◕‿↼

[TheRedWitch]: Oops, I meant ◕‿◕

[PeterHouseStark]: lol works for me! Hope u feel better too

[TheRedWitch]: 11am, common area?

[WinterIsComing]: sounds good, thank u! Sorry for bailing

[PeterHouseStark]: all good man, these snacks at the party are legit

[TheRedWitch]: see u tomorrow! ♡＾▽＾♡

[PeterHouseStark]: ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

[WinterIsComing]: ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ

Sunday started off much better for Bucky; he woke to the smell of a delicious breakfast wafting through the apartment, and by the time he stumbled out of his room, Steve had set the coffee table with a giant breakfast of eggs, toast, bacon, sausage, and potatoes, complete with Bucky’s favorite coffee and Tangled set up on the screen, ready to play.

“You liar!” Steve shrieked when Bucky sat down on the couch next to him, pointing an accusing finger and almost taking Bucky’s eye out.

“Oh?” Bucky raised an eyebrow, cheeks stuffed full with food.

Steve reached out and twirled one of Bucky’s darker locks around his finger. “I knew it was darker. Looks good, Buck. Suits you.”

(Bucky was undeniably pleased he could still use his hair to hide his heated cheeks, because, sheesh, Steve should warn a guy before he starts throwing out compliments like that).

By mid-morning, he was back in the common area with the teens to finish their series (and brought some leftover breakfast bowls because he didn’t completely trust them to feed themselves with anything adequate). After yesterday’s incident , he wasn’t too surprised when Steve followed him and situated himself on the couch next to Bucky (with the Sunday crossword, which had Peter chewing on the inside of his cheek to keep from cackling at the old man-esque behavior).

What he didn’t expect was f*cking Wilson to appear in the common area just as they were starting their current episode, apparently looking to spend some time with Steve before heading back to DC this afternoon (in a car Stark provided, thank god).

‘Pathetic,’ Winter sneered, appearing behind Bucky with his arms crossed, scowling down at the three of them on the couch.

‘I mean… can you blame him? Everyone wants to be close to Steve,’ past-Bucky noted, perched comfortably on the back of the couch in between Steve and Bucky.

By the time they made it halfway through the episode, Bucky was just about ready to leave the common area and reconvene in Wanda’s living room with only Wanda and Peter; Wilson and Steve were hunched over the crossword, bickering nonstop about answers, and Bucky felt his self control slowly slipping away.

Bucky snatched the remote off the armrest and purposefully turned the volume up a few notches despite being able to hear the show perfectly. Perhaps seeing his murderous expression or the knife he was using to clean his nails, Wanda coaxed Bucky into sitting between her and Peter with a wordless offer to braid his hair. They squashed together on the loveseat, Wanda at his back, seated on the armrest, and Peter literally sitting on Bucky’s stretched-out legs. It made tuning out Wilson’s stupid voice a little easier, especially since they were now done with the crossword, and Wilson was starting to comment on the show.

“Can you shut the f*ck up?” Bucky snapped after the fifth obnoxious remark. “Two of the three people who actually want to watch this show have enhanced hearing, and it’s hard to pay attention with your constant blabbering.”

“Bucky!” Steve scolded, and Bucky almost rolled his eyes at how offended the blonde looked.

“Hey, man, my bad, didn’t mean to distract you,” Wilson sincerely apologized, and Bucky gritted his teeth to keep from lashing out… again. “I’ll catch you later, Steve. Gonna see Tony for a bit before I head out.”

“Oh… okay, I’ll see you before you go, though?” Steve hesitantly asked, and Bucky kept his eyes resolutely on the TV while the two finished exchanging words.

“Go with him, Steve, it’s fine. You missed half the show already,” Bucky reluctantly offered once Wilson left.

“No it’s fine -“

Wanda tapped twice on his shoulder, indicating she was done styling his hair.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Bucky growled, turning to glare at his friend.

Instead of an angry or hurt look he somewhat expected, he was faced with a stunned Captain America, the blonde blinking owlishly at Bucky with his mouth forming a small ‘o’.

“What?” He nervously asked, casting sideways glances to the teens who shrugged confusedly back in response.

‘Stunned by our beauty, I’m sure,’ Winter haughtily suggested.

“I uh… didn’t realize you cut your hair, too,” Steve stammered, his cheeks flushing crimson. His mouth opened and closed a few times before clamping shut, his eyes looking anywhere but at Bucky.

“Wanda did, but yes…” he trailed off, running the fingers of his flesh hand over the buzzed areas… did Steve not like the look but didn’t want to hurt Bucky’s feelings by saying so?

“It looks good, but uh, I’ll text you later, okay?” Steve remarked, all but bolting to the stairwell without waiting for a reply.

“What just happened?” Peter questioned after the stairwell door clicked shut.

“No idea, pal.”

[CaptainAdorable]: Natasha I think my asthma is coming back

[CaptainAdorable]: I can’t breathe and my chest hurts

[LadyWidow]: f*ck, okay that’s not good. Go down to Medical, and i’ll wait with u while they figure out what to do next

[LadyWidow]: what were u doing before it started?

[CaptainAdorable]: nothing! Just in the common area with bucky and the kids

[CaptainAdorable]: did you know Wanda cut and dyed Bucky’s hair?

[CaptainAdorable]: It looks good

[LadyWidow]: i did not, but u can tell me allll about it in a few minutes

[Three-EyedHawk]: Nat, is Cap okay? Just saw him in Medical on the treadmill hooked up to a bunch of equipment

[MotherOfSpiders]: yeah, he’s fine

[MotherOfSpiders]: Barnes got a new look and took his breath away

[MotherOfSpiders]: literally (❋⊙‿⊙❋)

[MotherOfSpiders]: Like, he seriously thought his asthma was back… I was gonna wait with him through it, but after realizing what exactly was going on…

[Three-EyedHawk]: it was good of you to leave before you started laughing, he wouldn’t have taken that well

[Three-EyedHawk]: but phew, that’s a relief. glad to know Wanda did a good job on his hair!

[Three-EyedHawk]: I’ll cancel our ‘just in case’ plane tickets to Antarctica (^▽^;)

“Morning, Buck,” Steve cheerily greeted the next morning, as if yesterday's strange exit never happened.

“Mmmm’hi,” he grumbled, laying down on the couch and throwing his legs over Steve’s lap; he had not slept well last night, insecure and anxious thoughts warring nonstop through his mind, regardless of past-Bucky’s and Winter’s assurances that everything would be fine.

Steve adjusted his newspaper after Bucky “accidentally” smacked it with his foot. “You hungry?”

“Peanut butter.”

Steve sighed at the request. “Alright. You okay?”

“Mmmhm,” he yawned, his eyes closed and missing his friend’s concerned look.

“Nightmares?” Steve tentatively asked while folding his newspaper back together and placing it on the coffee table.

“No, just couldn’t sleep,” he truthfully answered.

Steve gently dropped a throw pillow onto his chest as he walked by, and Bucky wrapped his arms around it, snuggling it to his chest.

“Well,” he called from the kitchen. “I have a bunch of stupid sh*t to do today, but afterwards, do you wanna do some training in the gym together if you’re feeling better?”

Bucky’s eyes flew open once his sleepy brain processed the comment. “Really?”

‘It’s finally happening, please don’t mess it up,’ Winter pleaded. ‘Ugh, you’re gonna mess it up, aren’t you?’

‘We f*cking talked about this, Winter,’ past-Bucky hissed, piquing Bucky’s curiosity… perhaps that had been one of the many discussions between the two he tuned out.

‘f*ck. Whatever. You’re gonna do great, we believe in you, woo,’ Winter sarcastically cheered, and it actually brought a smile to Bucky’s face.

“We can do some individual stuff and then maybe spar at the end?”

‘Oh good lord, f*ck yes I would like to spar with Steve,’ he screamed internally. ‘But also. f*ck. Winter’s prediction is gonna come true, goddamn.’

‘You can do it,’ past-Bucky authentically encouraged because he was a standup type of guy. ‘Just don’t think about how big and muscular he is now, especially with his shirts being too tight all the time. How do they not rip? I bet they’ll rip today. Please let them rip today.’

‘Not. f*cking. Helping.’

“You ready to get your ass kicked again, Steve?” he taunted, trying to reign his thoughts back under control.

‘I don’t think that helps the mission. Or… does it?’ Winter contemplated. ‘We must analyze the pros and cons once he leaves.’

How fun.

“You didn’t kick my ass,” Steve rebuffed, glaring at him as he returned to the living room with the jar of heavenly peanut butter, spoon, and a cup of coffee because he was the best . Caffeine didn’t really work on them, with the enhanced metabolism and all, but it still tasted divine. “I let you win.”

Despite the excellent service, Bucky’s pride could not let such a comment go. “I kicked your ass every time we met, even when it was three against one…” he paused, dipping the spoon into the peanut butter and bringing it to his mouth, swirling his tongue around it to get the sticky substance off.

“And,” he used the empty spoon to point to his friend who strangely had a light blush adorning his cheeks, ‘we’re gonna talk later about how you were willing to give your life up so easily on the helicarrier, pal, cuz that kind of sh*t ain’t gonna fly anymore.”

“I trusted you,” Steve winced, averting his eyes away from Bucky who was dipping his spoon back into the jar. “And it’ll be just me and you, one on one, no guns, no knives -”

“No shield.”

“No shield,” he agreed with a nod. “Just us. And I know you haven’t trained for awhile, so we can take it -”

“Nah, nope, miss me with that bullsh*t, Steve,” Bucky scoffed, using a phrase he picked up from one of the kids and waving his spoon dismissively. “I have been in top physical condition for decades, a few months off won’t make a difference. We go full stop or nothing.”

Bucky eyed his friend up and down; poor Steve was hunched over and looked like he was regretting the whole conversation already.

“Scared, Rogers?” he taunted, raising a mocking eyebrow.

Where Bucky meant the phrase as a playful joke, Steve took it the complete opposite.

“No, of course I’m not scared of you, Bucky, please believe that, I meant what I said the last time,” Steve pleaded, eyes wide and earnest. “I just don’t -“

“Hey, hey,” Bucky cut in, patting his friend’s leg. “It’s a reference from Harry Potter. Which soon, you will know,” he glared at the blonde, as if daring him to argue. “I meant nothing by it, I swear.”

Steve’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Alright. But hey, I’ve gotta run, but I’ll meet you there at six?”

“Sounds good, see you later.”

Chapter 6: In Which Steve Loses His sh*t

Chapter Text

Bucky headed down to the gym before their agreed upon meeting time, finding himself too restless to do much of anything after Steve left (though his hour nap had been refreshing). His darker hair was secured into a tight bun at the top of his head, the shaven parts on full display.

He was excited to wear one of his new workout outfits, a black compression tank-top with matching compression shorts that Peter said fighters usually wear. He had no idea if that was true, but they were so comfortable, Bucky couldn’t believe he’s lived his life so far without them. They were form fitting but stretchy and would supposedly help keep him cool during training. Would he wear these in a real world fight? Definitely not, since they offered no protection from bullets and had no pockets for his knife collection. But for the gym? Bucky swore he’d never wear anything else again (they also made his backside look huge and his thighs thick and muscular, but that was just an added bonus).

By some blessing, he had the entire gym to himself, as the other Avengers were likely in the same meetings as Steve, and Peter was hopefully somewhere in Queens, not getting into trouble.

Of course, as soon as the first thought about the youngest hero crossed Bucky’s mind, the boy appeared in his line of sight, sluggishly entering the gym in such a despondent way, red flags and alarm bells instantly blared through Bucky’s mind. Peter’s shoulders were slumped, and Bucky could see the puffiness of his face and redness of his eyes even from this distance.

‘Alert! Alert! Sub mission Peter Parker is not okay. Unacceptable. Must be corrected immediately.’

‘Yeah, pal, I have eyes, but thank you.’

Bucky could feel Winter holding back a snarky comment. ‘Beginning observation and assessment now.’

Peter hadn’t noticed Bucky yet, considering he was staring at the floor as he whispered into the cell phone clutched to his ear, so the ex-assassin soundlessly dropped to a low crouch, hiding himself compactly behind a high-tech weight machine Bucky had no idea how to use. He focused his hearing on the teen’s conversation, feeling only a pinprick of guilt at the invasion of privacy.

“Yes, Ned, I’m fine, this day is just always hard for me and I couldn’t handle Flash today…” Bucky unfortunately couldn’t hear this Ned person, as Peter’s phone volume was turned to its lowest setting. “How did you know I left school with a guy?…” “Oh, there’s a picture of us at lunch? Lovely…” “No, Ned, I don’t have a college boyfriend. He’s just a friend of a friend who came to give me a ride…” “Yeah, I’ll be back tomorrow, but I gotta go now. At my internship. Talk to you later.”

Bucky watched as Peter slid his phone into his pocket and laid down on the bench in front of the sparring area. The teen screamed in frustration, his arm tossed over his face to muffle the sound.

‘Steve used to look like that a lot when the kids at school were particularly rough,’ past-Bucky whispered, his voice tinted with sadness for both Steve and Peter.

“You okay, kid?” Bucky concernedly asked, sliding out of his eavesdropping (observing) spot.

He is proud to say Peter’s next scream, unmuffled, did not make him wince, but it was a close call.

“Christ on a bike, Bucky, you can’t just pop out of places like that!” Peter squawked, hand on his pounding heart, yet effortlessly avoiding Bucky’s question. “My heart hurts, holy sh*t, I think I might be dying.”

‘Death is not acceptable to the mission parameters,’ Winter pointedly reminded him, as if Bucky somehow forgot such a glaring fact.

He frowned at the teen - no one appreciated his hard-earned ghost tendencies. “I’m sorry, I just dropped my knife.” He brandished the weapon he nicked from under the mysterious weight machine, one of several real blades he stashed strategically throughout the gym months ago.

“Didn’t Steve make a Team rule that there would be no real weapons in the gym?” Peter questioned, brown eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Well,” Bucky casually shrugged. “I’m not on the Team, so, aforementioned rule doesn’t apply to me.”

Peter frowned, and Bucky felt a bit bad about his cavalier attitude. “But it’s just for emergencies, anyways, not training. Which, by the way, I forgot to tell you… Steve and I talked over our… disagreement from last week, and we came to a compromise.”

“That’s great, Bucky!” Peter exclaimed, face brightening before he remembered he was still pissed at Steve. “I did kind of assume you worked everything out, considering Saturday’s… uh, incident, but I didn’t want to bring it up in case you guys hadn’t actually talked it over and were only pretending it never happened.”

“Yeah, well, on that note, Saturday evening never happened, please wipe it from your memory. But, he also apologized, profusely, for the things he said to Wilson and explained why he said them, so not gonna hash everything about here, but we’re fine. So, you can go back to liking him again…or at least, avoid him, but in a civil way? If you want?” Bucky added, awkwardly shifting his feet. He didn’t want to downplay Peter’s feelings, but he also hoped they could get along again.

“Fine,” Peter sighed, tapping his fingers against the bench. “I can play nice with Steve, I promise… But if he steps out of line again, I will certainly be telling him so!”

Bucky grinned, reaching out to ruffle Peter’s hair. “That’s fair, kid. You know you can call him Steve to his face, though, right? And not just when you’re being a smartass?”

Peter glared petulantly at Bucky, running his hand through his hair to smooth it back down. “Okay, I might have been a little extra sassy last week, but, in my defense, his face is hilarious anytime I call him some combination of Captain America and Steve Rogers.”

‘Can confirm, Steve’s reactions are priceless, but you gotta see them for yourself to get the full effect,’ past-Bucky cackled.

“Okay, I’ll check next time,” he laughed. “You do you kid.”

Bucky briefly debated with himself the pros and cons of asking Peter if he was okay again, but decided to take a different route instead. “Do you want to do some training with me today? We can do a light warm-up on the treadmill and then some body weight work. And if you stick around, Steve promised me a sparring session later.”

Peter’s doe eyes widened in excitement. “Oh my god, I would love to train with you! And you’re going to fight Captain America? Oh jeez, I can’t believe I’m going to witness that. Do you think you’ll win? Can he use his shield? Are you going to use knives? I’m going to cheer for you, even if that makes me feel unpatriotic, but whatever.”

“Okay. Yes. Yes you are. Yes, I do think I will win. No shield. No knives. Aw, thanks for cheering for me. Also, to answer your unasked questions, no guns, but yes, I am keeping my arm.”

“This is going to be legendary,” Peter gasped, removing his sweatshirt and grabbing a pair of gym shorts out of his backpack. Bucky turned away so the kid could finish getting dressed, apparently too lazy to walk across the gym to the locker room.

“Don’t get your hopes up, it’s just training.” Bucky warned, directing the hyper teen towards the treadmills when he finished changing. “Now, for a warm-up, we can start light...how about fifteen?”

“Minutes?” Peter clarified, already starting to push buttons on the machine.

“Uh… no, miles?” Bucky coughed, suddenly uncomfortable. He only had fleeting glimpses of previous training sessions as the Winter Soldier, but a fifteen minute warm up didn’t seem like much for two enhanced individuals.

“Jesus, okay, sure, fifteen miles it is.”

‘Fifteen minutes of all out sprinting is hardly a warm-up, what are they teaching this kid?!’ Winter screeched in his head. ‘This must be corrected at once, it is simply unacceptable.’

“I would like it to be known,” Peter wheezed, laying on the floor in the body-weight/stretching area of the gym. “That I do not love training with you, holy sh*t.”

“Sit up and drink some of that Stark Sports beverage or whatever it’s called, please,” Bucky directed while doing some challenging yoga poses to help preserve his flexibility and keep his muscles warmed. He checked his phone right after they finished, and Steve should be joining them soon.

Peter groaned but didn’t move, and his position reminded Bucky of a starfish he recently saw on an oceanic documentary.

Bucky sighed and wandered over to the small ‘Refuel Station’ near the entrance, returning to the splayed out teen with a jumbo-sized electrolyte drink and a protein muffin. At least Peter didn’t seem upset anymore, the exercise hopefully helping his mind settle down with the endorphins now coursing through his body.

“You good?” he asked, offering the kid a hand to drag him into a seated position. Bucky hovered a bit over the teen, making sure he drank at least half of the light blue beverage and had the muffin open before allowing himself to sit in front of him.

“That was worse than any physical fitness test, even before I got my powers,” Peter complained, glaring at the Super Soldier in front of him. His eyes widened upon seeing Bucky’s appearance. “Wait, hold up, how are you not even sweating? I was literally on my last breath after push-up one thousand, drenched in sweat, and you aren’t even flushed. This is… this is sorcery!”

“Or maybe it’s...gasp, practice?” Bucky half-shrugged before folding his body into a perfect downward dog position, his head on the mat and his hips as high as possible. He wasn’t an asshole, so he declined to tell the teen that the fifteen miles on the treadmill, plus one thousand each of pull-ups, push-ups, and sit-ups were all part of the warm-up.

The gym door opened before Peter responded, and Bucky watched upside down as Steve confidently entered the gym, his duffle bag of gym gear and lord knows what else slung over his right shoulder.

“Did you finish already?” Steve asked, his lips forming a pout when he saw Peter looking half dead and soaked in sweat, an immaculate Bucky stretching idly next to him.

“Nah,” Bucky answered, carefully lifting his legs into the air and adjusting himself into a flawless handstand. “Just warmed up, waiting for you to spar.”

“Just warmed up,” Peter mocked, mimicking Bucky’s flippant tone perfectly.

“Jealousy is a disease, get well soon,” Bucky cheekily retorted. He shifted into a one-armed handstand and performed a round of push-ups, alternating his arms as he completed each one, and then gracefully flipped to his feet.

“I never realized how much of a show-off you could be,” Peter snorted, rolling his eyes.

“That was really impressive, Buck,” Steve complimented, and Bucky stuck his tongue out at Peter when the blonde’s back was turned. “Can’t say I’ve ever had a knack for yoga… or gymnastics.”

“You gotta practice, dummy,” he brushed off, but internally preened at the praise. “Now, hurry up, and get ready - I want to prove to Peter here that I can kick your ass.”

“Buck, don’t cuss in front of the kid,” Steve admonished from halfway across the gym, heading towards the locker room to change.

‘Friendly reminder little Stevie Rogers taught all the young kids on our block a litany of cuss words even their parents didn’t know,’ past-Bucky added, baffled by this modern version of Steve.

“I’m not a kid,” Peter grumbled sullenly into his muffin.

“Course you aren’t, squirt,” Bucky obnoxiously cooed, easily catching the piece of food that was chucked at him and tossing it into his mouth. “Thanks for the food, bub.”

“You’re the worst,” Peter bemoaned, shaking a finger at Bucky. “I would chase you, but my legs are jello, so…”

“No webs in the gym, Peter!” Steve yelled in his ‘I-Am-Captain-America’ voice, reentering the room and immediately witnessing Peter pointing his wrist at a smirking Bucky. “You know the rules.”

“Yeah, Peter, the rules,” Bucky taunted, mimicking Steve’s pose by placing both hands on his hips and jutting one out just slightly. “So important, aren’t they?”

“BUCKY HAS A KNIFE IN THE GYM!" Peter screeched at Steve, pointing accusingly at Bucky and smartly scuttling further back so Bucky couldn’t swat at him. “I saw it.”

“Traitor,” Bucky hissed at the youngest Avenger, the boy sticking his tongue out in retribution.

Steve turned his disappointed expression on Bucky, and the ex-assassin quickly shifted to his best ‘who me?’ expression. “You know the rules, too, Buck.”

“Yeah, Buck,” Peter mocked, though it was hard to take him seriously since he was back to starfishing on the mat. “You should listen to Mr. America Rogers. Rules are important.”

Steve’s expression at the name was sadly kept hidden from Bucky, the Avenger simply face palming at the proceedings. “Jesus, okay, you ready to spar, Buck?”

Bucky gave the other man a considering look, his gray eyes sweeping up and down Steve’s relaxed posture. “You didn’t warm up... you don’t think this will be a challenge, do you?”

“Bucky’s workout was brutal and just short of being torture, and he didn’t even sweat,” Peter knowledgeably remarked from the floor.

“Kid… that all was the warm-up,” Bucky acknowledged, cringing. “We didn’t even make it to the real workout.”

Whelp, guess he was an asshole after all, but the kid deserved it after ratting him out to Steve for the knife (which was a safety precaution for emergencies, and safety always comes first, supposedly).

‘The mission always comes first, this is known. Why do they not understand this by now?’

(Bucky didn’t have an answer for Winter.)

Bucky almost laughed at Peter’s thunderstruck expression. “Oh my god, Bucky, you are insane.”

“I jogged here, it’s fine,” Steve impatiently cut in over their conversation, his arms crossed as he stared annoyedly at them. “Are you ready or not?”

“Running down a bunch of staircases doesn’t really count,” he chided, rolling his eyes. “But it’s your funeral. Come on, Peter, time to relocate.”

‘Funeral is mission failure.’

‘Yes, Winter, I know. It’s a figure of speech.’

“Carry me… oh my god, no I wasn’t serious!” Peter shrieked as Bucky lifted him up, tossed him over his right shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and deposited him on the bench in the sparring area.

“You’re the referee, Peter,” Bucky delegated, ruffling the kid’s hair again before making his way into the center of the sparring ring. “We need you to be focused and vigilant, because Steve Captain America Rogers is a good for nothing dirty cheater.”

Steve gasped and placed a hand dramatically over his heart, following Bucky into the circle. “False. Ain’t no such thing as cheating in a fight, unless you’re not fighting to win, of course.”

“Guess he’ll see, Rogers,” Bucky taunted, glaring at the blonde in front of him while quickly re-securing his long hair into a tight bun at the top of his head. Steve was wearing a pair of baggy black and silver gym shorts with a tight white compression tank top that left little to the imagination, and Bucky forced his eyes away until he could get his thoughts under control.

‘f*ck, ok Barnes, you got this. Just training with friends, no big deal. Winter, you ready?’

‘Do you even need to ask?’

‘Jeez, okay, no need to be sassy.’

Winter cleared his throat. ‘It has been decided that performing well in training means one step closer to going on missions, which follows the mission objective; protect Steve. It’s...alarming to fight whom we are assigned to protect, but we will do so as it’s been requested of us, for it brings us closer to the true goal.’

‘Watch for the elbows!’ past-Bucky warned. ‘And the teeth!’

‘Wait, what?!’

“You ready, Buck?”

Bucky nodded, trying to refocus himself after past-Bucky’s strange comment.

“We go on Peter’s mark,” Steve directed, his blue eyes focused intently on Bucky, assessing.

“Sounds good. Ready to lose, Rogers?” Bucky smirked when Steve just rolled his eyes.

“Three, two, one, and...go!” Peter excitedly called.

They both immediately dropped into fighting stances, Bucky centering himself and calming his emotions as he’d been conditioned to do so… of course, this wasn’t a fight to the death, but it was still a competition, and Bucky hated losing perhaps even more than Steve did.

Steve threw a sloppy right hook that Bucky easily dodged, providing the former-assassin an opening to kick out Steve’s legs, the blonde landing flat on his back with a grunt.

“That was quick… uh, point for Bucky!”

Bucky scowled down at his sheepish friend. “You know, it’s not really training if I just knock you around all day.”

Steve accepted Bucky’s hand to pull him up. “I know, I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you, but it’s also hard to remember that you can hold your own against me… that you’re enhanced, but also can uh,” his eyes quickly darted towards Peter, “spar properly.”

“Hey, I heard that!” Peter booed from the sidelines. “Don’t make me put you on my sh*t list again, Captain Steve America.”

“I’m sorry!” Steve hurriedly apologized. “You’re doing better than I did at that age, at least.”

“Can’t imagine how anyone could do worse than younger you and still be living to tell the tale... We’ll work on it, kid,” Bucky promised back, because, seriously, he was not going to let Peter get his ass handed to him out in the real world due to a lack of quality training. “Steve and I will hash out a training plan -”

“Please, lord, no, spare me,” Peter whined, flailing dramatically back onto the bench.

“It’s good character building,” Steve chuckled, winking at Peter when he glanced over at them.

“Anyways,” Bucky poked Steve firmly in the arm to get his attention. “How do you think it feels for me?” he challenged, his tone soft but his eyes pleaded for understanding. “I’ve spent my whole life watching out for you, protecting you. It’s hard to fight you, even if it’s just so we can get better in the long run. But, like you said, we’re the best competition for each other, so either we suck it up, or we find other ways to train.”

Steve ran a hand through his already messy hair. “You’re right, I know, we should -”

“Hey, I gotta take this!” Peter shouted, waving his phone in the air before darting off towards a different part of the gym.

Bucky watched him go, eyes narrowed. “We’re going to wrestle,” he decided moments later, resolutely nodding his head and turning back to Steve. “And… go.”

“What!” Steve cried as Bucky quickly ducked low, wrapped his arms around Steve’s middle, and shoved the other man onto his back, landing heavily on top of him and forcing the air out of Steve’s lungs in the process (mostly because it amused him more so than anything).

“Good, lord, Buck, you weigh a ton,” Steve groaned, trying to wiggle in an attempt to shake Bucky off him enough so he could breathe again.

Without looking, Bucky smacked a hand over Steve’s mouth, accidentally covering half of his nose as well as his lips. “Quiet!”

“Hey MJ…”

“Yeah, I’m fine, just at my internship…”

Steve’s brows furrowed in confusion at his antics until he noticed where Bucky’s gaze was steadily trained. “You can’t eavesdrop on Peter, that’s wrong!”

Bucky glared down at his friend, momentarily distracted by how startling blue his eyes looked in such a close position (they even had flecks of green swirled in the blue, and Bucky found it mesmerizing). “When he first came into the gym today, he looked like a kicked puppy who just got left at the pound… and like he spent the afternoon crying. I’ve heard some things already, and I am concerned, Stevie, so shut it so I can focus.”

“No, seriously, I’m fine, just was gonna lose my sh*t if I heard Flash call me ‘Penis Parker’ one more time or make fun of me for being an orphan, especially today since it’s the anniversary of my parents…”

Steve’s eyes widened in alarm, his jaw clenching in anger. “Okay, we’re moving,” the blonde warned before easily flipping their positions.

“No MJ, you don’t need to do anything like that, I think your right hook got your point across… which thank you by the way, but it’s been happening since elementary school, I’m used to it…”

“I can’t focus like this,” Bucky heatedly whispered back, flipping them again so he was back on top of the blonde, all while casually moving closer to Peter and appearing as if they were still training. “You weigh twice as much as I do.”

“He’s tried to out me before, he has no proof -...”

“Oh….”

“He’s just a friend…”

“Oh, people believe it now?...”

A pained sound escaped from Steve, and the Avenger began struggling harder in Bucky’s hold to free himself, forcing Bucky to use his full strength to keep Steve pinned down.

“Shut up!” Bucky hissed directly into his ear, Steve’s ivory skin flushing under him. Bucky chanced a quick glance towards Peter to make sure they weren’t being watched and was relieved to see the youngest hero had his back turned.

“It’s fine, I can handle a few slurs, it’s not a big…”

“I promise, MJ, I’m okay, I don’t care if people make fun of me for liking guys…”

Steve suddenly stopped moving, his muscles tensing rigidly under Bucky. He glanced down suspiciously, believing the sudden change to be a ruse, only to be blown away by how dark and purely murderous Steve’s expression looked.

‘Oh no, I’ve seen that face before,’ past-Bucky worriedly recalled. ‘Once. Still no idea what John Walkins said to make Steve look like that, but it was the only fight Steve ever won before the serum. I legitimately thought he was going to kill the kid, and John all but ran the other way anytime he saw Steve after that despite being three times his size.’

An image flashed in Bucky’s mind eye; Steve, with the same incensed expression he was wearing now, another similarly-aged teen beaten to a bloody pulp, and a horrified Bucky wrapping an arm around Steve’s frail form so he couldn’t hit the kid again.

“Get. Off. Me. Now.” Steve growled, glaring harshly at Bucky with stormy eyes.

“Can’t do that,” Bucky denied, blanching. “I understand your rage, but there’s nothing good that’s gonna come from the expression you’re wearing right now.”

“Bucky, one more warning. Get off me, or I will remove you myself.”

“Steve -”

Steve, the f*cking bastard, leaned up just enough in Bucky’s hold to bite him aggressively in the arm, fortunately not hard enough to draw blood. It did, however, startle Bucky so much that his body went slack long enough for Steve to somehow send him flying across the gym.

Bucky landed on his feet in a low crouch, his previous surprise gone the second he went airborne. He shot after Steve who was blindly storming towards the locker room in a murderous haze; Bucky knocked the blonde down with a harsh tackle from behind that echoed loudly in the quiet gym, angling his body just so to prevent Steve from smacking his face into the floor. The sound caused Peter to look towards them with concern, before going back to his phone call.

“Yeah, I’ll lay low for a few days…”

“Think, Rogers!” Bucky hissed beseechingly into his ear. “What are you going to do?”

“Commit murder,” Steve snarled back. “Now, get off me.”

‘We are… exquisite at murder,’ Winter purred in the back of Bucky’s mind. ‘We must prove it, and impress Steve so he will let us come on real missions; this is our chance!’

“Okay, fine, I’m coming with you,” Bucky grimly agreed, hauling a perplexed Steve to his feet by the back of his shirt. Maybe if he played along for now, he could prevent Steve from doing something he’d regret later on. And if Steve ended up going through with it, well… Bucky would be there to take the hit, both literally and figuratively, so Steve wouldn’t have to live with the guilt of his decisions. (Bucky had enough guilt to last him ten lifetimes, so what was a little more if it meant Steve could be free from it?)

Bucky would protect Steve, even if it meant protecting the blonde from his own choices.

“You don’t need to -”

“If you're going, then I’m coming, and that’s final,” he declared, his tone determined and unwavering. Steve must have seen something in his expression, because he nodded sharply in understanding.

“Okay, talk to you later, thank you.”

“Move!” Bucky shoved Steve roughly into the locker room in an attempt to avoid Peter witnessing their strange departure.

“I need a jacket,” he whispered, holding up his metal arm in explanation.

“I’ve got one in the Civic you can wear.”

Steve handed Bucky a pair of navy blue joggers to tug over his gym shorts, and he slipped them on absentmindedly while internally discussing mission logistics with Winter. He heard a sharp intake of breath and glanced up into the full-length mirror to see Steve staring at him with lips slightly parted, his eyes wide but trained low on Bucky’s form.

“Steve?” Bucky questioned self-consciously, turning around so he could look over his shoulder into the mirror and figure out what Steve was looking at (he would literally die on the spot if he ripped Steve’s pants already).

“Umm, I think my track pants are looser if you would prefer those?” Steve stammered, quickly turning back around to dig through his locker.

Bucky squinted at his reflection, rotating a few different ways before accepting that yes, Steve was staring at his ass because these pants, paired with the compression shorts for training underneath, made his butt look huge and accentuated the size and strength of the rest of his legs.

“I’m good, thanks, though,” he politely declined, grateful Steve’s back was turned so he couldn’t see Bucky’s smug grin.

After dressing himself in the pair of track pants instead, Steve reached up to the top of the locker and grabbed his gym bag, which Bucky was unsurprised to see contained his shield.

“So we’re definitely taking the Civic, right?” Bucky confirmed, to which Steve thankfully nodded - he’d been afraid they’d be running this operation on the back of the motorcycle he built for Steve. He could have made it work, of course, because he was a professional, but there were so many additional variables to consider with that mode of transport...like how he’d be pressed flush to Steve’s muscular form the entire time.

“Ok, good, I’ve got a rifle, a few handguns, some grenades, and a couple of knives in there, too.”

‘This is so exciting!’ Winter gushed, and Bucky could literally feel his eagerness. ‘It’s like our own personal mission with Steve.’

“What?!... you know what, I’m not going to ask.” Steve sighed, shaking his head. “There’s a backdoor we can use that’ll take us to the garage.”

“Hey, guys!” Peter’s voice cheerily called from a few feet away.

Bucky and Steve jumped in surprise, not having heard the youngest Avenger approach over their hurried discussion. The ex-assassin easily masked his expression into something blank and neutral, but he could see Steve in the corner of his eye cycling between rage and guilt, before landing on something calmer.

“Hey, Peter,” Steve greeted back, shifting his body minutely to block Peter from seeing his duffle bag with the shield stuffed in it. “We were about to go get pizza, do you want us to bring you something back?”

“Umm… can I come, please?” Peter hesitantly asked, doe-eyes wide and pleading while he anxiously shuffled his feet. Bucky screamed internally; he hated that look, it was so cute, and he felt like the biggest piece of sh*t in the world for not giving the teen exactly what he wanted.

“Uh,” Steve glanced towards Bucky, apparently unable to come up with a suitable reason why Peter couldn’t join them (or he just couldn’t deny that adorably hopeful face, which, fair - Bucky could be the bad guy, then).

‘Sorry, we have a murder date, and no children allowed?’ Winter unhelpfully supplied.

Foolishly, Bucky said the first thing that came to mind thanks to Winter’s contribution; “Sorry, Peter.” He winced on the inside as Peter visibly deflated. “It’s a date.”

‘You both are insane,’ past-Bucky chastised.

He snaked an arm around Steve’s middle, tugging the stunned man into his side. Bucky refused to meet anyone’s eyes, instead keeping his gaze trained right above Peter’s head,

“Oh my gosh!” Peter clapped his hands excitedly, his radiant smile almost blinding. “I’m SO happy for you guys! Was this planned before or did one of you ask the other out while wrestling or whatever it was… you know what, it doesn’t matter. I won’t keep you, bye, have fun, see you when you get back...with my pizza?”

Bucky dipped his head in acknowledgement, not trusting himself to speak, already knowing the kid’s order. He watched guiltily as Peter dashed back into the gym with a skip in his step, any sense of his earlier distress gone.

“Well…”

“Sorry! First thing I could think of.” Bucky attempted to wrench his arm back from where it was wrapped snugly around Steve, but the other man grabbed it back and assertively placed it around his middle once more.

“You did better than me, by far, I was f*ckin stumped. But we should keep up the illusion, just in case,” Steve grinned, pale cheeks dusted a mesmerizing pink. He reached out to playfully tap his finger twice under Bucky’s chin. “Got a feeling we’ll run into some more trouble, and a good cover would help until we can get out the road.”

“Yeah, okay,” Bucky breathed, feeling suddenly lightheaded in the enclosed space, especially when Steve casually placed his own arm around Bucky’s waist. “You got everything?”

“Yep, let’s go.”

Bucky, because he was a gentleman, tossed the duffle bag over his left shoulder, ignoring Steve’s questioning gaze, and briskly led them towards the staircase where they’d be forced to go down a f*ck-ton of stairs to the parking garage.

Bucky boldly pulled the other man closer under the guise of whispering plans into his ear. “You know where this Flash kid lives?”

“Uh...no, but we’re a couple of smart guys, I’m sure we can figure it out.”

Bucky’s breath caught at the word ‘couple’; he mentally kicked himself for getting flustered by something so trivial. He waited a beat, soon realizing Steve had nothing else to add. “Jesus, Rogers, you gonna ask me if I know?”

Steve unconcernedly glanced over at him. “Do you know, Buck?”

“I do,” Bucky smirked proudly, at least until Steve called him a liar, and he was forced to pinch the man’s side for having the audacity to doubt him. “I swear. I looked into it one day after Peter accidentally mentioned him to Wanda when talking about what his school was like.”

“Good,” Steve stiffly nodded, unperturbed by Bucky’s creepy yet useful stalking skills. “That makes everything easier.”

‘I told you looking into that information would come in handy,’ Winter smugly remarked.

They reached the correct landing, but Bucky promptly blocked Steve from opening the door by muscling their connected bodies sideways until the blonde’s back was pinned against the wall; Bucky’s metal arm now encircled Steve’s slim waist instead of his flesh one and the bag with the shield was carelessly dropped somewhere near the stairs.

“Bucky,” Steve growled warningly, his eyes lighting in frustration and his fists clenching at his side. “I thought we came to an agreement?”

“Listen to me first,” Bucky commanded, using his flesh hand to gently grip Steve’s jaw and force their gazes to meet. “You know I’ll take a bullet for you, right?” Steve tentatively nodded. “And you should know by now, I will also kill for you and not think twice about it.” Steve’s eyes widened, but he nodded again. “Okay, so I need to ask, are you sure you want to have a teenager assassinated?” Steve hesitated, so Bucky continued, voice firm, but nonjudgmental. “Because, I will gladly do it so you don’t have to… but only if you’re sure this is the path you want to go down.”

Steve chewed on his bottom lip, considering. “Maybe… maybe you could just rough him up a bit? Or shoot him so it’ll hurt, but he won’t die?” he murmured, his strikingly blue eyes boring unblinkingly into Bucky’s, showing nothing but trust.

“Anything for you, pal,” Bucky grinned, teasingly returning the two taps under Steve’s chin and resolutely avoiding thinking about how plump Steve’s cherry red lips looked from his anxious gesture. “And Peter, of course.”

Something suddenly prickled along Bucky’s senses, and he tipped his head back, straining his hearing before recognizing the soft footfalls coming towards them from dozens of floors up.

“f*ck, it’s the Widow,” Bucky hurriedly whispered. “We need to go.”

“Steve?” Natasha called down, freezing the two Super Soldiers into place.

‘It would be unwise to attempt to retreat before making contact,’ Winter sagely advised. ‘She likely would give chase.’

‘God damn it… okay, Barnes, plan B.’

“You committed to this?” Bucky waved a hand vaguely around them, causing Steve to vigorously nod his head in confirmation.

“Public displays of affection generally make people very uncomfortable, and they’re more likely to walk right on by without engaging,” Steve pointed out before Bucky could say anything else.

‘What a strange thing for Steve to know,’ past-Bucky commented thoughtfully. ‘He’s not the most observant, unless… someone told him that before.’

‘Someone with prior spy practice… like the Widow,’ Winter growled.

Something hot and possessive flared deep within him; the idea of Natasha putting her slimy little hands on his Steve in such a manner, or any manner for that matter, made him want to immediately toss the woman off the top of the Tower in a fit of rage.

Bucky was momentarily taken aback when Steve’s face surged towards him, but he caught the man’s chin with his flesh hand and placed his thumb smack in the middle of Steve’s lips; the blonde paled, his expression morphing into a mix of abashed and terrified.

Entranced by how soft and voluptuous his lips felt, Bucky distractedly slid his thumb down and traced it lightly along Steve’s bottom lip, startling when Steve suddenly spoke. “I’m sorry, I thought -”

Bucky bent his head forward, gently resting his forehead on Steve’s, his gaze searching for any signs of reluctance from the blonde.

He found none and took a chance.

“That’s cute, Stevie, that you think I’ll kiss ya before the first date, like some modern trollop,” he purred to the stunned man, tongue snaking out to slowly wet his own bottom lip, Steve’s eyes hypnotized by the action.

He leaned back slightly and tilted Steve’s chin to the left, ghosting his lips up along a smooth porcelain cheek and watched, fascinated, as the skin below tinged a rosy red in his wake.

“Tell me, Steve.” Bucky teasingly nipped his earlobe and then licked a wide stripe over it to soothe the area. “Do you think it’s fair that you’ve been taking bites out of me for all these years, and I haven’t gotten a single taste yet?”

Steve’s skin turned an even darker shade of red, and Bucky swore he could feel the heat radiating off it on his own skin. “Unfair...that’s very unfair,” Steve stuttered, swallowing nervously and hesitantly reaching his left hand out to place it on Bucky’s waist, his touch light and delicate at first, but becoming bolder at Bucky’s lack of reaction.

“I agree.” Bucky kissed firmly down the side of Steve’s neck until he found the perfect spot for the next part of his plan. “How long do you think a mark here,” he traced his tongue hotly over the area, “would last?”

“Umm...thirty minutes?” Steve gulped, squirming slightly in Bucky’s hold, causing the former-assassin to press a leg in between the blonde’s to keep the broader man in place. “f*ck, um, maybe an hour if you...um, if you suck hard enough?”

Bucky smirked, emboldened by Steve’s hand brazenly drifting down to slip his fingers under Bucky’s shirt where they began to teasingly trace patterns up and down his bare skin in a manner that was slowly driving Bucky wild; Steve’s hand has been on Bucky’s waist many times before, but never quite so intimately, and Bucky soon forgot why they started all of this in the first place, only hoping that it never stopped.

Bucky pressed wetter, open mouth kisses on Steve’s neck, the blonde’s fingers halting their aimless dance along his side to firmly grip Bucky’s waist, pushing their bodies even closer. “That’s something I can do very well, doll.”

Steve’s sharp gasp spurred Bucky on as he determinedly sucked a dark bruise into Steve’s neck. He pulled back just as he heard the Widow reach their landing, but he ignored her presence, unwilling to face the reality of their situation yet, choosing to admire his work instead; his mark, though unfortunately no bigger than a quarter, was a blazing blueish purple that contrasted nicely with Steve’s ivory skin and would be easily visible while standing several feet away from the Super Soldier (as Natasha was).

‘Get rid of her quickly,’ Winter directed, appearing near the parking garage door behind Bucky, a smirking past-Bucky standing shoulder to shoulder with the Soldier. Their original-self caught Bucky’s eye and gave him a lewd wink.

“Evening, gentleman,” Natasha remarked, staring calmly at them. Her expression was mostly unreadable, but Bucky internally smirked at the brief surprise he saw flicker in her eyes at their close, intimate position, and the giant hickey on Steve’s neck that drew attention like a beacon.

“Uh… hi, Natasha.” Steve awkwardly waved over Bucky’s shoulder with his right hand, since his left was still tucked under Bucky’s shirt.

“Widow,” Bucky begrudgingly acknowledged. “As you can, we’re very busy, so feel free to move along.”

Bucky kept his arm possessively wrapped around Steve and only cast the redhead a fleeting, dismissive glance, turning back to press soft closed mouth kisses up the other side of Steve’s neck.

“Buck!” Steve hissed, removing his hand from Bucky’s waist and placing it warningly against his chest; the ex-assassin stopped but leaned back far enough so Steve would see his disappointed pout. The other man rolled his eyes, but the lightning quick cheek kiss he gave Bucky in apology had heat crawling steadily up Bucky’s own cheeks.

‘I am living for this!’ past-Bucky squealed. ‘Terrible circ*mstances, but you are making me proud, pal.’

‘f*cking pay attention, both of you,’ Winter sneered, glaring at both of them. ‘She’s got something up her sleeve, both literally and figuratively.’

“Hmm,” Natasha hummed, pretending to look conflicted, tapping a slim finger against her chin. “Committing murder together on your first date, Rogers? You sure know how to get an assassin’s blood pounding, don’t you? But, unfortunately, I’m afraid I can’t leave you two alone, despite the curiosity to see how far you’d take this façade.”

‘f*ck, how did she know?’ he mentally whined.

‘The Tower reports to her most likely,’ Winter theorized. ‘We should have foreseen this. Deny -‘

“IT'S JUSTIFIABLE!” Steve unexpectedly roared, shocking both former-assassins and Bucky’s former-selves. Steve shouldered past a dazed Bucky who had been standing too close and was now suffering from ringing in his ears, the blonde moving closer to a wary Natasha. “Have you HEARD anything of what that kid has put Peter through? Calling him vulgar names? Outing him to the whole school? He makes fun of him for being an orphan! Natasha… we cannot let this continue.”

“I agree.” She raised her hands placatingly. “But you can’t just put a hit on a random teenage bully.”

“I don’t think you understand,” Steve growled, taking another step forward to loom over the much shorter Avenger. Bucky subtly inched closer to the duo, ready to protect an overly trusting Steve in case she reacted violently, his former-selves shifting to flank him. “Fists hurt, but bruises go away. Words? They leave lasting, gouging wounds that fester and add up over time, hidden deep and unseen. And Peter’s been dealing with this since elementary school… he lost his parents and then had to deal with some kid making sh*tty remarks about it, and he’s hidden ALL of that conflict from us. So I ask you, Natasha - when does the torment end? What will be the last straw that causes him to crack, to end the pain himself? Will it be another flippant orphan joke, or perhaps a cutting comment about his sexuality? Will you be able to look at yourself in the mirror after attending his funeral? Or will you be the one to tell his Aunt, who has now lost her entire family, that you could have helped but decided to stay silent over it?”

Steve’s chest heaved, the man almost hyperventilating as both Natasha and Bucky stood there in silent shock, neither having processed the reasoning behind Steve’s uncharacteristically intense reaction to Peter’s situation. Bucky mentally gave himself a small shake, then promptly jumped into an achingly familiar action.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m here with you.” Bucky spoke softly, placing a comforting hand on Steve’s shoulder and turning the man to face him, angling his body to block Steve from seeing anything but him. “Focus on my breathing, alright?” Bucky took several deep, slow breaths, Steve mimicking him while their eyes remained locked together. “Just like the old days, you remember?”

Steve snorted bitterly and glanced away. “Unfortunately.”

‘He always hated asthma attacks more than anything,’ past-Bucky recalled. ‘You did well.’

Steve turned back to Natasha once he regained control over his breathing, giving her a stern glare. “Words kill people just like guns and knives do, and I won’t stand by as Peter suffers the same way myself and countless others have.”

Natasha scowled back, tilting her head up slightly to look him in the eye while Bucky hovered anxiously to the side. “I never said we would let it continue, just meant we can go about it a different way, together. That’s all.”

“Well, Buck and I can handle it, thank you.”

‘f*ck yes we can!’ Winter smirked, high-fiving a surprised past-Bucky, the latter unfamiliar with such easy camaraderie from the Soldier.

Steve held his palm expectantly towards Buck who readily laced their fingers together (but not before casting his co*ckiest grin at the redhead and giving her a saucy wink, completely unbothered by her retaliating eye roll).

Steve was his.

They moved towards the parking garage door, leaving the shield behind since it apparently wasn’t worth the effort to navigate around Natasha for ('We must get our own,’ Winter sighed longingly). Steve paused when the other Avenger spoke again, the blonde’s tight grip on Bucky’s hand almost painful as they twisted back around to face her.

“Steve,” Natasha pleaded, her brown eyes wide and imploring. She reached out to touch the Super Soldier's arm before seeing Bucky’s murderous look and dropping her hand down halfway. “Look, I know Barnes doesn’t care about killing an unarmed teenager; what’s a little more red to add to his bleeding ledger? But will you be able to look at yourself in the mirror knowing you’re the reason he’s committed another atrocity, the reason he’s added another nightmare to his vast collection? How would either of you be able to look Peter in the eye after killing his classmate, clandestinely, in cold blood?

‘Very easily,’ Winter shrugged. ‘Sub mission, protect Peter Parker…eliminating a torturous classmate would be a great success towards the mission objective.’

‘Ugh, yeah, in theory, but I don’t think Peter would support murder like this, and Steve knows it.’

“And,” Natasha continued forcefully, “who’s going to be the one to tell Peter that two of his f*cking heroes, yes Barnes, we all know he idolizes you, are actually not in a relationship together, but instead lied about it even though they knew he was just forcibly outed to his peers? Tell me, Steve, have you thought for one second how your actions will affect anyone besides yourself, or are you so hellbent on getting justice for what you went through over eighty years ago that you don’t even give a damn what happens to anyone else? This ‘mission’ isn’t like you, and if Barnes won’t say that to your face, you sure as hell know I will.”

Oh god f*ck, she just had to go there, didn’t she? And the fact that she’s mostly right made Bucky loathe her even more, especially when his sensitive ears picked up Steve trying to mask a sniffle.

‘She’s wrong,’ Winter denied, standing close to Bucky’s shoulder and whispering forcefully into his ear. ‘And we must protect Steve from her delusions - the enemy must be eliminated.’

Past-Bucky co*cked his head towards Steve. ‘Maybe, but he needs us right now, though.’

“Hey,” Bucky whispered, using their joined hands to tug Steve towards him, allowing the other man to hide his face into Bucky’s neck. He knew Steve hated showing weakness in front of others, and Bucky would absolutely not allow that wretched woman to be privy to Steve’s shaky emotional state right now. “We’re okay, yeah? We’ll work it out with Peter. I know you’re thinking mean things about yourself in that giant head of yours, but your heart was in the right place. Anyone who actually knows you could tell that.” He scowled fiercely at the redhead who gazed back steadily, unrepentant.

“She’s right, though, Bucky,” Steve quietly gasped, his tears soaking into Bucky’s shirt. “I literally would have stood aside and allowed you to kill some teenage bully, no matter how it made you or Peter feel. I’m the worst f*cking possible friend -“

Winter snorted. ‘It would have been an honor.’

Past-Bucky sighed. ‘Not the time, pal.’

“Stop.”

Bucky used his free hand to tilt Steve’s chin up so he could look him in the eye; the sight of tearstained cheeks sliced his heart into pieces. “You’re not a bad friend, I offered to be the one to complete the hit, remember? You never pressured me. It would have been my choice, okay? No matter my reasoning behind making that choice, it was still mine.” He cringed at his next words. “But… we have been sh*tty as f*ck to Peter, so we definitely need to do some proper groveling there.”

“f*ck,” Steve groaned, making himself impossibly smaller to burrow his face into Bucky’s chest. “You ready to join me on the sh*t list?”

“I’m with you 'til the end of the line, pal,” Bucky chuckled, carding his fingers soothingly through Steve’s hair. “Just let me do the talking, ya?”

“Okay,” Steve murmured, some of the tension seeping out of his body. “In a minute we can go?”

“‘Course,” he agreed, glaring hotly at Natasha who looked like she was about to disagree.

“I will f*cking kill you,” he mouthed to the Widow over Steve’s head.

“As if you could,” she mouthed back, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest, casually leaning back against the wall.

‘We could, please instigate a fight, oh my god,’ Winter pleaded, and Bucky was wholeheartedly grateful when past-Bucky forcefully shot that idea down.

Bucky would bet his entire knife collection she waited exactly sixty seconds before speaking. “So, here’s the plan, boys. You’re going to go up there and apologize to Peter for the numerous wrongs you’ve both committed in the last hour or two. Do whatever you need to make amends, maybe sing some songs to work out your feelings or buy him a bunch of sh*t. I don’t care, just fix it. And then we’ll regroup as a Team and figure out what our next nonlethal step is. Capiche?”

Steve straightened up and took a deep breath. “Got it,” he confirmed, discreetly using his knuckles to wipe away any remaining tears while keeping his other hand linked with Bucky’s.

“I’ll walk up with you, but then you’re on your own,” Natasha commented, pushing off from the wall and moving closer to them.

“I think we can make it up on our own, thanks,” Bucky sneered back, adjusting his body once more so Steve was behind him. He stared directly into her eyes, silently daring her to challenge him.

“I’m not your enemy, Barnes,” she purred, taking a deliberate step closer and lifting her chin up to smirk defiantly.

‘That is debatable,’ Winter scoffed, which Bucky found himself agreeing with.

“A Faceless Man who serves the Many-Faced-God will never be a friend,” he rebuffed, haughtily looking down at her.

‘Ooh, sh*t, you didn’t,’ past-Bucky cackled before turning to a puzzled Winter and briefly explaining the remark.

Natasha blinked several times before snorting in recognition at the pop-culture reference. “Does that make you the Night King in this scenario, Soldier?”

“You little -”

Before Bucky could move a step closer to her, Steve muscled his way in between them, using his bulky frame to keep them apart and dropping his hold on Bucky’s hand in the process. “Hey, hey, enough of that! I know you two have some uh, differences, but I trust both of you. So, I understand if you don’t get along, but we are all on the same side… let’s start acting like it.”

“Barnes started it, but fine, I can be the bigger person here,” Natasha said, lifting her nose pretentiously.

“I didn’t start anything,” he grumbled defensively, crossing his arms over his chest. “But I’ll certainly finish it if you don’t watch yourself.”

“Are you… threatening me?” Natasha asked, looking gleeful.

Winter pressed even closer to his back. ‘YES!’

“No!” Steve glared at each of them in turn. “We are not doing this. Bucky, start going up the stairs, please. Then, I’ll go, and Natasha you can follow.”

Bucky opened his mouth to argue, but Steve gripped his shoulder tightly and maneuvered him away from the redhead.

‘How dare she not be intimidated by us!’ Winter seethed behind him. ‘We are vastly superior assassins, and she should tremble at the whisper of our name alone.’

‘A fight with us seemed to excite her,’ past-Bucky observed. ‘Shall we… invite her to spar in a few days?’

‘What an excellent idea,’ Winter agreed, his tone laced with admiration at the suggestion. ‘We can strike fear in her heart and prove we are the only choice when it comes to protecting Steve and the young ones.’

Bucky leisurely began his ascent up the dozens of flights of stairs to return to the gym, silently discussing with his former-selves the best way to apologize to Peter. After climbing the first two flights, he was turning to start the next set when he accidentally made eye contact with the Widow - she locked eyes with him, smirked, and slowly raised her hand before landing a loud slap to Steve’s butt who had been staring to climb after Bucky.

“Ow, Natasha,” Steve laughed, looking back at the redhead in surprise. “What was that for?”

“Just a modern way to cheer each other on,” she explained with a blinding smile, fluttering her eyelashes. “Like, ‘let’s go Cap, you got this!’”

Bucky, though…

Bucky saw red.

“How f*cking DARE you touch him like that!” he screamed, vaulting over the railing and attempting to savagely grab the redhead. Steve promptly blocked his path with his larger frame - still, Bucky kept trying to reach around him while avoiding hurting him in the process.

To his frustration, Steve was unfairly efficient at blocking his jabs.

“Bucky, that is ENOUGH,” Steve roared, forcibly pushing Bucky away from the woman.

Steve shoved Bucky against the wall opposite Natasha, unfortunately in a lot less pleasant manner than how Bucky had Steve pressed against the same wall earlier. “It’s not that serious, Buck, let it go.”

“Don’t stress about it Steve, I can protect myself,” she laughed, twirling a blade in her hand, her eyes locked on Bucky’s.

‘Stab her,’ Winter hissed, his own eyes never straying from the petite Avenger.

Bucky unsheathed his own blade. “You aren’t fit to lick his boots, let alone touch him like that, you spineless, weak, perfidious, two-faced floozy.”

‘Great insults, pal, but uh… Steve’s LIVID,’ past-Bucky warned.

Steve’s jaw clenched as he eyed the two, his arm against Bucky’s throat to keep him in place, while still making sure his body covered his friend’s so Natasha couldn't get a sudden swipe in. “For the love of f*cking god, put the blades away.” Bucky and Natasha continued to glare across the distance, refusing to be the one to back down. “NOW!”

Bucky swore the other man would render him deaf by the end of the day, but he begrudgingly slipped the knife back into his outfit.

“I don’t know what the flying f*ck is wrong with you two, but it’s not about either you right now. Do you understand me?”

Bucky grunted in acknowledgment, glancing away from the Widow long enough to meet Steve’s angry gaze.

“Natasha?”

“Roger, that, Rogers.”

Past-Bucky snorted. ‘Like he hasn’t heard that one before.’

‘Absolutely pathetic,’ Winter sneered. ‘Stab her while everyone’s guard is down.’

“Bucky, you’re still going first,” Steve commanded, glancing up towards the staircase.

“Fine,” he huffed, shouldering Steve out of his way. He scowled at Natasha before jumping up and grabbing the railing of the first floor landing, effortlessly swinging his body up and over.

“Ooh, so impressive, Barnes, wow,” Natasha mocked, and Bucky gritted his teeth in annoyance but slowly continued his trek up the stairs.

He waited until he heard Steve follow, and then began humming a song under his breath he heard on Wanda’s ‘Emo’s Not Dead’ playlist she routinely subjected him to when they hung out. Slowly remembering the lyrics, he began singing along, his voice gravelly but hypnotic in the echoing stairwell.

“Hiding behind the shadows // I'll be waiting in the dark // To drive this blade straight through your heart //
I'll drag your body to the car // As blood races down my arm // I think everyone will wonder where you are tonight.”

“Jesus, Bucky, what the f*ck?” Steve disbelievingly asked from behind him.

“The Widow said we should sing to work out our feelings, so I’m just taking her sage advice, Stevie,” he breezily responded, not bothering to look back as he spoke.

He forgot a few of the stanzas but figured what he could recall would get his point across, especially as he increased the volume of his singing as he went.

“I've been dreaming about you // In a pool of your own blood // With your eyes gouged out // By the work of my thumbs // The scent of your insides from under the floorboards // The perfect perfume for settling a score."

"I'll hide you in my walls // Your body will never be found // I'll wear your skin as a suit // Pretend to be you, your friends will like you more than they used to.”

“That was beautiful, Barnes,” Natasha sarcastically complimented, complete with slow, echoing clapping. “But not exactly the type of song I’d recommend singing to Peter.”

‘I liked it a lot... even better than the original,’ Winter complimented. ‘Very well done.’

“Nope, that was all for you,” he shrugged, noting they only had two more floors to go, which, thank god, he’d throw himself back down to the parking garage if he had to be in her presence any longer.

“Okay, well, not a fan of the lyrics, but your voice sounded really well, Buck. Even better than it used to,” Steve praised, his voice laced with nostalgia.

‘We used to sing to him when he was sick or if he woke up from a nightmare,’ past-Bucky answered his silent question. ‘Nicer songs, though, good lord, I’m with Steve on this one.’

Bucky chanced a glance behind him, and Steve’s proud smile almost made him giddy until he saw Natasha’s smug smirk over his shoulder

Natasha parted ways with them once they finally reached the locker room, the Avenger heading back downstairs because she had a “prior engagement." She assured them she would check in on them later, and Bucky and Steve both heard the threat in her voice.

“Well… time to face the music,” Steve said, running his hand wearily over his face, his shoulders slumped in exhaustion. “Hopefully you have some nicer songs prepared this time?”

“Ha ha,” Bucky deadpanned, sticking his tongue out at Steve once he looked up, the other man snickering at his own joke.

Bucky adamantly forced his mind to focus on their approaching stress-inducing conversation with Peter and NOT on any of the Earth-shattering, mind blowing, breathtaking moments he’d barely lived through… like how he literally just had his lips on Steve’s skin and sucked a vibrant bruise on his neck (which was still there, because he put effort into it), or how Steve slipped his fingers under Bucky’s shirt and trailed them flirtatiously up and down his side, or how he kissed Bucky’s cheek in front of someone he considered a friend (past-Bucky had mentioned being shocked by this, since while him and Steve had always been affectionate with their touches, they’d never really kissed each other).

“Hey… are we good?” Steve hesitantly questioned, his eyes looking anywhere but at Bucky while he fiddled with the zipper on his duffle bag. “You know, with everything that just happened?”

“Of course,” Bucky genuinely assured him, giving what he hoped was a confident smile when Steve’s eyes darted up to him in surprise. “At the end of the day, we’ll always be good, Steve.”

Bucky understood everything that happened between them was solely to create a distraction so the Widow would leave them alone and they could continue their true mission, and he wasn’t stupid enough to expect anything like that to ever happen again between them. Even if Steve had readily gone along with the charade, it was just that - an illusion, a performance, pretend, nothing more than a scene plucked from Bucky’s daydreams and acted out for an audience. Steve had chosen Bucky over Natasha in that moment to keep their cover, but for anything truly intimate or romantic, Bucky wouldn’t even make the list of potential options… which sucked, but it is what it is, and he’d always choose a life where he could be Steve’s best friend over a life without Steve by his side any day (though, he’d probably be a little emotionally sensitive after today and mentally penciled in some self-care time so he could lick his wounds in peace).

“‘Til the end of the line?” Steve quietly chuckled, his shoulders losing some of their tension as he smiled, relieved.

“And even after that,” Bucky grinned, casually slinging his arm back over Steve’s shoulders, seeking the comfort and warmth the closeness to his friend provided (though the anxious part of his mind was worried Steve would try to shrug his touch off after the previous intimate display down in the stairwell). “You’re stuck with me, forever, pal.”

The blonde fortunately did not push his arm off and seemed to perk up with the familiar gesture and phrase. “I think I can handle that,” Steve smiled for a moment before tensing once more and shifting nervously, causing Bucky to mentally brace himself for the impending awkward conversation that was sure to come.

“But look…” Steve trailed off, biting his lip unconsciously in thought, and Bucky turned his own gaze to the floor, refusing to get distracted by the plumpness of Steve’s lips again. “I know how important Peter is to you, and I’m sorry you got dragged into this because I let my emotions cloud my judgment. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

Bucky sighed, exasperated by Steve’s need to apologize for anything and everything, as if they barely knew each other or some sh*t. “Steve, we’ve been inseparable since we were five...you’ve always looked out for everyone but yourself, and you wouldn’t be the same if you weren't guided by your moral compass and your extreme stubbornness… and lack of inability to let any ‘wrong’ go without justice. I accept your unnecessary apology, but we both know it will happen again, and I’ll be right behind you either as backup or to protect you from yourself.”

Steve snorted, sounding somewhat bitter, and shook his head. “Is it a bad time to say I still don’t know why you stick around me?”

‘Oh my god, it’s been over ninety years, Steve, why are we still having this argument?’ past-Bucky groaned dramatically in the back of his mind.

Bucky flicked Steve in the forehead, carefully because it was his metal hand, but still not too soft, because good lord, he needed some solid cognitive reprogramming. “That statement is definitely something that should be left in the 40’s. You look out for me in different ways, especially these days, and that tradeoff is what makes us work so well. So, I’m going to need you to listen to me very carefully.”

Bucky removed his arm from Steve’s shoulders and used both of his hands to cup Steve’s cheeks, forcing him to remain in place, his wide eyes on Bucky only. “I. Will. Always. Choose. You. No matter what, even if we don’t see eye to eye on something. You’re my person, my family, my home. There's nothing you could ever say or do to make me let go. Do you understand?” He moved his hands, making Steve nod yes, feeling Steve’s cheeks shift as his mouth tilted up into a smile at Bucky’s antics. “You’re it for me, and no one will ever be more important to me than you, and that’s probably kind of f*cked up, but it’s the truth. No one, Steve, ever.”

Bucky dropped his hands from Steve’s face, draping his arm back over him and politely ignoring the wet sheen in Steve’s blue eyes.

He steered the conversation forward and prayed he didn’t just give too much of himself away; Steve was a clever guy, and Bucky hadn’t exactly been subtle with his words just now. “Peter’s a forgiving kid, even if us schmucks don’t deserve it,” Bucky noted, leading them towards the other side of the locker room and away from one emotional conversation in order to have another one. “And regardless of how it goes, we can go back upstairs afterwards and order a mountain of Chinese food for dinner and eat ourselves into a food coma.”

Steve smiled softly, his face brightening despite the impending awkward situation they were about to endure. “Sounds like a plan, Buck… and um, you’re my person, too. Having you back made me realize how much better my life is with you in it, and I would burn the world down in a heartbeat if something ever happened to you.”

Bucky squeezed Steve closer, unable to find the words to respond to that. He pressed a gentle kiss to Steve’s hair, hoping his friend would accept it in place of a verbal response. “Just let me do the talking with Peter,” Bucky insisted, playfully jostling the blonde.

Steve rolled his eyes, pausing at the entrance into the gym. “I’m sensing an insult lurking somewhere in this.”

Bucky winced; Steve was great at inspiring speeches but not the best when it came to emotional conversations. He shrugged his left shoulder the best he could and headed meekly into the gym to face the youngest hero, tugging a disgruntled Steve along with him.

At first glance, Peter appeared to have left the gym, but Bucky’s prior experiences led him to cast his gaze upwards, spotting the teen at the opposite end of the gym wearing different clothes than before, his brown hair damp from a shower. Bucky frowned at the boy whose focus was elsewhere; he was clinging to the ceiling using both his feet and one hand, the other hand pointed at an airborne Wanda. The older teen was using her magic to float up into the air as high as she could - she’d made it about halfway between the floor and the ceiling so far, which was easily ten feet. Bucky assumed Peter was there as her ‘spotter,’ either to catch her in a web or literally swing down and catch her in his arms if she fell.

Steve, being the mother hen that he was, immediately fluffed up, indignant at their brazen disregard for the ‘gym rules’ in their absence - until they were deemed fully-fledged Avengers, Wanda and Peter were only allowed to train with their powers in new and dangerous ways if an official Avenger was there to oversee them - Wanda using her magic to lift small objects or stir her coffee was fine, but floating ten plus feet into the air was definitely a no-go. Clint and Steve had enacted the rule originally for Wanda, whose magic had exponential potential uses, but Stark had immediately included Peter and both his science experiments and suit testing trials as well.

“Just what do you think you two are doing?!” Steve shrieked, both hands on his hips as he scowled up at them in disapproval, a stance that was a carbon copy of one Sarah Rogers.

‘He’s like a mix of our mothers,’ past-Bucky drylycommented. ‘He’s got the exact same disappointed-and-super-angry posture down from his Ma, and the piercing you-have-brought-great-shame-upon-this-family tone from ours.’

‘What does that make us, then?’ he asked, amused.

‘We’re like Pa,’ past-Bucky chuckled fondly. ‘He might have been upset, too, but he always tried to smooth everyone’s ruffled feathers because he hated inter-family conflict, and four kids and a wife could cause quite a ruckus.’

The two teens must not have heard them enter, both startling so harshly at the sudden shouting that they lost control over their powers - Wanda’s magic sputtered out, dropping her heavily towards the floor, and Peter flinched hard enough to dislodge his grip on the ceiling. Bucky bolted across the gym, gracefully catching Wanda bridal-style and placing her gently onto the ground before stepping to the side to snatch a tumbling Peter out of the air as well.

“Oh my god, holy sh*t.” Peter clung to Bucky’s front like a genetically enhanced koala with immeasurable strength, gasping for air after the terrifying fall and accidentally cracking Bucky’s back in the process. “I think my life just flashed before my eyes, you are literally a lifesaver, I love you, man.”

Bucky rubbed soothing circles onto Peter’s back, glancing worriedly down at Wanda who had her face tucked between her knees, taking slow and measured breaths, her eyes firmly shut as she muttered in Sokovian to herself.

“You’re alright, Wanda,” he assured, his voice low and calm like when he talked Steve down from an asthma attack. “We’re here, and you’re safe. Steve didn’t mean to frighten you, and he’s sorry for causing you guys to fall.”

Bucky glared meaningfully at the other Super Soldier, the blonde pacing agitatedly in front of them.

“Well,” Steve huffed, frowning. He seemed to finally notice Bucky’s thunderous expression and visibly deflated. “I’m sorry for scaring you, and I’m glad neither of you are hurt… but this just proves why we have the rule in the first place.”

“Steve,” Bucky warned, taking a threatening step forward; now was not the time for Steve to get on his righteous high horse, especially when both of the kids were still clearly upset.

Peter dropped back down to his feet and moved to sit next to Wanda, gently rubbing circles onto her back just as Bucky had done with him. Her arms were still wrapped around her knees, but her chin was resting on them with her eyes opened, her gaze distant.

“I just don’t understand!” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, scowling down at a chagrined Peter. “Peter, please explain to me how you’ll use your webs against Bucky in the gym to play around, despite the rules, but not use them to save yourself from falling twenty feet onto the ground?”

“I panicked?” Peter sheepishly answered, frowning down at the floor. “And I’ve fallen farther before and been fine, so it’s no big deal, honest.” Peter glanced up, his doe eyes wide and innocent, looking like a kicked puppy.

‘That is wildly unacceptable and does not fit in with the mission parameters,’ Winter growled.

Bucky choked at the nonchalant comment, horrified by the teen’s flippancy at such a dangerous stunt and refusing to allow such a cute look to deter him from his outrage. “That doesn’t make it okay or something you should repeat, Peter!”

‘He’s a mini version of Steve, holy sh*t,’ past-Bucky concluded, flabbergasted by the pair. ‘I’d request a DNA test if there was a possibility Steve could be the father.’

“You’re enhanced and used to swinging around tall buildings, but Wanda’s not, and a fall for her from that height could have been perilous since she doesn’t have the ability to heal as fast as us.” Steve sighed, plopping down a few feet in front of the two teens, surprising all of them by relaxing his posture into something more amicable. “Look, I know I’ve done my fair share of reckless stunts -”

Bucky snorted, sitting elegantly down on Steve’s left, their knees brushing slightly. “Understatement of the century,” he muttered petulantly under his breath.

“But,” Steve continued, smacking Bucky’s knee harder than necessary. “Please, just think twice before doing something like that again, okay? We care about you, both of you, and we’ll happily join you or find someone if we can’t do it ourselves to try out your ideas, whether you’re using your powers or testing something from the lab. We understand your abilities are far greater than our own, and we respect that, but we have years of experience and training in dangerous situations that you two could benefit from.”

“I’m sorry, Wanda,” Peter apologized sincerely, quickly wrapping his arms around the girl next to him, but letting go before she could react. “I should have caught you, and I didn’t, and you could have gotten hurt, and it would have been my fault -”

“Hush,” Wanda said, putting her hand over Peter’s mouth and glaring at the wide-eyed boy. “It would have been my fault, because it was my idea that got us into that mess. You suffered as well, and for that, I am also sorry.”

Wanda removed her hand from Peter’s mouth and properly hugged the younger teen, Bucky smiling affectionately at their display of friendship; he was glad they had each other to lean on.

“And proper training will help both of you in reacting appropriately in stressful or unexpected situations,” Steve tactfully assured them, Bucky nodding next to him. “I know you already work with Clint, Wanda, and Peter with Tony, but learning different techniques and perspectives from others will make you more well rounded.”

‘We must begin training immediately,’ Winter petitioned. ‘Such a situation as this one cannot occur again.’

“We’ve got ideas,” Bucky grinned wickedly, meaning himself and Winter who was whispering different training regiments in the back of his thoughts, hoping Steve assumed he meant the two of them. “We’ll work out a training schedule for you guys over the next few days.”

Peter cringed, eyes darting between the two menacingly smiling super soldiers. “We’re going to suffer, aren’t we?”

“No, it’ll be fun,” Steve scoffed, waving a hand dismissively, as Bucky gleefully said, “undoubtedly,” while casually shrugging.

“Ugh,” Peter groaned, falling back onto the floor, Wanda patting his knee sympathetically while smiling fondly at the dramatic boy.

“At least we will suffer together,” Wanda cheerfully acknowledged, unbothered by the situation (at least for now since she had no experience under their brand of training).

Peter immediately sat back up, likely to argue with her about the tortures that awaited them with their entwined fate, but Steve turned to his head at the same time to share a look with Bucky, and Peter’s enhanced vision suddenly zeroed in on Steve’s neck.

“Hey, I think you got some ink on your neck,” Peter pointed out, his tone and posture lacking any signs of sarcasm.

“What?” Steve asked uncomfortably, self consciously covering the spot with a large hand.

Wanda winced and shifted awkwardly. “Peter, I don’t think -“

“Here, let me just…”

Bucky watched, horrified and unable to move, as Peter rose to his knees and scooted closer to Steve, the blonde looking like a giant, muscular deer caught in the headlights of a semi truck speeding towards it. The teen licked a wet stripe onto his own thumb, and then leaned over to scrub his finger over the mark on Steve’s neck, the older man too stunned to react.

Peter’s brows furrowed when the coloring didn’t budge, and he frowned in confusion. “Hmm, is this like, permanent marker?” He licked his thumb again and rubbed the spot more forcefully, only succeeding in causing the area to redden along with the rest of Steve’s ivory skin, the Super Soldier mortified by the entire incident but still unable to move. “Or tattoo ink, what the heck?”

“Peter, no.” Wanda sighed in secondhand embarrassment, her head in her hands. Peter glanced back towards her slumped form and then at a flustered Bucky who could feel his ears reddening at the unimaginable situation.

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry,” Peter hurriedly apologized, flinging himself back to his spot next to Wanda, and Bucky was relieved he’d caught on without anyone having to explain it to him. “May does that to me all the time, because I always get pen on me when I daydream at school, and I didn’t even think about how weird it would be to do it to someone else -”

“It’s fine,” Steve sputtered, holding his hands up placatingly, but Bucky could see him twitching slightly, most likely wanting to cover the spot again. “It’ll come off soon.”

Bucky snorted internally, wondering how Steve would explain the disappearing ‘ink’ to Peter if they were still around him in the next thirty minutes or so - the hickey had already faded considerably since Bucky first left it, but it was still easily visible at certain angles.

“I should go home,” Peter mumbled, glancing at the time on his phone.

“No,” Steve spoke up, mentally shaking off his embarrassment, his serious tone surprising the teens. “We aren’t done talking, yet.”

Peter eyed the blonde warily, his eyes suddenly widening as his brain processed the sight of the two men sitting side by side, tense and solemn. “Oh my god, we ruined your date, didn’t we?”

The youngest hero abruptly flailed his arms, almost elbowing Wanda in the face, the girl dodging just in time. “Was that supposed to be a secret? Oh my god, I just outed you, I am so, so sorry. Wanda won’t tell, but that doesn’t forgive my lack of discretion, holy sh*t -”

“See, that’s the thing,” Bucky interjected, voice raised to be heard over Peter’s panicked monologue. “There wasn’t -”

“We lied!” Steve blurted, his loud voice echoing across the silent gym and making Bucky internally face-palm. Captain America, for some bizarre reason, was called the ‘Man With a Plan’ so why couldn’t he f*cking stick to the plan?

All four of them froze at Steve’s confession (including Steve, who apparently hadn’t meant to shout that across the gym), the teens looking quizzically between Steve and Bucky like they were watching a tennis match, the two Super Soldiers looking anywhere but at them or each other.

“What?” Peter breathed, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

“We lied,” Steve unnecessarily repeated, staring down in dismay at his clasped hands.

‘How… how has he survived so long without us?’ Winter questioned, genuinely confused. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘Sheer dumb luck,’ past-Bucky quickly answered.

‘Also stubbornness.’

“So you’ve said,” Wanda observed, her lips quirking upwards in amusem*nt.

“Jesus, Steve, shut up, good lord,” Bucky begged when Steve opened his mouth again. “We heard that you were upset earlier, and we were going to have words… of the aggressive kind,” he mimed stabbing someone, “with that kid. We were headed to the parking garage when you met us in the locker room.”

“It’s totally my fault,” Steve proclaimed, his eyes wide and earnest. “Please, be mad at me all you want, but not Bucky, he was just looking out for me like always.”

Bucky scoffed, shoving the self-sacrificing man hard enough so he would have tipped over from the force if Bucky’s hand hadn’t shot out, wrapping around his bicep and tugging him back up. “Okay, well it was my idea to say we’re dating, so “

“You never would have been in a position to say that if I hadn’t lost my sh*t.”

“Okay, well -”

“Maybe it’s both of your fault?” Wanda suggested, rolling her eyes at their antics.

“I’m still confused?” Peter admitted, anxiously wringing his hands. “So, you’re not dating?”

“Perhaps you should explain from the beginning, James,” Wanda coolly advised, linking her arm through Peter’s in silent support.

Bucky took a deep, calming breath. “We overheard your conversation on the phone with your friend, about that kid harassing you all the time, and the…” he trailed off, chewing on his lip, his eyes darting worriedly to Wanda.

“She knows,” Peter confirmed, shrinking into himself. “The part you’re worried about, at least.”

Bucky nodded and continued his story, of how Steve reacted poorly to the news of Peter being bullied and outed, and had stormed off, seeking justice... and how Bucky followed, unwilling to let Steve go through with something he’d regret, prepared to do it himself, instead, if need be. And how he randomly came up with the idea of going on a date with Steve as their cover when Peter found them, and how they ran into Natasha in the stairwell who somehow knew what they planned and talked them out of it. He glossed over a lot of the story, like their intimate moments and his petty squabbles with the Widow, sticking to the main points.

“We’re truly, honestly, profoundly sorry for violating your privacy like we did,” Steve apologized, unconsciously leaning his shoulder into Bucky’s for support. “And I reacted awfully to the news, and I’m glad Bucky and Natasha were there to stop me, but we shouldn’t have lied to you or run off without talking to you first.”

“We messed up big time, and I wish we could do everything all over again so we could do better by you,” Bucky admitted, wanting to reach out to the boy but unsure if his touch would be welcomed; Peter still had an arm linked with Wanda’s, but his other arm was wrapped around his knees, his chin resting on them and his eyes glued to the floor.

“Peter, please let us help you,” Steve pleaded, minutely rocking back and forth, unable to sit still.

“Nonviolently,” Bucky whispered, clutching Steve’s hand as Peter’s expression remained uncharacteristically blank.

“Nonviolently,” Steve agreed, nodding and squeezing Bucky’s hand comfortingly. “You don’t deserve an ounce of what this kid has put you through.”

“Please say something,” Bucky urged when the silence dragged on, frowning at Peter’s lack of response and his unusual stoicism. “Even if you want to yell and rant at us, which we deserve, or use us as a punching bag.”

Peter’s lip trembled, his eyes swiftly glancing up to them and then back to the floor. “So… you don’t care that I’m a f- … freak?”

‘I believe a covert assassination is in order,’ Winter growled fiercely.

‘Seconded,’ past-Bucky agreed in a similar tone.

‘I’ll begin running the schematics,’ Winter advised, ignoring Bucky’s refusal and running preliminary plans with past-Bucky.

“What?!” Steve gasped, aghast at Peter’s words, his hand crushing Bucky’s painfully as he tried to remain calm… or at least appear somewhat calm and non-murderous.

Peter swallowed and glanced up to meet Bucky’s gaze. “And… um, you didn’t decide to say you were dating to make fun of me?”

“You’re not a freak, Peter, or any other derogatory term you’ve heard someone else say,” Bucky countered, Wanda firmly agreeing with him. “And we would never make fun of you for that, I’m so sorry if we came across like that, it was nothing more than my dumb ass brain feeding me random ideas.”

Bucky sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, toying with the idea of coming out himself; on one hand, he could give Peter someone to confide in who could legitimately empathize with some of his concerns and struggles, and as a teen, he personally would have killed to have someone like that. But...

His eyes shifted uneasily to Steve next to him - it was evident Steve wasn’t bothered by Peter’s sexuality, if his fierce protective streak was anything to go by. But what if it was Bucky who was gay? The guy who had literally just kissed all up on him for ‘show’, the guy who was currently holding his hand now, the guy he’d known almost his whole life and thought was straight as an arrow, who had lied to him for as long as they knew each other by sheer omission… how would he react?

Bucky couldn’t take the risk. Not here, not now. Maybe not ever. He couldn’t lose Steve, especially over something he’d been suppressing his entire life, and he knew down to his very core he wouldn’t survive without the other man… there’d be no point in a life where Bucky Barnes existed without Steve Rogers by his side.

“Peter, no one here thinks anything even close to that, I promise.” Steve carefully scooted closer to the fretful teen, Peter looking ready to bolt at any sudden movement, while tugging a pensive Bucky along with him. He slowly reached his free hand out to tilt Peter’s chin up. “You are not any less of a person because you are attracted to people of the same sex. Love is love, and no one should be shamed for something like that. We fully support you in this.”

“Exactly, and that asshole should never have outed you against your will, and he will pay for what he did to you,” Bucky growled, returning the fierce squeeze to Steve’s hand and forcing down his own cynical thoughts; apparently having two parts of yourself hashing murder plots in the back of one’s head was detrimental to your overall emotional wellbeing, especially if you were having your own internal crisis at the same time.

“And we care about you, Peter,” Steve softly added, letting go of Peter’s chin, and the teen immediately dropped his face back down. “And as a Team, I think we can reach an agreeable solution.”

Peter lifted his head, his mouth moving tersely in a semblance of a smile. “Thank you, but I don’t think a school bully is a problem for the mighty Avengers.”

“To be clear,” Bucky added, staring Peter directly in the eye. “You could lose your powers and enhancements tomorrow, and we would still feel the same. I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say we care about you as Spider-Man, sure, but we love you as Peter Parker, the genius kid who’s always looking out for everyone but himself, the guy who makes everyone feel a little brighter just by being in his presence, unintentionally reminding us bitter adults that there’s still good in the world. He’s the person a virtuous Captain America would murder a random teen for, the person self-absorbed Tony Stark would bend over backwards for to make sure he’s happy and safe. We care about you, Peter, and it tears us apart knowing someone’s intentionally hurting you.”

“Dude,” Peter sniffed, his lip trembling more intensely now as a few tears slipped down his face.

“You matter,” Wanda added, leaning her head against his shoulder. “To all of us, solely because you’re you.”

“Stopppp,” Peter whined, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “I promised myself I wouldn’t cry anymore today.”

“It’s okay to cry,” Bucky said, his voice low and comforting. “Just not by yourself anymore, yeah? You aren’t alone, and we will always be here for you.”

Peter pressed his sleeve-covered hands to his eyes, attempting to stop the flow of tears, but Bucky’s words caused the dam to break.

He gasped in despair, and Bucky immediately crawled towards him, scooping the sobbing teen into his lap, Wanda letting go of his arm to allow Bucky to fully enclose him in an embrace.

“Let it out, you’re safe with us,” Bucky soothed, squeezing him tightly and sharing a distressed look with Steve.

“I’m sorry!” Peter bawled, trying to pull back from Bucky who just tightened his grip.

“Hush, everyone cries,” Bucky murmured, using his flesh hand to gently run his fingers through Peter’s hair, the younger teen curling himself even further into Bucky’s hold.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Steve affirmed, using his best ‘Captain-America-Is-Always-Right’ voice. “Hell, I blubbered all over Bucky not thirty minutes ago.”

“It wasn’t pretty,” Bucky teased, giving Steve a quick wink to show he was joking. “Would have replaced the Kardashian lady’s picture you two always send me.”

“We’re your family, Peter, or have you forgotten already?” Wanda affirmed, referencing their conversation from the other day. “And if you can’t be your real self with your chosen family, then who can you be real with?”

Peter giggled quietly, a steady flow of tears still cascading down his face but some of his usual brightness returned. “What does that make Steve?”

“Our brother-in-law, obviously,” Wanda smirked at Peter, ignoring Steve’s confusion and Bucky’s glare of disapproval.

Before either of them could say anything else, the gym doors slammed open, the sound of them clashing against the wall resounding through the entire room and causing all four of them to jump in alarm until they saw who entered.

“I have been advised my presence is urgently needed down here,” Stark announced loudly, his eyes roaming the area until they landed on their group huddled together, taking in Peter’s crumpled face and the general air of despondence surrounding them. “Who upset my… our kid?! Please tell me he just saw a cute dog or got yelled at by some old lady he tried to help cross the street. f*ck, I mean sh*t, is he hurt? Friday, patch me in to Medical -”

“He’s not hurt,” Steve calmly reassured the frantic man, holding his hands up placatingly. “Um… physically at least.”

“Oh god, okay, can the problem be fixed by throwing money at it until it goes away?” Stark asked, striding purposefully towards them. He must have seen something on Steve’s expression, because he quickly threw his hands up, mirroring Steve. “It’s just a question, don’t freak out on me. I am not equipped to handle most situations that can’t be solved by paying someone off or like… fixing something with parts and my brain power… FRIDAY!”

“On it boss,” Friday readily responded, knowing what was needed without being told, and they heard a crackling sound through the speakers.

“I’m fine, Mr. Stark,” Peter murmured meekly, his lips forming a pout as he talked. “Promise, please don’t make a big deal -”

“Tony?” Pepper’s soft but stern voice floated through the room. “I told you Maria, Natasha, and I were very busy tonight -”

“I’m sorry to interrupt Scary Women’s Night, but the kid is leaking,” Tony cried, waving his hands around as he talked, even though the connection was only auditory.

Peter made a pained, dying sound, hooking his chin onto Bucky’s shoulder and turning his face to hide it in his neck. The Super Soldier caressed his hair with his flesh hand, not knowing what to say to make this situation any better - for a genius, Stark sure had an interesting way with words.

“What?” Pepper asked after a pregnant pause.

“From his face,” Stark clarified, pacing around them as he talked. “And he’s snuggling our resident half-robot who now has an edgy rockstar haircut like he’s the world’s cuddliest, deadliest teddy bear… something is clearly wrong, actually lots of things, and we need you down here, pronto. Please.”

“Tony,” Steve growled warningly.

“Is that Steve?” Pepper questioned, her tone hopeful.

“Hi, Pepper,” Steve said, and Bucky cackled in his head when Steve waved to the ceiling… What a dork.

‘What a dummy,’ past-Bucky commented fondly on Bucky’s right with a stoic Winter on their left.

“Steve,” Pepper sighed. “Can you explain what’s going on, please? It’s clear Tony has no idea and panicked upon seeing someone showing emotions.”

“Hey!... Well, that’s fair, actually, I hate that you’re always right.”

“Um… hold on a second.” Steve turned towards Peter, silently asking him if it was okay for him to explain.

“It’s fine,” Peter grumbled tiredly into Bucky’s neck. “Not really a secret if the whole internet knows anyways.”

Steve clenched his jaw and nodded, gently patting Peter consolingly on the back. “It would be better if you guys came down here,” Steve admitted, his tone serious and commanding, similar to when he was leading a mission. “Or we met in the common area. It’s a long story, and not a very pleasant one.”

“Oh. Okay, I’ll get Clint,” Pepper stated, and then they heard some rustling over the speakers and what sounded like doors slamming. Bucky raised a questioning eyebrow at Steve who helplessly shrugged, just as confused as his friend.

“He brought his dog today,” Maria calmly explained, Peter perking up at her statement, peering around excitedly as if Clint’s dog would suddenly materialize in the gym. “We’ll meet you up there in five.”

Steve frowned, taking a quick stock of their group. “Make it fifteen. We’re going to change into something comfy, get some supplies, and Tony’s going to order food for everyone.”

“I am?” Stark saw Steve’s pointed look, and Bucky hid his smile into Peter’s hair. “Right! I am. Regular meals are important for people still growing, or so I’m told. How about hoagies from that place down the street you like?”

“Yessss,” Peter cheered quietly. “I love them.”

Bucky swiftly stood up, easily taking Peter with him, and offered a hand down to pull Wanda up and then Steve, the blonde giving him a fond eye roll but still accepting his hand.

“We’ve got you kid,” Stark promised, reaching up to pat Peter on the arm. “You’ve got the Scary Women Besties Duo, the Spy Besties Duo, who also have a dog suddenly, not sure what that’s about, and the American Heroes on Steroids Besties Duo who have a metal arm and a fancy shield between them. And me, and I’m a genius and rich, plus your own bestie who’s probably stronger than all of us combined with her red mist of doom. And there’s an alien god and a giant green rage monster upstairs sooo I think we can figure it out between us.”

Their group parted ways once in the elevator, the American Heroes on Steroids Besties Duo taking Peter with them.

“Am I worthy enough to see Captain America’s closet of treasures that Bucky always talks about?” Peter hopefully asked, his eyes still red and puffy but sparkling with excitement.

“Nope,” Bucky laughed, ruffling Peter’s hair and placing him on the floor. “You’re going to go wash your face in my bathroom with that expensive cleanser you talked me into while Steve and I pick out something for you.”

“But… please?” Peter’s Bambi eyes made Bucky want to curl up and cry, but he knew he had to stay firm in his resolve.

“I mean… Buck, it couldn’t -“

“No.” Bucky wrapped his arm around Peter’s side, lifting the boy off his feet and walking until he could place him in front of Bucky’s doorway. “He won’t want to leave, and we’re on a schedule.”

“Okay,” both Steve and Peter sighed, and Bucky rolled his eyes in fond exasperation.

“Next time,” he acquiesced, nudging Peter’s shoulder so he’d move forward.

“Holding you to that!” the teen chirped. “You heard that right Mr. Steve America?”

“Loud and clear,” Steve laughed, bumping his shoulder playfully into Bucky’s.

“Let’s hop to it, gentleman.” Bucky loudly clapped his hands, startling the other two who jumped to attention. “Meet back here in 7 minutes, stat.”

“Sir, yes sir,” Peter saluted, darting off into Bucky’s room.

“You’re good with him,” Steve softly remarked, the two men heading into Steve’s room. “And he really looks up to you.”

“Don’t get all sappy on me now, Rogers,” Bucky shyly grumbled, his eyes staring straight ahead. “We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

“That we do,” Steve sighed.

Exactly fourteen minutes after leaving the gym, the trio clambered into the elevator, making their way up to the common area; Bucky in Steve’s black sweatpants (with pockets!) and his own baggy black sweater with an image of a cute cactus that said ‘Hugs?’ underneath, Steve in sweatpants and an honest to god navy argyle sweater he apparently bought himself, and Peter looking extra adorable in Bucky’s sweater (which was practically a dress on his slim form) that said ‘Meow’ except the ‘m’ and ‘w’ were cat faces and the hood had cat ears. Finding pants that would fit Peter had been a challenge, but thankfully Clint had gifted Steve a pair of pajama pants with unicorns on them two sizes too small when the Avengers were first trying to figure out his size during the initial gifting craze (and Peter still had to pull the drawstrings as tight as they would go).

“This way.” Steve tugged Bucky’s sleeve (who in turn grabbed onto Peter’s sleeve), and led them to Bucky’s preferred loveseat.

The women of the group were huddled onto the main couch in more relaxed clothes than usual, with the Widow on one end, followed by Wanda and Pepper in the middle, and then Maria on the other end. All four were hunched over Wanda’s phone, whispering adamantly with one another, but they were suddenly all smiles as the trio walked by (except Widow, who smirked triumphantly at Bucky; he resolutely ignored the woman while Winter growled behind him), Wanda subtly slipping her phone up into her sleeve.

She needn't have worried, however, as Peter was distractedly peering around the room, and Bucky assumed he was still looking for the promised dog.

“Sit." Steve placed his arms on Bucky’s shoulders and pushed him onto one side of the loveseat. “Now you.” The blonde placed Peter on Bucky’s right, and then proceeded to expertly bundle the squawking teen into Bucky’s comfort Snuggie, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt up and leaving just his resentful face peeking out.

“I don’t need to be swaddled like a baby,” Peter griped, struggling to free himself from the hold.

Winter glanced down at the sulking teen. ‘I will admit, he is… what is the word?’

‘A precious cinnamon bun who must be protected at all costs?’ past-Bucky supplied, perched on the armrest next to Bucky.

‘Evidently, you can’t count since that’s more than just one word,’ Winter scoffed, and past-Bucky stuck his tongue out at the other. ‘But yes.’

“It’s Bucky’s,” Steve mentioned, rewrapping the kid so he had one arm free (either to eat or pet the dog, Bucky wasn’t sure).

“It’s comfortable,” Bucky shrugged when Peter glanced curiously over at him. “Trust me, it makes conversations you don’t wanna have a whole lot easier to deal with.”

“Fine,” Peter sighed, relaxing into the giant velvet blanket. He rested his head onto Bucky’s shoulder, his gaze unfocussed as the room bustled around him.

“Foods here,” Stark hollered from the kitchen. “Come serve yourselves, there are drinks in the fridge, and for the love of all that is holy, please do not wipe your messy fingers on the couch, Natasha .”

“You shouldn’t have run out of napkins,” she shrugged, unperturbed by being called out.

‘Disgusting,’ Winter hissed pretentiously; Bucky leaned his head on the back of the couch in time to see Winter glare disdainfully at Natasha.

‘You know…you’re kind of prissy and high maintenance for someone who once stabbed a guy in the throat with the broken handle of a broom,’ past-Bucky noted, eyeing Winter judgmentally.

‘Oh, um, you remember that?’ Winter asked, his expression uncharacteristically shy; he seemed to collect himself after a moment, his face shifting into something more arrogant. ‘That was to complete the mission, so I did whatever needed to be done…she’s gross for no reason at all.’

‘Uh huh,’ past-Bucky rolled his eyes, and Bucky bit his lip to suppress a smile at their antics; sometimes their squabbling was kind of endearing.

“I’ll grab us food… any requests?” Steve asked, grinning down at Peter and Bucky.

“Not that hungry, so whatever you want,” Peter yawned, his eyes blinking sleepily - Bucky and Steve shared a worried look over his head.

'Does no one recall how she tried to blind us?!' Winter fumed as Steve walked off, all three Bucky's pausing to watch his retreat in appreciation for his well-defined backside (though, knowing Winter, he was probably looking at it from a more practical standpoint). 'Because I remember, VERY clearly.'

'I do not recall,' past-Bucky stated, but Bucky could see him struggling to suppressa smile.

'On the bridge!' Winter cried, the plates in his arm whirring aggressively as they shifted. 'She shot us IN THE FACE! Thank the Mission we were wearing goggles...I don't think the serum could have fixed a bullet hole through the eye.'

'I mean...those goggleswere awful,' past-Bucky shrugged, picking at his nails. 'I understand your frustration, but she kinda did us a favor.'

'They did suck,' Winter admitted to their surprise, but crossed his arms over his chest defiantly. 'But I still loathe her.'

'I'm with ya,' Bucky nodded; past-Bucky sighed audibly but agreed with his other two selves.

The elevator dinged, and Bucky chuckled as Peter cracked a hopeful eye open, perking up when he saw who had arrived.

“Barton, did you steal someone’s dog?!” Stark called from the kitchen as Clint stepped off the elevator, a large golden retriever bouncing excitedly behind him. “It’s bad enough having an animal in here, but it’s exceptionally worse if it’s a stolen one.”

“No,” Clint laughed, letting go of the dog’s collar. “Lucky saved my ass a few years ago from a sticky situation, got the stuffing beat out of him for his trouble, and then has been with me ever since I drove him to the emergency vet.”

“So… you’ve hidden him in the Tower this whole time? And not told me?” Wanda gasped, placing a hand dramatically over her heart.

“Don’t be silly.” Clint stood behind the couch she was seated on and leaned down to kiss the top of her head, the teen smiling warmly in response. “He’s back at my old place, and I pay one of the neighbor kids to look after him when I’m not around.”

Bucky tuned their conversation out, the dog in question making a quick circle around the large space with his nose to the ground before bounding over to Peter, somehow having his own doggy sense to know where he was needed.

'That could have been us,' Winter muttered under his breath, frowning down at the one-eyed dog.

“Hey puppy!” Peter cooed, the dog hopping onto their loveseat and shuffling over to them, his body half on the couch and half draped across Peter’s lap. The dog happily licked each of their faces, much to Peter’s joy and Bucky’s disgust (the dog was cute, but he was definitely a cat person).

“Uh…”

Bucky glanced up to see Steve standing awkwardly in front of them with an armful of water bottles and two plates piled high with four-inch sandwiches, the dog sitting in his space.

Without needing to be told, the Lucky scrambled across Bucky and Peter’s laps and turned around, putting his back end on Bucky and his front half on Peter’s, allowing the teen to keep giving him pets and ear scratches while freeing up room for Steve to sit.

“Who’s the best boy ever?” Peter murmured, the dog’s tail wagging enthusiastically in Bucky’s lap. “So smart, aren’t you, Lucky?”

‘Is it just me,’ past-Bucky snickered, ‘or does this dog kind of look like Steve?’

‘He definitely does,’ Bucky agreed at the same time Winter said, ‘It’s just you.’

Past-Bucky huffed in annoyance and glared at the smirking Winter. ‘Why are you always so obstinate?’

‘Ooh, look at you using a big word, guess those children’s books are finally helping you get smarter,’ Winter jeered, his lip curling as he looked down at their original-self.

Past-Bucky bristled, his cheeks flushing a splotchy red. ‘Funny you say that considering you have the most limited vocabulary out of all of us!’

Winter shrugged. ‘Just because I don’t ramble uselessly like the two of you doesn’t mean I don’t have an extensive vocabulary.

“Guys, please, can we focus?’ Bucky sighed softly, wondering if the two would ever learn to get along for more than a few minutes here and there. He didn’t know what the exact word for the opposite of ‘endearing’ was, but this type of squabbling was exactly that; non-endearing.

Steve handed Bucky a plate with a small smile, tilting his head towards Peter, and Bucky nodded in understanding. The blonde cautiously lowered himself into the open space, the loveseat creaking under the combined weight of two Super Soldiers, an enhanced teen, and a hefty, fully grown dog.

‘Despite his origin story, I feel like the dog has more self-preservation instincts and common sense than one Steve Rogers,’ Bucky remarked to the two, trying to steer the conversation to a more amicable topic; he was relieved when they both loudly agreed and then blessedly stopped talking.

“How is he supposed to -”

Stark trailed off, watching open-mouthed at their wordless eating arrangement; Bucky rested his plate on the dog like it was a living, furry table; took a large bite of his sandwich; shifted his arm to the right so Peter could absentmindedly finish the rest without using his hands; at the same time, Steve held his own plate to Peter’s chest to catch any of the hoagie filling that might fall out to prevent it from landing on the dog. They repeated the dance until both plates were empty, the rest of the group silent as they also ate their food.

“Here,” Bucky urged, holding an open water bottle to Peter’s mouth and carefully tilting it up, Peter quickly emptying it.

“Thanks,” he whispered tiredly, his eyes slowly closing but still moving his hand gently through Lucky’s fur.

“Okay, let’s get this show on the road.” Stark clapped his hands twice from the loveseat across from them, jolting Peter out of his sleepy haze. “I feel like I’m the only one who has no idea what’s going on, and I can’t fix something I don’t understand.”

“Umm… I don’t know where to start,” Peter muttered, tensing against Bucky’s side, his eyes on the animal in his lap as everyone turned to look at him.

“How about you start with what happened today?” Steve helpfully suggested, and Bucky was sure the other man felt Peter stiffen, too, as the three of them were squashed tightly together on the too-small seat.

“Okay… so, um, I went to school like normal, and it’s, uh, it’s the anniversary of my parents’ deaths today -”

“Oh, Peter! I’m so sorry, we had no idea, otherwise we could have done something,” Pepper cut in, her tone soft and compassionate.

“No! Um, no thank you, it’s been twelve years, it’s okay,” Peter rushed to assure the woman, glancing up with pleading eyes. “It’s just hard sometimes, ya know? And this year was kind of rough, but I told May I was fine to go to school. But there’s this kid in most of my classes, his name is Flash, and he’s uh -”

“There’s no shame in being bullied, Peter, I think everyone in this room has experienced it in some capacity,” Steve said, his voice unwavering as everyone else nodded their heads in agreement. “Only the perpetrators should be ashamed, not the victims.”

“Flash hasn’t liked me since we first started school together in kindergarten, and it’s been something he’s made known, constantly. He calls me all kinds of names, loudly, makes fun of me for being an orphan, mocks me for every little misstep I’ve ever made. Lately, he’s decided to make it his mission to convince everyone that I’m… um… gay… he also said it’s my fault Uncle Ben died, and that everyone who cares about me is going to suffer a gruesome fate or leave me because I’m… you know, unworthy of being loved.” Peter shrugged self-consciously at the end, his eyes downcast and missing the various angry/distraught looks on the faces of the room’s occupants.

Someone gasped, horrified, and Bucky was glad they hadn’t invited Bruce down if Stark’s thunderous expression was anything to go by.

‘Petition them to complete this evening’s original mission!’ Winter angrily whispered into Bucky’s ear, and Bucky had to bite his cheek so he wouldn’t accidentally suggest that to the group.

“Please tell me you know those are all lies, Peter, I have never heard anything so untrue,” Pepper begged, leaning forward like she wanted to get up and hug the boy. “You are deserving of love and all the good things in the world, and I wish we had the power to give you the kind of life you deserve while taking away the pain and suffering you’ve already endured.”

“And no matter what else might happen, you have us, always,” Bucky firmly promised. “And we are NOT going anywhere.”

“I might go to jail,” Steve quipped, only partially joking.

‘How dare he presume we would get caught?’ Winter grumbled. ‘The sheer audacity; we are professionals! Literally, my whole life has been dedicated to this one skill…assassinate the target, don’t get caught. Have you already destroyed my reputation, Barnes?’ Winter let out a soft gasp, suddenly looking anguished. ‘Oh my, have I been…forgotten?’

‘Wow,’ past-Bucky whistled. ‘Your ego is just…wow.’

‘Yes, you’re right, I am wow ,’ Winter boasted, shrugging off his previous worries so quickly it gave Bucky and past-Bucky whiplash. ‘And don’t you forget it.’

‘You wouldn’t let me if I tried,’ past-Bucky mumbled.

“I can bail you…” Stark glanced between Steve and Bucky, “both of you out, no problem.”

“Or break you out if it comes to that,” Clint muttered furiously, and Wanda nodded, wiggling her fingers, a red haze of magic glowing around her hand.

Winter tapped past-Bucky on the shoulder, and their original-self scooted forward on the armrest without a word; the Soldier then jumped onto the back of the couch, directly behind past-Bucky who reclined backwards, resting his body comfortably against the Soldier’s legs.

(Bucky was confused by two things with this action - one, how they could lean against each other or himself but he couldn’t touch them, his hand always passing through them as if they were ‘ghosts’?…Bucky knew they were figments of his imagination, so the ‘rules’ on how they interacted with each other were probably more fluid, but he wished there was a way he could learn more information about it all without securing himself a one way trip to the psych ward. And two - how could they go from angrily bickering with each other like mortal enemies to relaxing casually on one another like two close companions in the blink of an eye?!)

‘How dare they assume we could not break ourselves out if we somehow got captured?!’ Winter shrieked. ‘I f*cking hate it here, absolutely no respect.’

Past-Bucky consolingly patted Winter’s flesh hand, and Bucky hid an inappropriate smile at the gesture (considering the real life situation happening around him) behind a quiet cough.

Peter wiped a stray tear away, and Bucky reached forward to grab another water bottle off the table, handing it to the teen who took a sip as he gathered his thoughts. Bucky wrapped his arm supportively around the boy’s shoulders, and Steve draped his arm over Bucky’s, the two Super Soldiers needing each other’s anchoring touch to make it through this painful conversation.

“Does he physically hurt you, or is it all verbal?” Maria questioned, holding her hands up defensively as Steve and Stark glared heatedly at her. “Not that verbal abuse isn’t just as serious, I’m only asking because physical altercations are usually easier to get punishments for.”

“Not anymore,” Peter shook his head no. “We’re relatively the same size, but he stopped hitting me in middle school after I elbowed him in the face when he tried to jump me from behind on the way home one day.”

Clint whistled under his breath, “Good for you, kid.”

“Jesus, have any of the school officials gotten involved? I can’t imagine some teacher or administrator hasn’t noticed by this point,” Stark asked, his hands clenching and unclenching into fists in his lap.

“The school principal decided after an incident in freshman year that we just needed to ‘work out our differences’ so they placed us in all of the same classes. May, who hates Flash, tried to appeal, but the guidance counselor told her I was too sensitive and needed to toughen up, or I’d be ‘eaten alive’ in the real world. May wanted to pull me out of the school right then, but I had wanted to go there since I was seven and said no.”

“So you’re telling me,” Stark growled, giving up on trying to appear calm and standing up to angrily pace behind the loveseat he was previously sitting on, “that this kid relentlessly bullies you for your entire school career, and the administrators of your high school conclude the situation is your fault because you were bothered by all his…horrendous bullsh*t, so they decide it’s a good idea for you to spend more f*cking time together, and in a bid to get you two to bond or some sh*t, place you in all the same classes so you can never escape him?”

“Pretty much?” Peter winced. “But it sounds worse than it is, honestly! I’m used to it, so it doesn’t really bother me on most days, I promise.”

“That doesn’t make it okay,” Steve softy muttered, his quiet words hiding the anger Bucky knew was brewing underneath his calm exterior.

“I f*cking hate public school, holy sh*t,” Stark exclaimed, returning to his seat at Pepper’s glare of disapproval.

“What happened today?” Natasha prodded, her face blank, but Bucky noticed her arm was linked through Wanda’s, their hands clasped tightly together.

“Um, well he made a bunch of orphan jokes, and I just… lost it. I screamed at him, not really sure what I said, but then my friend MJ punched him in the face, so I bolted out of there. I texted a friend who didn’t go to our school from the bathroom and then snuck out when he came to pick me up. We went to lunch, cuz I didn’t really want to go home or come here just yet and explain what happened, but I guess Flash or someone from school was there, and they took some pictures. He then put it all over Twitter, calling me a bunch of names and insinuating we were on a date and that this guy was my boyfriend. I haven’t looked yet, but MJ said it was pretty bad.”

“Umm… we looked,” Natasha admitted, frowning slightly. “Your friend is right, and there are some atrocious hashtags trending in our area. But I don’t think any of the comments are from your classmates, just a bunch of internet trolls who have nothing better to do than spread hom*ophobic rhetoric and harass people they don’t know.”

‘Can we add those internet people to the murder list?’ Winter asked hopefully.

Bucky bit his bottom lip. ‘Don’t think so, it would be hard to trace the accounts back to their owners, and from what it sounds like, there would be too many to make an efficient strike.’

‘So you admit, we do have a running murder list?’ Winter gleefully asked, past-Bucky chuckling in response and shaking his head at them.

‘Hush, I need to pay attention,’ Bucky grumbled back, subtly glaring at the two on his left.

“Oh… lovely,” Peter cringed, chewing on his lip in distress. “That sounds fun.”

“You are NOT going back to that abominable institution they claim is a school,” Stark shouted, looking imploringly at Pepper. “He can’t go back there, Pepper, over my goddamn dead body.”

“Tony,” Pepper glared, her eyes boring into Stark’s at his tactless phrasing.

“Oh, sh*t,” Stark waved his hands spastically in the air, his expression chagrined. “Terrible wording, that was my bad, but still… you’re not going back. We can homeschool you here! It’ll be fun… and educational. Totally educational, best tutors money can buy, PLUS special lessons from the Avengers themselves.” Stark turned towards Steve. “Cap, give the kid an example of something you can teach him that he wouldn’t learn in school.”

“How to write an inspiring speech. How to be a good leader. How to ride a motorcycle,” Bucky smoothly answered, holding up a finger for each topic he came up with. “How to lie on government forms. How to steal a car. How to break every rule ever written.”

“Why do you know how to steal a car?” Clint asked, somehow shocked by this revelation.

Steve lightly pinched Bucky’s arm, letting out an audible sigh. “Thanks, Buck, but I don’t think that’s quite what Tony meant.”

“He’s also really good at art,” Bucky added innocently, smirking at Steve over Peter’s head

“I love art.” Peter looked at Steve with wide doe-eyes. “And I want to learn how to ride a motorcycle, too…please?”

Steve glanced helplessly between Pepper, Bucky, and Peter, finally caving into Peter’s adorable pleading eyes with a meek, “Okay.”

“See! You should come to Avengers School,” Stark grinned, keeping his eyes well away from Pepper’s, the woman frowning disapprovingly. “Add in some stealth classes from Natasha, aircraft flying with Clint, languages with the lovely Bucky Bear, and science with Brucey and myself, and everyday will be fun. Wanda can come, too!”

“I passed high school,” Wanda quickly said, holding up her hands. “Call me when you get to college.”

“But most importantly, it will be educational,” Pepper stressed, Maria smirking in amusem*nt next to her.

“Of course,” Stark quickly agreed. “Educational. Always. Lots to teach, lots to learn.”

“Okay, but if he drops out of his current school,” Steve passionately countered, “doesn’t that mean the bully wins? That kid should be the one to leave, not Peter.”

“He’s a senior, and by the time his case moves through the school’s bureaucracy, it’ll be the end of the year and a moot point,” Clint argued. “Plus, Avengers School seems better, regardless.”

“It’s a tactical retreat that offers better opportunities than he had to begin with,” Natasha calmly added in agreement.

“For the record, none of us are qualified to teach,” Steve pointed out, his jaw clenched, and Bucky sensed Steve’s stubbornness was about to become an issue (again).

“When has a lack of qualification stopped you from doing something?” Bucky muttered, his voice loud enough to be heard by the others. “Do you even have a driver’s license?”

“That is not the point,” Steve hissed, glaring at Bucky.

‘You’re on a roll today,’ past-Bucky snorted. ‘Not sure why you’re being like this, though.’

‘I feel like this is not good for the mission objective,’ Winter frowned.

‘Gotta keep him humble…and besides, he’s still safe and protected,’ Bucky countered, not knowing what else to say; the comments seemed to tumble from his lips without much thought beforehand, plus it was kind of funny seeing Steve get all irritated in front of the others, especially because Bucky knew he was trying to keep his temper in check to maintain that wholesome reputation he somehow cultivated over the years.

“Ooooh, Cap is driving illegally,” Stark teased; Steve puffed up in anger, ready to defend himself, but Peter let out a small giggle that had Steve suddenly deflating.

“I am learning so many interesting things about you today, man,” Clint said, his tone laced with awe (only Bucky and Peter heard Steve mutter, ‘I was driving before any of you were born,’ which earned him an amused snort from Peter).

“Rogers is right, if Peter leaves then it’s giving every other bully the knowledge that they can push out people if they try hard enough,” Maria noted.

“But if he stays, is he truly making a point, or is he only suffering more?” Wanda returned.

“OR!” Bucky shouted over the cacophony of voices. “How about we ask Peter what he wants to do and fully support him in that decision?”

Peter’s eyes widened as everyone snapped their mouths shut and turned to look at him, each wearing their own version of an embarrassed expression. “Umm… can I think about it? And decide by Sunday before the start of the new school week?”

“Of course, Peter,” Pepper responded before anyone else could. “Take all the time you need. Maria and I will go down to the school tomorrow to see what we can do with May, and in the meantime, you can kip here for a few days, and we’ll have a tutor set up for you by morning so you don’t miss anything... a qualified tutor.”

“Thanks, Pepper,” Peter shyly smiled.

“We’ll take care of everything,” Maria assured the teen. “Cyberbullying is illegal in New York, so at the very least we can make a case on that.”

“And you can finally use your apartment floor,” Stark pointed out excitedly. “You’ll love the upgrades we recently did -”

“Mr. Stark, I don’t need a whole floor!” Peter rebuffed, his eyes widening in panic. “That’s just… too much space.”

“You can stay with me,” Wanda offered, smiling gently at Peter. “I’ve got a spare room, or we can sleep in the living room… it’ll be like we’re normal kids having a sleepover but on a school day.”

“Oh, that’s very nice of you, but I don’t want to impose for that long,” Peter politely declined. “A weekend here or there is one thing, but I, uh, I can just sleep here, in the common area.”

“Nonsense,” she waved his concerns off. “I have never had so much space to myself in my life, and it’s been… strange, not having Pietro close by.”

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Peter smiled understandingly at the older girl.

“Can we trust you two together?” Steve questioned, glancing seriously between the two teens.

Stark scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Relax, Cap, I think we just went over why we don’t need to have the talk for this specific slumber party.”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Steve cried, his skin flushing in embarrassment as Bucky cackled, throwing his head back. “f*ck, you know what, never mind, have fun, we’ll see you all in the morning, goodnight.”

“Language!” Bucky playfully gasped, wincing when Steve’s pointy elbow made contact with his arm, the blonde somehow managing to lean around Peter and the dog to successfully hit Bucky.

‘Told you to watch for the elbows,’ past-Bucky smirked.

‘We need to work on your reflexes,’ Winter groaned, shaking his head.

‘It was worth it,’ Bucky sang, watching Steve’s pale skin continue to redden at the attention (Bucky briefly wondered what else he could do to maintain or spread that rosy flush, but then immediately shut that thought process down when the first idea that came to mind was his lips on Steve’s skin).

Stark stood up and headed to the kitchen. “Did I mention there’s also an ice cream bar with a full array of toppings?”

“Heck yes!” Clint cheered, following closely behind Stark into the kitchen, Maria, Natasha, and Wanda joining; those remaining on the couches slowly stood up, in less of a rush than their peers to have dessert.

Lucky gave Peter one more lick before bolting off after his owner.

“Um, Pepper?” Peter demurely whispered, picking anxiously at the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders..

“Yes, Peter?” she answered, her smile kind.

“I appreciate you and Maria going down to the school tomorrow, but you don’t really have to go to the trouble -”

Steve and Pepper adamantly began to protest his statement, but Bucky quickly cut them both off.

“Steve, I actually do want ice cream before we go home, can you go get me a giant to-go bowl, please?” Steve opened his mouth to interrupt, but Bucky barreled on with his detailed request. “I want ¾ chocolate ice cream and ¼ vanilla in the biggest bowl available, with peanut butter syrup, exactly two ounces only or my stomach will be sad all night. Add in a dollop of the dark chocolate syrup, a dash of Reese’s Pieces, and a splash of the rainbow sprinkles, not the chocolate ones, those are gross. Thanks, bye.”

Steve gaped at him. “What? But Bucky -”

“I’ll make sure he gets it right,” Pepper laughed, dragging the flustered man with her to the kitchen.

Bucky squatted down, lowering himself exactly to Peter’s height, and gently cupped his cheeks with his hands, the boy’s doe-eyes shyly focusing on his face. “Hey, kid, I know today was a lot, and it’s going to take time to process. But brains can be sh*tty sometimes, and yours is probably telling you that the kid is speaking the truth, isn’t it?” Peter remained unmoving for several moments before slowly nodding. “They’re both wrong. You deserve love, you deserve kindness, you matter, just as you are, and helping you is NOT a bother. Okay? It’s something we are all freely choosing to do because we care about you, Peter. And I will tell you every day if I need to.”

Peter blinked rapidly, several tears falling from his eyes, and Bucky gently used his sleeve to blot them away. “You deserve all those things, too.”

“This isn’t -”

“No,” Peter said firmly, his eyes narrowed, and he stomped his foot angrily (‘He’s so cute,’ past-Bucky cooed) . “If I’m a victim, then you definitely are. And you are deserving of love, and kindness, and all those nice things you just said to me.”

Bucky held his hands up in surrender, sensing a losing argument before it truly began. “Okay, okay, fine. I accept that. But hey, take your time thinking about what you want to do, alright? It’s your life, and no matter what, we’ll have your back.”

Peter sniffled, his eyes still wet, but nodded. “Kay. Love you, man.”

Bucky swept Peter into a tight hug and stood up, bringing the teen with him, Peter’s feet dangling down towards the ground. “Love you, too, squirt.”

“Can’t...breathe,” Peter choked out, and Bucky loosened his hold, patting Peter gently on the head a few times in apology.

[SgtJamesBarnes]: I’m sorry to bother you so late Ms. Potts, but Steve mentioned once you might be able to help

[SgtJamesBarnes]: Can I ask a favor, please, ma’am?

[PepperPotts]: It’s Pepper… no need to be so formal, James, you’re part of the family.

[PepperPotts]: (Maria says you need to pencil us in for tea time asap, you’re long overdue)

[PepperPotts]: What can I do for you?

[SgtJamesBarnes]: Oh.. thank you, I can’t tell you how happy that makes me feel

[SgtJamesBarnes]: (You guys are the busy ones, not me, so let me know when you’re free!)

[SgtJamesBarnes]: Can you help me become ‘undead’ legally? I’m trying to work on becoming more of a person again, and I don’t want to create a new identity or pretend I’m someone I’m not

[SgtJamesBarnes]: I am James Buchanan Barnes, and I want to be able to say that without fear of the repercussions

[PepperPotts]: I would be happy to help you with that, James!

[PepperPotts]: Maria and I will get right on it, but it might take a few weeks. I’ll text you when I have more info, and to schedule our next catching up session

[SgtJamesBarnes]: Thank you so much, Pepper (✺ᵔ‿ᵔ✺)

[SgtJamesBarnes]: Can we keep this between us three for now?

[PepperPotts]: Of course ୧ʕ•̀ᴥ•́ʔ୨

Chapter 7: Spilling Secrets

Chapter Text

Team Breakfast in the Tower was a foreign concept for the Avengers, except maybe after a mission, and that was only because they’d arrived back at the Tower at such a strange time that it made sense to pile into the common area and order something to eat as a group before going their separate ways.

With Peter guaranteed to be in the Tower full-time for the next few days, Tony requested (demanded) via the Avengers/Baby Avengers group chat that all Tower occupants present themselves for a catered breakfast by 7am sharp the next morning.

Tony then created a second group chat without Peter to further add that the Team breakfast would provide the kid with a sense of normalcy, so they better all suck it up and attend; Clint texted back saying what everyone was thinking, pointing out that Team Breakfast was inherentlynotnormal. Tony quickly responded and said the secondary goal was to act as a subtle reminder to Peter that he was one of them, and they supported him fully...Steve had ‘aw’d’ aloud at that part of the message because Tony, like Natasha, cared deeply for the people closest to them (though sometimes had weird ways of showing it), despite believing themselves to be incapable of genuine emotional connections.

Perhaps realizing he showed too much of the real Tony Stark and not the Genius-Billionaire-Philanthropist Tony Stark persona he cultivated over the years, he sent an additional message -

‘Anyone who doesn’t show will face Pepper’s wrath! And for those who lack awareness of their surroundings, she’s bff’s with Maria Hill, and they’re fully attached at the hip, so take that as you will… it’s a threat, please take it like that. Anyone who isn’t there better be on their literal death bed, and no, being frozen in ice is not an acceptable excuse, neither is a Code Green, or being on a different planet… am I being clear, enough? You can even wear your pajamas, I don’t care, just look semi-decent, please… Cap, that was directed to you, those tank tops you like to rock are NOT breakfast table appropriate.’ (Which was rude and completely untrue, but whatever, Steve was adult enough to let it go).

The threat of setting Pepper on them was perhaps the only thing scary enough to corral everyone into the common area at such an “ungodly” hour (early for everyone but Steve, Pepper, and Maria… Steve because he liked to run in the mornings, and the women because they had actual jobs, like the real, functioning people they were). Hell, even Natasha, who Steve personally thought was terrifyingly good at everything, was unnerved by Pepper’s prowess, both as a business woman and the ‘Team Mom’ of the Avengers. (“She’s a machine, Steve, she’s gotta be! Or a witch. I’ve never seen anyone get so much done in a single day without looking frazzled afterwards, and she looks flawless, and then she’ll come upstairs after working ten hours, and she’ll yell at Clint for eating nothing but cheetos all day as if she was there but she wasn’t, and then she’ll braid Wanda’s hair while responding to emails and commenting on the news and just… how, Steve? How?”)

Steve only managed to get Bucky out of their apartment in time by a combination of divine intervention and well placed bribery. Apparently, the former-assassin could get up in the morning if his body randomly decided it wanted to be up at that time (or if he had a nightmare), but if Bucky didn’t wake up on his own? Well… Steve forgot until this morning how his friend regularly slept ten to twelve hours straight when they were kids and regularly didn’t get out of bed until well past noon. Hell, Bucky could sleep through a literal earthquake without waking up (it happened once).

Steve was clever about waking Bucky up, though, asking Friday to increase the brightness of Bucky’s room progressively from 6am to 6:30am in an attempt to wake him up naturally. It worked to an extent; Bucky was awake when Steve went to check on him, but he was grumbling sleepily, trying to bury further into his giant nest of blankets and pillows. Steve, forcing himself to resist giving into the adorable sight by reminding himself that this was all for Peter, yanked the blankets onto the floor, dodging half-hearted kicks and swats along the way.

"Jesus, Buck, why is it so cold in here?" Steve grumbled, feeling goosebumps starting to form on his arms. Bucky, unlike Steve, slept with his bedroom door closed, and the temperature difference between the hallway and Bucky's bedroom had to be at least twenty degrees.

"Sergeant Barnes sleeps better when the temperature in his bedroom is colder," Friday reported when Bucky remained silent.

Oh...Steve frowned in confusion before the realization of why that must be hit him like a train - Bucky had slept for decades in a cryo chamber and likely struggled to fall asleep on his own if the temperature wasn't ridiculously cold. Steve clenched his fists, his loathing for Hydra once again increasing tenfold.

“Why must you hurt me this way?” Bucky moaned, covering his bare torso with his arms, seeking warmth in the freezing room now that he was sans blankets.

“Tony wants us all at breakfast this morning so we can spend time with Peter before his tutoring starts, “ Steve patiently explained since Bucky hadn’t been added to the Team group chat yet.

Steve justified the lack of inclusion into the group chat by telling himself it was because Bucky wasn’t an official member yet; if Steve was being truthful with himself, it was predominantly because the other Avengers spent half their time ribbing him (as well as each other), and the messages were mortifying enough on their own without Bucky baring witness to them. Steve had a thing about wanting to look good in Bucky’s eyes since they were children, and their jokes at his expense would do the complete opposite of that. The group spent the other half of their time asking extremely invasive questions about Steve, including what he was like before the ice and before the serum - Bucky LOVED recounting stories about Steve’s mischievous youth, and the Avengers would poke and prod for everything they could. It was all a recipe for disaster, so Steve would delay the inevitable as long as he could and only feel mildly guilty about it.

“Can’t we start at noon? Five more minutes at least, please, Stevie?” Bucky begged, scrunching his nose cutely before curling himself into a ball, using his thick hair as a shield to block the light.

“Fine, but I’m picking an outfit out for you… comfy or stylish?” Steve asked, struggling to keep himself from gawking at his shirtless friend’s muscular torso - how was Bucky so jacked after not exercising or training for the last few months?! Steve felt weak and scrawny in comparison (which was a familiar feeling, truthfully, but he felt somewhat mollified by the fact that Bucky was an inch or two shorter than him these days).

“You pick,” Bucky mumbled drowsily. “Don’t make it ugly, though, or I’ll make you wear it instead.”

Steve rolled his eyes even though Bucky couldn’t see him; Steve may not be the most fashion knowledgeable guy out there, but he was pretty sure Bucky had never looked ugly in anything in all of their ninety-something years of life.

“Friday, set a timer for five minutes, please. And engage ‘Wake-Up Protocol’ if Bucky isn’t sitting up within a minute after the timer goes off.”

“Of course, Captain.”

Steve dashed down the hall to his room, already knowing exactly what outfit he would choose for his friend; he’d been saving this purchase for Christmas (or any occasion that would allow Steve to randomly gift Bucky something without bringing too many questions onto himself), but now seemed as good a time as any. He understood hiding anything in his closet, or hell, hiding anything in the Tower was a risky choice, but a few weeks before Bucky was cleared to live with him, Steve had a cubbyhole built into the back of his closet, the space hidden by a wooden panel painted the exact same shade as the rest of the closet wall. For added security measures, it opened by using a biometric scanner set only to his finger print, followed by a four digit code (0307), and then a six letter password (BUCKYB).

He honestly had nothing to hide from his friend besides a few random items and mementos he would gift to Bucky later on, but Steve knew every version of Bucky to ever exist was nosy as f*ck, and Steve figured at the very least, the former-assassin would approve of his commitment to security. Plus, Bucky always loved a challenge, and the lengths Steve went to in order to hide these objects would make Bucky giddy with anticipation to find out what they were and why they were hidden from him… assuming he found the secret cubby hole to begin with.

When Steve returned to Bucky’s room, he found his friend sitting up in bed, groggy and with his eyes still closed.

“I got you a gift,” he announced, standing in front of the bed with two gift bags. He waited until Bucky perked up at the mention of presents, one eye cracking open to see what he’d been given, before adding the caveat. “But you can’t open it until you brush your teeth and meet me in the living room.”

“That’s not fair!” Bucky whined, shooting Steve an offended albeit sleepy glare. “You didn’t get me clothes like you promised, now you’re tempting me with presents I can’t have? I don’t think I want to live in this cruel world you’re building, pal.”

“Do what I said, and you can have them. And don’t worry about clothes, those are in the living room, too,” he lied (sort of).

“Yes, sir, Captain, sir,” Bucky sarcastically replied, complete with the dramatic saluting (but he finally got out of bed and stumbled his way into the bathroom, so Steve chalked it up as a win).

“I brushed my teeth,” Bucky proudly declared three minutes later.

He entered the living room clad only in black pajama pants adorned with silver moons that seemed to sparkle when he moved, the garment hanging dangerously low on his hips. Bucky flung himself onto the couch, nearly elbowing Steve in the neck in the process, and leaned over to blow his fresh, minty breath right into Steve’s face.

“Why?” he sighed, blinking his stinging eyes as Bucky smirked smugly next to him, a little more awake now that he was up and moving.

“Presents, please,” Bucky politely demanded, sitting prim and proper on the couch, his hands clasped together in his lap. His gaze was focused on the two solid color gift bags, one red and one black, as if he could reveal the contents if he stared hard enough (and who knows, maybe he could?...which was a slightly terrifying thought and a road Steve refused to allow himself to go down).

“I may have stretched the truth a bit,” Steve chuckled nervously, running a hand anxiously through his hair as Bucky gasped angrily next to him. “Only one is for you, the other is for me.”

“You bought yourself a present and wrapped it?” Bucky judgmentally questioned, shooting Steve a disgruntled side eye.

“You’ll see.” Steve passed the black bag to Bucky, his friend casting him another wary look before carefully pulling the items out, his demeanor changing completely during the process.

“Oh! You remembered?” Bucky beamed at the blonde, holding up a pair of black leggings with yellow decorative trim crawling up one leg and ‘Hufflepuff’ written down the side of the other leg under the House Crest.

“‘Course, I may not have read the books or seen the movies, but I do listen when you talk about them. And those are made for working out, so they should be supportive and flexible enough for training, and they also have pockets along the legs, something the internet says is very important.”

“Of course pockets are important, ya goof. Where else is a guy gonna put his uh… phone?” (And his knife collection, but Steve didn’t need Bucky to spell that one out for him).

“No excuses then for not bringing your phone with you, then,” Steve laughed, teasingly glaring at his friend who ignored him completely to move onto the next item in the bag.

“Oh my god!” Bucky squealed, clutching the last item excitedly to his chest; a black long-sleeved shirt, with ‘Hufflepuff Quidditch’ written boldly in yellow on the front with two crossed broomsticks below the wording; on the back, ‘BARNES’ with the number ‘10’ underneath his last name.

“You like it?” Steve questioned, delighted by Bucky’s enthusiastic reaction. A few months ago, he’d never imagine Bucky would come this far from the emotionless, detached state he arrived in (well, mostly emotionless… he did sass the f*ck out of Steve during their very first interaction, so that had to count for something). “I took the tags off and had them washed before I put them away, so you can wear them to breakfast.”

“I love it!” Bucky gushed, tugging the shirt over his head; it was a little loose on him, which Steve knew was his preferred way to wear his comfort clothes.

Bucky gave a little twirl when he was done, and Steve smiled nostalgically at the action, remembering the many, many times a younger Bucky did the same thing when he got something new. Steve almost had a heart attack, though, when Bucky shucked his pajama pants off in the middle of the living room to pull the leggings on (he had turned around so his backside faced Steve, but still).

“Jesus, Buck, warn a guy,” Steve coughed, cheeks flaming at the unexpected show of tan skin and knowledge that Bucky did not wear underwear to bed. Or apparently with leggings.

“What’s the big deal? I’m sure you’ve seen my butt before, and regardless, it’s just some bare skin, nothing to get fussy over,” Bucky scoffed, glancing over his shoulder to glare challengingly at Steve, the leggings only halfway pulled up. His gray eyes raked up and down, taking in Steve’s flustered appearance. “Aww, you gettin all shy in your old age, pal?”

“I’ve always been shy, thank you,” Steve daintily sniffed, because it was true. He made the mistake of glancing back over at Bucky, and good lord, how could his ass look so?...nope, nope, he wasn’t going to go there, he should not be objectifying his friend like this, it was wrong.

“Figured it was just because you were scrawny and insecure about it, not that there was anything wrong with the way you looked back then,” Bucky shrugged, turning his head back around. “Also, not sure why you’d be shy now, either, if we’re being honest.”

“Some parts of my past are hard to move on from,” Steve remarked, perhaps a little sterner than intended, still flustered by the ample amount of smooth, bare skin he wasn’t expecting to see this early in the morning (or ever).

He also declined to mention that other people’s body’s were what made him nervous these days, and even then, only certain people. Steve wasn’t too fussed about showing off his body like he had been during his youth; he didn’t do it for attention or anything, but he also wouldn’t go out of his way to cover himself up if he was changing in the locker room at the gym or before heading out on a mission with the Team.

“Well, I’m sorry if I offended. I think certain things are still conditioned into me, and nudity not being an issue is one of them…I’ll be more thoughtful in the future, promise,” Bucky apologized solemnly, twisting back around to face Steve, now fully dressed. His eyes stayed firmly on the floor, and he shifted nervously where he stood as if Steve would scold him… or worse.

Confused by Bucky's sudden apprehension, Steve racked his brain for the cause before understanding struck; Hydra likely afforded Bucky zero privacy in regards to his body while also punishing him for literally any misstep, minor or not - a part of Bucky would always expect punishment after any perceived wrongdoing (though, he never seemed to expect it from anyone but Steve, which was troubling).

He’s probably afraid you’ll kick him out or refuse to let him go on missions if he offends you, so he walks on eggshells when you’re around.

“What do you think?” Bucky timidly asked, breaking Steve from his pessimistic train of thought.

Holding his arms out wide, Bucky gave another twirl to show the complete outfit.

“It looks great!” Steve complimented honestly, mentally kicking himself for not buying the shirt an extra size bigger so it would be long enough to cover Bucky’s butt, because holy sh*t, those leggings were uh… very supportive, and Bucky had a great deal of muscle to pack into those. It was extremely distracting, and Steve berated himself for being unable to look away until Bucky turned back around again, leaving him no choice.

“Thank you, Steve.” Bucky’s cheeks were dusted pink under his stubble, and Steve almost cooed at his sudden shyness. “It means a lot to me you’d go out of your way to get me something meaningful like this, especially for no reason.”

“There is a reason,” Steve disagreed, grabbing Bucky’s hand and pulling him back down onto the couch. He shifted to face the other, his face suddenly serious. “It’s because Bucky Barnes deserves nice things, and I’m happy to be in a position to give him those things for once, instead of the other way around.”

Bucky remained silent for a few moments, gaze distant as he sorted through his scrambled memories. “You always bitched up a storm anytime I gave you something, though.”

“You gave me expensive or hard to find things with no explanation of how you got them!” Steve grumbled defensively, decades of frustration flowing over. “And to make it worse, you’d spin the tallest tales I’ve ever heard about how you got them - I remember one story had something to do with magical pirates and an elephant.”

Over the years, Bucky’s most common gifts tended to be art supplies, which was a blessing because Steve loved to draw and paint, but his Ma could never really afford the materials; he received brand new charcoal and pencils, professional grade drawing paper, paints and brushes, sketchbooks, and even an easel once; he’d also received non-art gifts like books, various food items (usually baked goods or fruits), tickets to baseball games, and sometimes clothes, especially in winter.

Bucky snorted, a coy smile slowly blooming across his face. “Still bothers you, doesn’t it?”

“Yes!” Steve crossed his arms defiantly. Even his Ma had been concerned at the beginning; Mrs. Barnes had laughed uproariously when Sarah Rogers had politely asked where Bucky was getting all the stuff he was giving to Steve, and she refused to say, though she assured his Ma that Bucky wasn’t stealing the items or the money for them.

“It ain’t nothin like you’re thinking, I’m sure,” Bucky giggled, bumping his shoulder lightly into Steve’s. “It’s funny what a charming smile or a well practiced sob story can get you back then.” He paused, chewing on his lip. “My sister’s were just as good, if not better than me at it, too.”

“Your sisters helped you hustle people out of things so you could give them to me?” Steve questioned skeptically, rubbing his chin; the Barnes girls liked him, sure, but enough to semi-regularly help Bucky con people out of stuff? He had his doubts.

“You’re forgetting, Stevie,” Bucky began with a small, sentimental smile, “our Pa was the best mechanic in town…he had connections to all sorts of rich and important folk, and they would regularly come into his shop. One of the art professors down at the college overheard me fretting to Becca about what to get you for your birthday when we were eight, remember that time you were really sick for like a month and missed the start of the new school year?” Steve nodded, because that hadn’t been shaping up to be a good birthday until Bucky snuck in his window while Steve was confined to bed rest - the gift tucked into his backpack had been a bonus, as the real present had been getting to spend time with Bucky for the first time in weeks. “I wanted it to be special, but Ma said we couldn’t afford any of the things I wanted to get you. And that lady came in the next day to pick up her car and gave me an entire set of new paints, brushes, and paper. Said she wished more people would care about others the way I cared about you and made me promise I’d never forget what it meant to be a good friend.”

“Oh, wow, you never told me that story,” Steve noted, stunned. That paint set had been the first one he ever owned and helped establish his love for other art mediums besides sketching.

“Well, no, it’s kind of embarrassing,” Bucky chuckled shyly, tucking a lock of shimmering hair behind his ear (Steve found the combinations of black and dark blue, with some purple highlights mixed in, to be absolutely enchanting). “I was throwing a fit in the corner of the shop for days, and I’m pretty sure my Pa was at his wits end before that lady saved the day. Then, it kind of spiraled from there, and my sisters and I made it into a never ending competition to see who was the most charming.”

Steve co*cked his head, confused. “Still doesn’t explain why they’d get amazing stuff and then give it to me.”

“Stevie.” Bucky stared at him with his ‘you’re being stupid on purpose, but I’ll still answer because I’m nice like that’ expression. “I’m pretty sure you were the only reason they passed some of their classes over the years. You did their hair all the time, and you did it a thousand times better than I ever could. You fought guys who would harass them despite not being able to fight and me telling you to let it go cuz I would handle it later. You sassed the f*ck out of the girls who were mean to them. I had first dibs on the stuff they got because I told them that if they didn’t hand it over, we’d hang out at your house instead of ours, and they’d never see you again.”

“Oh my gosh, you didn’t!” Steve cackled, throwing his head back, somehow shocked at his friend’s audacity. “And you say I was mischievous, dear lord, Buck, what a riot, I can’t believe they bought that.”

“They didn’t care about most of the stuff, and I let them keep whatever money they got because I wasn’t that mean,” Bucky dismissively shrugged. “So, now you’ve solved that mystery, I need to solve mine. What’s in the other bag?” Bucky tried to peek over the top of the bag to see into it.

“Do you want to open it, even though it’s for me?” Steve laughed, loving how Bucky looked like a kid on Christmas with such a simple gesture on Steve’s part - he was definitely going to start giving Bucky gifts more often, that was for sure.

“Oh my god, did you really?” he gasped.

Steve’s bag contained a matching pair of leggings and a short-sleeved shirt, except they were all Gryffindor items instead of Hufflepuff. Steve’s shirt was dark maroon instead of black and had gold writing rather than yellow; on the back it said ‘ROGERS’ with the number ‘04’ underneath. Their leggings were essentially identical (besides representing different Hogwarts Houses), but Steve knew from trying them on earlier that they didn’t look nearly as good on him as they did Bucky.

“Thought we could match,” Steve shrugged, nervously picking at his current shirt. Was this weird? He didn’t know a damn thing about Harry Potter except for what he learned from Bucky’s various rants, but Bucky was very vocal about how Captain America was a paragon of Gryffindor - reckless, courageous, foolish, daring, and determined.

And Bucky, according to himself at least, was just a humble Hufflepuff - trustworthy, loyal, nice, and hardworking; Hydra may have tried to rip the Hufflepuffness out of him, but he’d be damned if he’d let them succeed. So, Steve, being a good friend, wanted to help Bucky embrace his Hufflepuff traits and ordered the clothes online one evening on the way back from a mission in the hopes that the physical reminder would be beneficial, and it just made sense for Steve to get a set, too.

Obviously.

“Put it on!” Bucky demanded, pushing the clothes into Steve’s arms. “We’re gonna be late.”

Steve swiftly changed, Bucky turning around to give him privacy, which certainly did not disappoint Steve at all (okay, it did a little bit…a small part of Steve wanted Bucky to be impressed by his body, a fact he would not examine too closely at this current moment).

“Ta-da.” Steve spread his arms out and spun in a slow circle.

Bucky gaped at him, his eyes locked on Steve’s upper torso.

“What?” Steve asked, his shoulders slumping when Bucky failed to say anything. “You hate it, don’t you?”

“No!” Bucky screeched. He paused, clearing his throat before continuing. “But, Steve, buddy, I gotta ask…do you buy your shirts that small on purpose? Can you breathe?”

“Yes, I can breathe,” Steve huffed, fidgeting. He crossed his arms in an attempt to keep from tugging at the shirt, but it just caused Bucky’s eyes to widen further. “It was the biggest size they had… does it look that bad?”

“No,” Bucky firmly repeated, shaking his head. “You just look f*ckin jacked, holy sh*t. As long as it’s comfortable, I think you’re good.”

Steve tried not to puff out at the compliment like some super serum’d peaco*ck, but he would admit, to himself at least, it felt good to have his physique approved by his friend.

“Thank you for this, truly,” Bucky said, pulling him into a tight hug that Steve readily returned. The shorter man leaned back for a moment, keeping his arms around Steve’s shoulders, and to Steve’s utter shock, Bucky leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “I love it a lot, Stevie,” he whispered softly before dropping his arms down and taking a step back. Bucky dipped his head down, his flowing hair hiding his expression.

“Anything for you, Buck,” he responded sincerely, feeling like his heart was going to pound through his chest at the unexpected display of affection.

“Was that your first kiss since the 40’s?” Bucky coyly asked, glancing up at Steve through long lashes, his lips tilted upwards in a semblance of a smirk.

“Why does everyone ask me that?” Steve huffed, lightly shoving his friend's shoulder. “No, and don’t tell, but my first kiss after the ice was with Natasha, during a mission.”

“Oh,” Bucky faltered, his nose wrinkling. He seemed to shake himself and spoke more steadily. “Cool.”

“Five minutes until the designated breakfast time,” Friday warned, likely to anyone who wasn’t in the common area yet. “Boss advises everyone should begin making their way up now, or they will face the aforementioned consequences.”

Bucky raised a questioning eyebrow at Steve.

“Tony’s gonna sick Pepper on us if we’re late,” Steve chuckled, especially when Bucky gasped and then shivered in response.

“Love that woman, but she scares the daylights out of me. Wanda mentioned every time she’s seen here around the Tower lately, she’s literally glued to Maria, which is just...”

They both winced. “A recipe for world domination?”

“Let’s not give the Universe any ideas and also agree to make a joint effort to stay in their good graces,” Bucky laughed, tossing his right arm over Steve’s shoulders and leading him into the elevator. “I knew they were friends, obviously, but I didn’t realize how close they were.”

“Agreed,” Steve laughed, secretly pleased when Bucky kept his arm around his shoulder as the elevator doors closed. “But, hey, I know you’re going to hate this, but I think you should apologize to Natasha for yesterday.

Bucky tensed up, his face hardening. “No.”

“Please, Buck.” Steve jutted his bottom lip out and adopted his best puppy dog expression. “You were really harsh to her out of nowhere, and I get you two don’t get on for whatever reason, but Natasha means a lot to me, and she was there for me when I had no one else, ya know? It’s important to me that you guys are at least on civil terms, sooo… please?”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, and Steve could hear his teeth grinding, but he finally gave in with a huff. “Whatever, fine. Is Thor going to be there?”

“Ah,” Steve cringed, recalling their Team meeting from a few days ago where he saw the Asgardian for the first time since parting ways after Sokovia. “He’s uh, been through a lot over the last year. He’s invited, but just want to warn you… he looks a bit different.”

“Okay…”

“I know how much you’re screaming on the inside at the thought of meeting him,” Steve teased, wrapping his arm around Bucky’s waist and squeezing him closer into his side.

They stared at each other while leaning back against the elevator, Bucky’s face inches from his and set in a hilariously scandalized expression.

“He’s a literal alien space god, Stevie!” Bucky cried, nearly shaking in excitement. “How could I not be screaming? And he’s f*ckin hot, like pretty sure the mythology books glossed over that, but I saw the news, and wow, that is a man. They don’t make them like that here on Earth, that’s for damned sure. This is all just…”

“Mind blowing?” Steve supplied, ignoring the sudden queasy feeling in his stomach, likely due to his extreme hunger since he went on his run this morning and hasn’t eaten anything since his first breakfast two hours ago.

“Yep,” Bucky agreed, waving his free arm around as he talked. “The technology and all is cool, but aliens? And magic? Magical aliens!? With magic hammers that can control lightning and thunder? And! Steve, there are so many f*ckin good book series now, we need to get a second bookshelf or ten, cuz real books are a thousand times better than the e-reader ones. Like, past me is in a tizzy over something new everyday.”

“Anything you want, Buck,” Steve promised, grinning softly and feeling like his heart would simply burst from the fondness it had for the adorably nerdy man next to him.

The elevator dinged, the doors sliding open, and relief shot through Steve when he saw they weren’t the last ones to arrive. Wanda, Natasha, and Clint were silently hunched over their jumbo coffee mugs at the table looking as if they had woken up literally minutes ago, and Tony and Bruce were in the kitchen uncovering a plethora of dishes that smelled amazing and seemed like enough food for an entire army platoon.

“Morning everyone. Where’s Peter?” Steve greeted, noticing the distinct absence of the boy they were all gathering for.

Clint, Natasha, and Wanda all halfheartedly waved, still staring blankly into their beverages and evidently having a difficult time functioning this early in the morning.

“He’s a teenager, Captain,” Tony scoffed, giving him a look that Steve assumed he was supposed to understand (which he did not, and he hoped his answering facial expression conveyed that properly), and Bruce laughed quietly at the exchange.

Bucky apparently understood, though, pulling away from Steve and heading in the opposite direction of the kitchen towards the couches.

“Hey, kid,” Bucky greeted quietly, peering down at something on the loveseat. “You gotta see my new shirt, I think you’ll like it.”

Steve followed behind Bucky, and they both stared amusedly at the tiny ball Peter curled himself into, complete with a throw pillow over where they presumed his head to be.

“Nooo,” Peter whined, sounding so much like Bucky earlier this morning (especially after Steve removed the pillow from Peter's face, and Bucky poked the teen a few times in the shoulder) that it made him wonder if the teen hero was slowly becoming Bucky’s mini me. “Eyes stay closed, bye bye.”

Apparently karma did exist, because Bucky seemed to be suffering from the same wow-thats-so-f*cking-cute-I-cant-even crisis that Steve experienced earlier when trying to wake the former-assassin, and he cast a helpless look at his fellow Super Soldier - Steve unhelpfully shrugged, because payback was a bitch.

“Please, Peter?” Bucky pleaded, his tone soft and sad.

Steve didn’t need to see Bucky’s face to know he was pouting, and apparently Peter had a sixth sense for it, too, for the teen opened one eye with a huff.

“Oh.” Peter blinked, now looking at Bucky with both eyes. “Oh, ohmygosh, Bucky!”

Peter squealed when Bucky briefly turned around to show him the back of the shirt. “So cute, sooo cute. Hufflepuff pride all the way, man, yes! Oh my god, I want one, too.”

“Yeah?” Bucky laughed sheepishly, glancing at Steve who nodded in agreement at the request. “Consider it done, squirt, you can match Steve and me. Now, how about some food?”

“My legs say no, sorry, bye bye,” Peter declined, trying to curl himself back into a ball.

“No worries, don’t need them.”

Steve hovered anxiously as Bucky maneuvered the half-asleep teen onto his back, Peter squawking indignantly at suddenly finding himself ripped from his sleeping spot so Bucky could give him a piggyback ride to the table.

“Stop fussing, Steve,” Bucky chided, glaring back at the blonde walking closely on his heels. “He’s literally sticking to me, I can’t drop him accidentally just cuz he’s practically asleep.”

“Please don’t purposefully drop me,” Peter muttered, his face partially hidden under Bucky’s hair.

“Got to, time to sit.” Bucky extended his left foot to pull a chair out, turning around so Peter could climb down directly into his seat.

“No,” Peter rejected petulantly, and Steve heard Bucky sharply exhale as Peter’s legs tightened around him. “Too comfy.”

“There are cronuts if you sit down,” Wanda laughed softly at the other teen. “And coffee.”

“Life blood,” Peter purred, letting go of Bucky to fall clumsily backward without looking behind him first; thankfully, Wanda’s magic reached out, preventing a disaster from occurring.

“It’s buffet style, folks,” Tony announced, clapping his hands together and looking ruffled and slightly chaotic, as if he hadn’t gone to bed at all. “So, get your sorry behinds up and grab a plate or four, yes Cap, that was for you and your honey badger. We got everything you could ever want, pastries, fruit, eggs, more meat than a guy’s locker room at a football game, and there are four different types of potato dishes, you’re welcome, Clint.”

“Where are the others?” Steve questioned, noticing Vision, Thor, and Pepper/Maria hadn’t appeared yet.

“Thor took Vision to New Asgard to help with some farming issue, or something uninteresting like that… kinda tuned the explanation out,” Tony half explained, shrugging at Steve’s raised eyebrow. “Pepper said those were acceptable reasons to miss Team breakfast, though I tried to disagree, but ya know… that didn’t work too well for me, so it’ll be just us and the lovely ladies whenever we are deemed worthy of their time.”

“If Peter is doing tutoring here, why do we have to get up so early? Can’t he just start at normal people hours?” Clint asked, the others mumbling hotly in agreement.

“Pepper said preserving as many routines as possible is the best route we can take now, and Bruce agreed with her, meaning my wondrous plan for a noon start was shot from the beginning,” Tony whined dramatically, in between bites of some fancy pastry Steve assumed was a cronut. “Especially while Peter is deciding how he wants to proceed with everything. Unfortunately, the American school system believes kids should start at 8am, or god forbid, earlier, so here we are, rising with the youth of the world…or like, people with real jobs. Now, come get your damn food before all this catering goes to waste.”

“I got you, kid,” Bucky said to Peter who had pillowed his head on his arms and was trying to fall back asleep at the table, fortunately not hearing the comment about the possibility of starting at noon. “Steve will get the coffee.”

“Captain ‘Merica is my hero, woo,” Peter muttered in response, causing Bucky to ruffle the teen’s hair and Steve to laugh softly at the scene.

Steve followed Bucky into the kitchen, elbowing the other until he was ahead of him in line, not wanting to deal with a full out Bucky-Natasha bitch fest so early in the morning (at least without him buffering in between). The two former-assassins were already glaring at each other around Steve (well, Bucky was glaring, Natasha was smirking), and he mentally prepared himself for the upcoming showdown, internally crossing his fingers that no one pulled a knife unless it was to butter a roll.

Steve eyed the two wearily, already tired of their drama. “Bucky has something to say to you, Nat.”

“I do not, actually,” Bucky disagreed, scooping a large portion of egg and potato casserole onto his plate, his shoulders tense.

“He does, actually.” Steve stepped on Bucky's foot, wincing at the sharp elbow he got in the side in retaliation.

“Fine,” he huffed, placing his plate onto the counter and taking a step back so Steve didn’t block his view of the redhead. He stood up straight, clasping his hands in front of him, solemnly bowing his head, the picturesque image of remorse. “I am sorry you were offended by my accurate and truthful assessment of your character yesterday. Please forgive my honesty, as I know the truth can be painful to hear when you’re willfully blind to the facts. ”

“Bucky, really?” Steve scolded over the sound of Natasha’s bark of laughter.

Bucky lifted his head and jutted his chin out defiantly. “And I would like it to be clearly stated that I will gut you like a fish with the dullest knife in existence and feed your insides to the birds in Central Park if you ever upset Steve in such a way again, do I make myself clear, Natasha?”

“Crystal clear, Barnes,” Natasha chuckled like she knew something they didn’t.

Steve face palmed, because seriously, what did he even expect to happen? It was made worse when Natasha patted his arm consolingly before moving further down the line to talk to Bruce.

“No life ending threats before noon, please,” Pepper laughed, her and Maria appearing in line behind them, dressed to the nines. To Steve’s shock, Bucky greeted each warmly with an embrace, both women placing a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“You are absolutely glowing, James, and I meant to tell you this the other day, but your new haircut looks fantastic on you,” Pepper complimented, Maria nodding in agreement next to her. “Did you use one of those face masks you were telling me about?”

Steve had no idea Bucky and Pepper talked regularly. He uneasily eyed Wanda further down the line, reminding himself there was apparently a lot he didn’t know about what Bucky did or didn’t do these days.

“Nope, haven't had a chance yet. It’s just, uh,” Bucky’s eyes darted quickly to Steve, a hint of red blossoming across his cheeks, “been a good morning, I guess.”

“Happiness is a good look on you,” Pepper praised, briefly placing a hand on his cheek. Both women all but cooed when Bucky shyly whispered his thanks and stared at the floor, his cheeks now blazing a fiery red.

“Are you both joining us for breakfast?” Steve asked Maria politely.

“Sadly, no, we’re here to grab a plate to-go. We’re meeting Peter’s Aunt May later to discuss possible options for his schooling, and of course, punishment for Mr. Thompson’s heinous actions.”

Steve nodded, making further small talk with her as they slowly moved down the ridiculously long line of food, Pepper and Bucky hunched together in whispered discussion behind them.

“I’ll text you later when I have everything worked out,” he heard Pepper promise to Bucky before the two women began giving their goodbyes around the room to head back downstairs. The last thing he heard before they left was a drowsy Peter warning Maria that, “May is like the BIGGEST Pepper Potts fangirl ever, so just a heads up, there might be some crying, especially once she realizes you’re just as cool.”

The Super Soldiers cautiously made their way back to the table, arms ladened with plates and drinks for themselves and Peter, foolishly subscribing to the ‘one trip or die’ mentality. Steve grinned when he noticed the sheer amount of food Bucky strategically arranged onto Peter’s two plates; they had two plates of food, each, but Peter’s plates were organized efficiently to the point where there was easily an entire additional plate of food piled on them.

Steve was just about to ask Bucky what his hushed conversation with Pepper was about when Tony spoke first. “Okay, wait, hold up, I just can’t wrap my head around this. There’s no way the world's deadliest brainwashed assassin with dozens of government shattering kills is a Hufflepuff,” Tony passionately complained from the kitchen, pointing a spatula in their direction. “I refuse to believe he’s anything but a Slytherin.”

Peter glared at his mentor, waving his fork around in a similar manner (Steve didn’t think he was purposefully mocking Tony, but it still made him grin), almost sending a piece of bacon into his coffee. “False. The Winter Soldier went to Durmstrang, obviously. Bucky Barnes is a Hufflepuff through and through.”

“Is that… a problem?” Steve challenged, glaring at Tony across the room, his shoulders rolling back automatically.

Natasha, Clint, Bruce, and Wanda eyed the spectacle with interest but stayed silent; Bucky frowned sadly into his coffee, and Steve’s blood boiled at the thought of his friend’s good mood being squashed by Tony’s careless ramblings.

“Uh…no, if the resident Cyborg believing he’s a Hufflepuff keeps him from murdering us in our beds, I’m all for it,” Tony placidly remarked, and Steve quickly placed his glass of orange juice down on the table when he heard it crack. “I’ve gotta say, I love the matching outfits by the way, it’s all very Hallmark Christmas special. Maybe we should get some matching Avengers outfits -“

Everyone shouted a chorus of resounding “no’s,” and Tony huffed in annoyance.

Steve blocked everything out (including the sight of Wanda and Bucky huddled together, picking at their food while having an intense discussion he refused to eavesdrop on), instead focusing on the arduous process of fueling his enhanced metabolism, especially needed after his run this morning.

“Steve.” Bucky poked Steve’s arm with his metal finger. “Wanda and I have an important question.”

Wanda and Bucky were seated closely together, almost shoulder-to-shoulder despite the ample space around the table, the pair giving him very anxious looks (well…Bucky looked anxious, Wanda just seemed exasperated).

Oh f*cking hell, were they about to ask for his blessing to date? He couldn’t say no, that would make him a terrible f*cking person, but he wanted to say no.

Like… hell no.

Like, over his dead body no (and he refused to analyze his hatred of the idea at the current moment).

“Ok?”

“Wanda says there’s something called ‘Painting with a Twist' next week, where you can follow along with an instructor, and they walk a class through painting a specific picture that’s chosen ahead of time… you can drink a bit, too, that’s the ‘twist’ part. And we wanted to know if you wanted to come with us? It sounds fun, and we can wear disguises, of course.”

They were… trying to bring him on their date? Was he supposed to be a chaperone? That honestly sounded worse than the idea of Bucky and Wanda going on a date together in the first place. Or f*ck, was Bucky trying to rope him into a double date like the old days?

“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” he declined, offering them a quick, polite smile. “But thank you for the offer.”

“I want to- ow!” Clint glared at Steve after he kicked him under the table, giving the archer a small shake of his head.

As much as he hated the idea of Bucky and Wanda going out together, he didn’t want the others intruding, either. Bucky deserved to be happy, and if being with Wanda was what gave him that feeling, then, well…Steve would make that possible, even if it killed him on the inside to do so. Because Bucky deserved all the good things in the world, and this wasn’t about Steve, it was about Bucky.

“But, Steve…” And oh f*ck, there was the pout again, and Steve’s resolve slowly started crumbling. “You love painting. And Wanda can’t drink in America, but we can bring some of that Asgardian mead for us you said you had? And she’ll be there, sober, on the off chance something happens. Or, we could freak people out by drinking an entire twelve pack each since it wouldn’t do anything to us.”

“And you wouldn’t be intruding, we are inviting you,” Wanda added, her Sokovian accent thicker in the early morning hours.

“Um, thank you, but I wouldn’t want to be a third wheel. You two deserve some alone time outside of the Tower.”

Natasha snorted from further down the table, and Steve belatedly realized the entire Team was listening to their conversation, though only Peter had the decency to look away when Steve scowled disappointingly at everyone. “If anything, Wanda would be the third wheel.”

Wanda nodded at Natasha’s comment, along with everyone except Bucky who was frowning sullenly down at his plate. The witch patted his arm comfortingly, shooting Steve a scornful glare for upsetting their friend.

And her audacity was simply mind blowing - how dare she glare at him like that when she was trying to take his Bucky on a date and then force him to sit there and watch them have a good time together, all while knowing he would never be in her place?!

“Yep. Definitely the third wheel, I can’t imagine anything more awkward,” Tony snickered, refilling his coffee cup and jerking Steve out of his downward spiral. “Especially if there was drinking involved, and our Wanda dearest had to sit through all of that, sober.” Tony shuddered dramatically.

Steve lost what little patience he had left as the other Avengers laughed loudly at Tony’s remark; his open palm smacked the table loudly, the sound echoing around the room. “WILL SOMEONE EXPLAIN TO ME HOW SHE CAN BE THE THIRD WHEEL ON HER OWN f*ckING DATE?!”

f*ck, he absolutely did not mean to say that out loud, damnit. (He discreetly nudged his plate to the side to cover the dent he accidentally created in the table.)

After a moment of stunned silence, chaos erupted around him; Peter startled so badly at the deafening sound (or Steve’s comment, he wasn’t too sure on that part) that he began choking on a piece of food, accidentally jostling Clint with his elbow in the process, causing the archer to spill his (thankfully) iced coffee on Natasha. The redhead barely reacted to the coffee dripping down her front, her and Wanda too busy cackling in an eerily similar way. Bruce stared off into the distance, brows furrowed as if trying to solve a complicated riddle. Tony, who had just gotten up to go to the kitchen for another cronut, tripped over his own feet and sent his plate crashing onto the floor where the dish shattered into several pieces, the racket barely heard over the rest of the commotion.

And Bucky…Bucky gaped at Steve, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly, unable to make a sound. Steve felt like curling up and dying at the Team’s reaction… had Vision and himself read everything so incorrectly?

“HEY, room full of heroes?!!” Tony yelled over everyone when he finally stood up, waving his hands in the air to get their attention. “Can someone save Peter, please? There’s no dying allowed at the breakfast table, it’s a house rule, and I kind of promised his Aunt he would be in good hands here, but he’s turning an alarming shade of red, so someone needs to do something, like, now.”

Clint paused his efforts to help a still-cackling Natasha wipe up the spilled coffee on her shirt and pounded Peter harshly on the back, an action that did nothing but shove Peter closer to the table.

Wanda delicately waved her left hand, and the piece of food lodged in Peter’s throat slid down the correct way, allowing Peter to gasp for some much needed air - Steve pushed his water cup over as a silent apology.

“Where did you get such an idea, Steve?” Wanda chuckled bewilderedly, reaching a thin finger out to push Bucky’s still open jaw closed.

Steve, feeling hot all over, wasn’t surprised to see his hand was flushed red, his face likely ten times worse. “Um…a few reasons,” he dodged, not really wanting to throw Vision under the proverbial bus.

“Well, I can assure you, James and I are not dating, and we never will,” Wanda promised before calmly returning to her food.

Steve, personally, found such a statement to be unnecessarily harsh and was about to defend his friend when Bucky spoke over him. “She’s literally like my little sister, Steve. How long have you been thinking that, and why didn’t you say anything to me?”

The blonde sank down into his seat, too embarrassed and ashamed to look at anyone else, much less Bucky who looked disappointed in him.

He sent a silent apology to Vision; it wasn’t Steve’s fault the Avenger wasn’t here to defend himself, and honestly, he was the reason Steve was in this mess in the first place. “Umm, the other day, Vision stopped me in the elevator and said he’d seen you two on Wanda’s bed, leaning into each other like you were about to kiss, and your eyes were closed and her hand was on your chin. And he said you basically fled when he came in, and both of you looked unexplainably flushed.”

Tony tilted his head, considering. “Hmm… okay I can see where that would be suspicious.”

Bruce hummed in agreement.

“And you spend a lot of time alone together,” Steve couldn’t help himself from pettily adding.

“That is true, too,” Tony added, tapping his chin pensively; Steve appreciated the man’s show of support, even if he didn’t believe Steve’s claim one bit.

“They’re the only ones at the Tower when we’re out, who else would they hang out with?” Clint placated, holding his hands up. “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for this.”

Clint glared at Bucky, daring him to contradict; it was well known that Clint had all but adopted Wanda when she joined the Team after Sokovia, and he was very protective of her.

“I wanted to be a celebrity or movie makeup artist when I was younger. James has the perfect face to practice on, and I was just trying to get an idea of what I would need to do for my first look,” Wanda languidly shrugged, Bucky nodding quickly next to her.

Tony’s eyes narrowed at the flimsy excuse, and Steve felt vindicated - he wasn’t paranoid or delusional at all!

“And assessing someone’s face before putting makeup on them makes you flustered?” Tony interrogated, leaning forward and resting his steepled fingers on the table.

“You know,” Natasha began before Wanda could respond, her voice slightly raised to catch everyone’s attention. “It’s a pity we can’t put Barnes on social media - he really does have the ideal aesthetic facial structure to be an Instagram model.”

She subtly elbowed Clint in the side. “Totally agree, my man, and the body, too. Like instead of Hot Felon, you could be Hot Assassin.”

“Um, thanks?” Bucky responded, his eyes firmly on his plate. The former-assassin tucked a section of hair behind his ear, and Steve noticed the tips of his ears turning red at the compliments.

“His jaw could cut glass,” Peter cheerfully added, fully recovered from the choking incident. “And look at his skin! He’s glowing this early in the morning while the rest of us look half dead.”

“And don’t forget the piercing gray eyes and perfectly symmetrical eyebrows,” Wanda offhandedly supplied, using her magic to butter a slice of toast.

“The full lips, too,” Natasha continued smoothly, much to Steve’s increasing confusion… didn’t she hate Bucky? “And of course, guys with longer hair are more popular these days, and Barnes has some gorgeous locks on him… Wanda really did an amazing job on his hair.” She stared innocently at Steve down the length of the table. “Don’t you agree with us, Steve? That Barnes would make a good model?”

Steve, his face and chest hot with humiliation from the entire situation, found himself unable to think clearly. “Uh… I mean, um…maybe?”

Wanda and Peter bristled, offended on Bucky’s behalf, while Natasha, Clint, Tony, and Bruce suffered from a mix of exasperation and secondhand embarrassment.

“You used to draw me all the time, remember?” Bucky snorted weakly, his lips forming a half-hearted smile. “Said I was your favorite subject. Guess I’m not as much to look at anymore, compared to back then.”

“Why did I think Team breakfast would be a good idea?” Tony muttered under his breath. “Not my finest moment, I gotta say.”

Steve flailed, mortified by Bucky’s words. “NO! You’re not -”

His friend reared back as if he’d been slapped, and Steve belatedly recognized his terrible wording.

“Bucky, you’re still very handsome, I didn’t mean to offend you,” Steve sincerely apologized. He tried to reach out to grab Bucky’s hand, but the Super Soldier yanked his arm back before he could and dropped it into his lap, far away from Steve’s reach.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Bucky dejectedly responded, his eyes downcast. “I know how much I’ve changed since the war, and this,” he lifted his metal arm in the air without looking up, “isn’t nice to look at.”

“I resent that,” Tony complained peevishly. “It’s much sleeker than the original, I did an amazing job.”

Steve panicked, words rushing as he tried to mend his horrific gaffe. “Bucky, please listen to me. You are beyond stunning, and you always have been. Do you remember that time we went to your posh cousin’s wedding, right before the war? And you wore that expensive suit and fussed over your hair for an hour? I swear, when I first saw you enter the church, all I could think was that the bride was gonna kick us out because you completely outshined her, and everyone could tell.”

Steve paused, taking a deep breath now that Bucky appeared to be listening. “And the other week after you read that book series centered around Greek mythology, you asked me which deity I thought would be your parent if we were demigods. I said I didn’t know, but that was a lie; you would be a child of Aphrodite, and she would sit on her throne on Olympus and weep, knowing there’s someone that exists who’s infinitely more beautiful than her.

Clint gave a low appreciative whistle while Peter peered around nervously. “Let’s not get smited, please.”

“Your arm and your scars don't subtract from your allure. I’m sorry you went through all of that, but they’re a part of you now, which makes them beautiful, same as you.” He swallowed, nervously. “I… I wish one day you could see yourself the way I see you. You’re breathtaking, always have been, and while I can’t predict the future, I’d wager you always will be.”

“Wow,” Tony spoke first, his tone awestruck. “I need Captain America writing all my apology speeches.”

“That was beautiful, Steve, very well spoken,” Bruce complimented, giving both Steve and Bucky a small genuine smile.

“Hallmark ain’t got sh*t on Cap,” Clint added, his tone admiring, Natasha nodding next to him.

Wanda passed Peter a napkin, the youngest blotting his eyes and staunchly avoiding eye contact with anyone.

Red blossomed across Bucky’s cheeks, and he tried to use his hair to shield his burning face from view. “Um, thank you, Steve.” Bucky gave the blonde a shy, self-conscious smile. “That was the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“I’m sorry for not saying it before.” Steve tentatively reached his hand across the table, palm up, and was relieved when Bucky entwined their fingers together. “You deserve to hear it.”

[LittleRedWitch]: Nat, why did clint just tell me you were in the medical wing after sparring with james?

[SpyDarLing]: It’s a funny story tbh ʕ⁀ᴥ⁀ʔ

[LittleRedWitch]: Natasha, i told you training with him didn’t seem like a good idea

[LittleRedWitch]: how bad is it (ᵕ﹏ᵕ)

[SpyDarLing]: I’m fine… Bruce is being fussy and wants to run tests after I accidentally got some of Barnes’s blood in my mouth. Wants to make sure none of his cooties were passed to me

[LittleRedWitch]: Please tell me you didn’t

[SpyDarLing]: ok i didn’t

[LittleRedWitch]: (ㆆ～ㆆ)

[SpyDarLing]: it turns out Barnes only goes lax during a fight if he gets bitten by Steve

[SpyDarLing]: and when other people do it, he just gets hella ragey

[SpyDarLing]: who knew? ¯\(º_o)/¯

[LittleRedWitch]: literally everyone could have figured that out (ó﹏ò｡)

Bucky and past-Bucky were fully absorbed in the fourth installment of the Harry Potter series during the early morning hours, swathed in a mound of blankets after having awoken from a nightmare an hour ago (Winter was sitting on the nightstand, staring vacantly at the street below). The last few days had been a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, and Bucky’s brain wasn’t having a great time processing any of it; he couldn’t even begin to think of Steve’s impassioned speech on his ‘beauty’ without breaking into a cold sweat. He was pleased to have gotten at least three hours of rest, an amount significantly better than his first few weeks in the Tower where he wouldn’t sleep for multiple days in a row.

To Winter’s relief, he’d beaten the Widow in a sparring match that afternoon (they didn’t begin until Steve had left for some charity thing because they weren’t stupid). The woman had the audacity to bite him in the middle of the fight, the barbaric action sending him into a fit of rage that assured his victory (and her a trip to the Medical wing, which… deserved).

‘Still can’t believe she bit you,’ past-Bucky said after picking up on Bucky’s distracted thoughts.

‘I told you,’ Winter insisted, shaking his head. ‘She’s disgusting…do you still think I’m prissy for thinking so?’

‘Yes,’ past-Bucky countered, but his tone was light.

Bucky smiled softly, shaking his head as Winter opened his mouth to respond.

The current calmness of the morning was shattered by a piercing scream from Steve’s bedroom down the hall.

“BUCKY!!!” Steve cried, Bucky’s heart pounding in response to the terrified scream, icy fear shooting through his veins.

He scrambled out of his bed, grabbed a loaded handgun from behind his nightstand, and slipped the sheathed blade from the top of his door frame into his bun, the elastic hair tie keeping it firmly in place. Slinking down the hall with his past-selves anxiously shadowing him, he listened for any identifiable sounds, but to his frustration, he couldn’t hear anything besides Steve’s heavy breathing.

Resisting the urge to throw the door open and cause a commotion in case there actually was an intruder, Bucky crept silently into Steve’s room, muscles coiled and ready to spring, his gray eyes darting around the darkened space to find the source of Steve’s distress.

‘All clear,’ Winter reported, before him and past-Bucky blinked out of existence.

Bucky relaxed minutely at the words.

Hunched over in the center of the bed, clad in sweatpants and a tank top that strained against his heaving chest, Steve’s shoulders shook as he gasped for air, his hands clutching the sheets like a lifeline.

“Steve?” Bucky whispered, trying not to further frighten the man who hadn’t appeared to see or hear him come in.

Still, Steve flinched, posture straightening and readying to strike, but he relaxed once he realized it was Bucky.

“Nightmare?” Bucky questioned, already knowing the answer.

He inched closer, wanting to offer some type of comfort but also afraid he’d overstep. Past-Bucky comforted the smaller Steve frequently after nightmares growing up, but present day Steve seemed to prefer to shoulder his own burdens by himself (at least until Bucky managed to bulldoze his way through Steve’s barriers).

“Yeah,” Steve mumbled, but his eyes were focused further across the room. “Same one I’ve had, for… well, for a long time. Since the war.”

“Oh,” Bucky frowned, unsure what to do in this situation - it was usually him who accidentally woke Steve up after a nightmare, not the other way around.

He tried to recall what Steve would do if the situation were reversed, but the blonde’s unwavering attention towards the far end of the room and the concentrated frown on his face struck an uneasy cord in Bucky, preventing him from being able to focus on any of his previous memories over the last few months.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bucky prodded, gently placing the gun on the nightstand after clicking the safety back on. He carefully sat on the edge of the bed, ready to bolt the instant Steve indicated his presence was unwelcome.

Steve glanced over at Bucky, eyes raking over his rigid form, and Bucky belatedly realized he was shirtless and wearing only a pair of light blue pajama shorts that were probably a little too short to be considered decent for modern men (but they were cute as f*ck with glittering clouds, and Bucky had to buy them even though they were a size smaller than he’d normally wear). He awkwardly crossed his ankles together on the floor, resting his arms on his thighs in a flimsy attempt to cover his mostly bare legs.

“It was, um…” Steve stammered, and Bucky slowly reached over and wrapped his right arm around his friend’s shaking shoulders. “You fell off the train, and I tried to catch you, but you slipped from my hands. And then, since last year, my mind takes it further and imagines you laying there for days freezing in the snow, unable to move but calling out for me. But Hydra finds you instead, and it always ends with them dragging you off by your mangled left arm.”

Past-Bucky made an achingly pained sound in the back of his head but said nothing.

Winter sighed. ‘That isn’t how it happened either.’

(Bucky refused to ask for further details, and none were volunteered).

Bucky frowned, unsure how to respond to something that must have been so horrible for Steve to see all the time. “Oh, f*ck, umm. I’m sorry you have to experience that over and over again, but that’s not what happened at all. And you know it’s not your fault, and I don’t blame you for not going to look for me, right?”

“Sure,” Steve unconvincingly nodded, offering Bucky a quick, fake smile. “Of course.”

“Steve, no one could fathom in their wildest dreams I’d survive something like that,” he said sternly.

Steve’s eyes darted to the corner again, and Bucky realized he was fixated on the air vent at the top of the wall.

“Anything else bothering you?” he prompted, making a mental note to remind Steve frequently it wasn’t his fault for what happened to him after the train incident, because Bucky had a sneaking suspicion Steve heavily blamed himself.

“It’s silly,” Steve shifted, embarrassed, but it brought his body closer to Bucky’s.

“It’s not silly if it freaked you out this bad,” Bucky retorted, tone clipped.

‘Honestly, this guy,’ he scoffed to Winter and past-Bucky.

‘Steve’s always been kind of insecure about certain things, doesn’t want to be a bother or be seen as weak,’ past-Bucky shrugged. ‘Gotta power through it, future-self.’

“When I woke up, I swear there were glowing eyes from up there,” he explained, co*cking his head in the direction of the vent. “And I thought I heard something, too, but I haven’t been able to see or hear anything else…I think it was something leftover from my dreams, nothing to worry about.”

“I’m sure it’s just the Widow seeking retaliation for earlier,” Bucky began, but his eyes narrowed towards the vent as he expanded his senses, “but she got the wrong room because she’s a piss-poor inferior counterfeit version of the ultimate apex predator… moi.”

‘Excellent description,’ Winter applauded. ‘Couldn’t have said it better myself.’

Steve blinked owlishly at him. “Um… wow, okay… uh, Friday? Can you tell us where Natasha is, please?”

“Agent Romanoff is currently asleep in Agent Barton’s apartment,” Friday succinctly reported. “My alarm systems have not detected a threat anywhere within the Tower, either.”

Steve nodded as if this was the response he was expecting, but Bucky blanched at the news, his fingers itching towards the gun on the wooden nightstand next to them. (Bucky acknowledged that was not the acceptable response in this situation, but it should be, because, how dare she treat Steve in such a way?!)

‘You were right to call her a floozy,’ past-Bucky hissed.

‘Maybe now he’ll let us eliminate her?’ Winter asked hopefully.

“Stevie, pal, I’m so sorry,” he apologized, biting his lip and looking down at his lap. “I know I don’t really get on with her, and I don’t know how serious you two were, but… I can be in and out of their room in a heartbeat, one bullet each right to the head. You don’t deserve any of this, I can’t understand how she could do something like that to you, especially since you both live in the same building and fight on the same Team...let me fix it for you, please.”

Steve gaped at him, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he next spoke. “Why...why would I be upset that she’s asleep with her boyfriend?”

Bucky’s heart stopped. Literally, stopped, and then came roaring back to life. “Her what?”

“Her boyfriend. Clint,” Steve said slowly, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. “I swore I told you this before.”

‘This is definitely news,’ Winter heatedly disagreed.

‘He didn’t say a f*ckin’ word,’ past-Bucky angrily confirmed. ‘I scanned all our memories, and he definitely never mentioned she was dating Clint, didn’t even allude to it once.’

“Soo…” Bucky paused, trying to remember how the phrase went. “They have an open relationship?”

“I mean, I guess?” Steve shrugged. “They’re more open with each other than anyone else, I’m sure. But not sure how much that is since they’re highly trained spies, and Natasha doesn’t really talk to me about her dating woes.”

Bucky didn’t have the heart to correct him about his misunderstanding of the term ‘open relationship’, but before he could respond with something else, Steve’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Wait, what would she be seeking retaliation for?”

‘Oh sh*t,’ he shrieked at his former-selves. ‘Help! He can’t know about our sparring session, he’ll have a conniption, especially considering how it ended.’

‘You’re so dumb, it’s mind blowing… besides, Steve should know how you landed her in the Medical wing. It’s vital he realizes he’s massively under-protected without us around,’ Winter scoffed, offering no further remarks or anything f*cking useful.

‘Winter, don’t be mean to him!’ past-Bucky scolded. ‘Future-self, just mention the parking garage incident. That fits the description.’

Bucky thanked his only helpful former-self and met Steve’s dubious gaze with confidence. “Did you forget the parking garage debacle already?” Bucky waited for Steve’s apologetic expression, and when it came, he quickly changed the subject. “Well, let me check the vent for monsters so you can go back to sleep.”

He started to get up, but Steve placed a halting hand on the top of his thigh, Bucky instantly freezing at the unfamiliar sensation; sure, Steve had touched his leg before, but never his bare leg (at least not since they were kids horsing around), and Bucky’s mind blocked out everything but the sensation of Steve’s warm hand in a somewhat intimate spot.

“You don’t need to, I’m sure my mind was just playing tricks on me.” Steve removed his hand from Bucky’s bare skin (much to his disappointment), but then suddenly it was back.

Pat, pat, pat .

Bucky assumed Steve meant it to be reassuring, telling Bucky he was fine, totally fine, but Bucky found it distracting instead.

“Umm.” Bucky’s breath hitched when the hand came to a stop, slightly higher up his leg than before and more towards his inner thigh rather than the top portion. And then the hand squeezed, and Steve’s smile was so very fake, and his shoulders were still very tense. But Bucky couldn’t breathe, because there was Steve’s hand… on his inner thigh… on skin, bare skin, and if Bucky rotated his leg just a little bit out, the hand might slide even lower, and maybe he should -

‘Focus, Soldier. Remember the mission - protect Steve Rogers. Do your duty; mission failure is unacceptable.’

Bucky flinched at the reminder, and Steve glanced down, noticed where his hand was, and jerked his limb back as if he’d been burned.

And maybe he had been considering Bucky certainly felt like his skin was an inferno.

“I’d uh, sleep better if I checked it out first.”

Steve clenched his jaw, but for once, didn’t argue.

Bucky reached under the bed frame and grabbed the rifle he stashed there, grateful this one had a night vision scope.

“My bed, really?” Steve sighed resignedly, and Bucky just shrugged, unapologetic.

Like, seriously, did he not realize Bucky had weapons stashed everywhere in this building?

‘So naïve,’ past-Bucky giggled fondly.

‘Naiveness is a dangerous flaw!’ Winter hissed, and Bucky sighed internally as the two began to squabble in the back of his thoughts.

Bucky stood up from the bed and discreetly adjusted his shorts since they’d ridden up a bit when he sat down earlier. He hopped onto the nightstand, easily avoiding stepping on his handgun, arranged the rifle comfortably on his shoulder and peered through the scope.

If there was anything in the vent, it had retreated farther back, and Bucky couldn’t see it from his current angle.

“Gonna have to take the grate off,” Bucky announced, lowering his rifle and gracefully dropping down to the floor in front of the nightstand.

“No, seriously, I’m sure I just made it all up, please just leave it, Buck,” Steve pleaded, standing up to block Bucky from moving towards the other side of the room.

The problem, for Bucky at least, was this; the backs of Bucky’s legs were maybe two inches from the nightstand, and Steve was standing practically toe to toe with him. Bucky had nowhere to move, nowhere to go, and couldn’t escape the closeness without making the situation weird.

And then to make it worse, he noticed Steve was chewing worriedly on his bottom lip, and then his tongue would poke out to slowly wet the area, and then he was chewing on it again, and Bucky was stuck in this f*cking cycle, unable to tear his gaze away, while Steve stared at him, silent and unmoving.

‘He’s doing it on purpose, you can see that mischievous glint in his eye,’ past-Bucky warned. ‘You did the same thing the other day, he picked it up from you because it f*cking works.’

‘God damnit, what do I do?!’

‘FOCUS ON THE MISSION.’

‘Stop yelling at me, Winter,’ he whined. ‘I’m sensitive, and you aren’t helping.’

“Please?” Steve eventually asked, taking an impossible step closer. He reached his right hand out to lightly place it on Bucky’s hip, his thumb dipping down to trace back and forth along the top of Bucky’s exposed v-line. The touch was almost ghostlike, and f*ck, why was this happening to him? “We can take a nap in your room, yeah? Your bed is more comfortable than mine since you built that little nest of yours.”

“Okay,” Bucky agreed, unable to look away from Steve’s hypnotizing gaze.

‘Um no?! Not okay! Get your ass to that vent, Soldier,’ Winter aggressively shrieked.

Steve’s smile for the first time that night was sincere, and Bucky was entranced by it, by how young and carefree it made Steve look. He only noticed his rifle was gone because Steve had gently dropped it onto the ground, the ‘thump’ causing Bucky to wince and then pout at the treatment of his baby.

“Sorry,” Steve said, not sounding all that sorry at all.

But then, Steve was spreading his fingers out slightly, and his touch went from barely there to most definitely there, and he was squeezing Bucky’s bare hip and pulling him closer to the point that they were chest to chest, bare skin on practically bare skin (considering how thin Steve’s tank top was).

Steve brought his left hand up to Bucky’s cheek, and his face was inching slower, and holy f*cking sh*t was this happening? Bucky had to be dreaming, holy f*ck, his heart was going to explode out of his chest, he was sure of it. “Buck, you’re so -“

And because the universe hates him, Bucky never heard what he was because a sudden, grating metallic sound was coming from the vent, and they both startled so badly it was a miracle they didn’t bash their heads together.

“What the f*ck -“

“Get down,” Bucky ordered, kicking out to sweep Steve’s legs out from under him, knowing the stubborn man wouldn’t have listened to him anyways.

Steve landed flat on his back with an ‘oof’, and Bucky swiped his handgun off the nightstand and stepped purposefully onto the bed, his metal arm ready to block an attack and his gun poised to end one.

Bucky leapt from the bed onto the dresser, landing noiselessly, and crept closer to the air vent, his senses still unable to determine the cause of the sound.

“Wait, let me cover you before you open it,” Steve begged, scrambling into a seated position. “Do you want a holster for your gun so it’s still on you when you climb up?”

“Fine, hurry up. And sure, if you have a thigh one, that would work,” Bucky agreed, surprised when Steve confirmed he did have one.

“Ya know, this would be easier if I could stick to the wall,” Bucky commented dryly, eyeing the grate another few feet above his head.

‘This would be easier if you two would stop f*cking talking and get on with it,’ Winter grumbled.

Past-Bucky snorted. ‘Relax, I’m sure it’s just a rat or something. New York is famous for having giant ones.’

“We can go get Peter,” Steve suggested eagerly, finally standing up.

“Steve. Seriously? No.” Bucky rolled his eyes, exasperated by the very notion that such a statement was uttered by the great Captain America.

“It could be dangerous!” Steve whined, reaching for his shield leaning on the side of the nightstand.

“Exactly! So, Peter will be staying far away. For some strange reason, you seem to forget that I am more dangerous,” Bucky complained, glaring down at his friend who was rifling through his dresser for the holster.

“I am more dangerous,” Steve mocked under his breath, making a triumphant sound when he found the aforementioned holster. “Oh, uh, I guess it’ll be easier if I put it on for you, if that’s okay? You gotta step into it, though”

Bucky could see Steve’s pink cheeks even in the darkened room, and he was sure his were similarly tinged. “Sure, left leg, please.”

His body was still unused to the sensation of Steve’s large hands on his bare legs, but something strange caught his eye. “Steve… why is there lace on this? Is this lingerie?”

“Natasha bought it for me as a joke,” Steve explained, his face tilted down so Bucky couldn’t see his expression. He fumbled a bit trying to pull it up, but after taking a deep breath, he secured it in place and tucked Bucky’s gun into it.

“Are we ready now?” Bucky questioned, trying to mentally skip over how Steve’s hands were just on his bare legs, strapping a gun to his body, with a piece of lingerie.

He needed to focus, but damn it was difficult.

Without waiting for a response, he ripped the grate off with his metal hand which only made a soft, almost nonexistent sound as he flung it onto the carpet because he was a professional.

He slowly lifted himself up with his right arm to peer into the vent, his metal hand placed in front of him, ready to block any attack. Steve was positioned behind him on the ground, shield at the ready in case something came out into the room.

Bucky stared into the vent, his eyes quickly getting used to the pitch black interior. He flinched internally upon seeing glowing eyes a few feet into the depths of the vent, the animal slowly creeping closer.

Past-Bucky let out a stunned whistle. ‘That’s one big ass rat.’

The creature made a curious noise, and Bucky almost lost his grip on the edge of the vent.

“Oh ,” he cried, instantly recognizing the sound, but not being able to believe what his senses were telling him. “Steve, get on the dresser, leave the shield.”

“Uh, okay. What is it?” Steve questioned, climbing onto the dresser a lot less gracefully than Bucky had.

“My son.”

“Excuse me?!” Steve screeched, almost falling off the dresser but catching himself just before he could fall.

“Come on big guy,” Bucky cooed into the vent, tapping his metal fingers lightly in front of him to encourage the animal to come closer. “Come to Papa, he missed you so much, my precious. Did you bring my grandbabies with you?”

“What the f*ck ,” Steve hissed under his breath. “What. The. f*ck.”

Grant finally rubbed his face on Bucky’s outstretched hand, and Bucky almost sobbed in relief. “Let’s get you out of this, come here my sweet baby.”

Maneuvering the cat into his left arm, he was able to see three more sets of tiny glowing eyes peering back at him. “I’ll be right back, angels,” he promised lovingly.

Dropping smoothly back onto the dresser, Bucky turned proudly to his friend, the cat perched regally on his metal arm like the majestic being he was.

“That’s,” Steve blinked, “a… cat?”

“This is my son,” Bucky corrected firmly, scowling at the blonde for his disrespect.

“Your son… is a cat?”

“Yes. This is my son, Grant. Who happens to be a cat, but it doesn’t make him any less my child.”

“I see,” Steve nodded, who very clearly did not see.

“Here,” Bucky said, holding Grant out to Steve, the man standing there open-mouthed while he tried to process the unexpected situation. “This is the part where you take him for a moment, so I can get my grandbabies.”

“I.. I don’t?” Steve stammered, backing away from the cat. “I can’t?”

“Hold my son, Steve,” Bucky commanded, stepping closer to a terrified Steve. “He doesn’t bite, unless you deserve it.”

“Mrow.”

Steve tentatively grabbed the gigantic cat from Bucky, holding the poor creature away from him like it was a ticking bomb, the cat's long body dangling awkwardly in the air.

“Christ, okay, give me a second, and I’ll save you from the big scary beast.” Bucky sighed before turning around to lift himself halfway back into the vent. Fortunately, the three kittens were anxious to be with their father and quickly lined themselves up on his metal arm, and when he dropped back down to the dresser, Steve thankfully had Grant tucked safely into his chest.

“Those are… kittens,” Steve stated, his brows furrowed like this was some complicated rocket science equation, his hand moving mindlessly as it stroked Grant’s silky fur.

“Yes,” Bucky nodded. “Very good, so proud of you for knowing your animals, Stevie.”

‘You broke him,’ past-Bucky cackled.

Steve frowned helplessly down at the cat in his arms. “I’m confused.”

Bucky laughed, feeling so very fond all of a sudden. “I can see, pal. Tell you what. How about we get down from here, one of us can get some food and water for them, and I’ll explain the story before your face gets stuck all confused like that.”

“I’ll do it,” Steve readily volunteered, unwilling to be left alone in a room with four unknown felines.

Steve carefully dropped back onto the floor, turning to offer Bucky a hand before he realized the other Super Soldier had already jumped down next to him, all three kittens soon wiggling from his grip and landing (somewhat) nimbly onto the messy bed. “What are we going to do for a litter box, though?”

“Oh, umm.” Bucky’s lips slipped into a pout as he weighed his options. “They’ll be okay for a few hours, and then later in the morning I’ll bring them back to uh… my friend’s.”

Steve glanced down at the hefty cat in his arms and then back up to Bucky’s face. “Absolutely not.”

Bucky winced at the harsh tone. “Oh okay, I’ll just let them get some food and water and then take them back right after -”

Grant started squirming angrily in Steve’s hold, and the surprised man let the cat go, only to smile brightly as the cat leapt delicately onto Bucky’s shoulder.

“Why do you want to take them back? They can stay here,” Steve offered, tentatively reaching a finger out to one of the kittens and tickling its chin.

“Can’t imagine Stark being okay with that,” Bucky pointed out, grinning at the adorable sight of three tiny kittens now trying to attack Captain America’s giant hand.

Steve grimaced, either from the vicious albeit tiny claws or Bucky’s words. “It’ll be fine.”

Bucky snorted at his friend's presumptuousness. “Don’t think it works that way, Steve.”

The blonde locked eyes with Bucky, his expression stubborn and unwavering. “Buck, I swear to you, you’ll keep your cat family with you no matter what, and if we have to move to Brooklyn or somewhere else to do so, then we will.”

Grant’s loud purring helped mask the sound of Bucky’s hammering heart. “Oh, umm, thank you. That means a lot to me.”

Steve shifted his feet, his eyes glued to the kittens tumbling around his bed. “Of course. And if the Avengers are suddenly going to break families apart, then, maybe it’s time for a career change.”

‘I have mixed feelings on such a claim,’ Winter noted in the back of his mind when Steve hastily left the room after his brash declaration. ‘Less missions for him means less danger overall which make our mission easier… but he can’t retire until we’ve shown how f*cking superior we are at protecting him.’

‘He’d leave the Avengers and then pick something more dangerous,’ past-Bucky sagely predicted. ‘Like motorcycle racing up icy mountains or some sh*t.’

Eventually, Steve returned to the room with a large bowl of water, two plates with shredded chicken breast, one bowl of tuna (which all four cats greatly approved of), and Bucky’s cell phone, smoothly tossing it to Bucky who snatched it out of the air reflexively.

“Thought you’d want to tell your friend,” Steve explained at Bucky's questioning look.

“Oh f*ck, thank you.”

Bucky quickly typed a message out to Caleb to tell him the cats had found their way to him, and the other man immediately messaged back a ‘holy f*ck, Winter, thank you for letting me know, I’ve been tearing this place apart thinking they found a new hiding spot’, followed by two lines of crying emojis that instantly reminded Bucky of Peter’s style of messaging…

‘Curious, very curious,’ Winter hummed, and Bucky imagined all three parts of himself were internally tapping their chin in thought.

‘You think he’s the friend who picked Peter up from school?’ past-Bucky timidly asked.

‘Part of me says that would make sense, but the other part of me says that absolutely does not make sense whatsoever.’

“What are you thinking about?” Steve asked, his arms crossed as he watched the felines devour their food from across the room.

“Just what supplies I’ll need to pick up later today,” Bucky easily lied, feeling somewhat proud when Winter applauded his ‘evasion’ skills.

Steve gently nudged the water bowl closer to the dresser when the cats were done, likely in hopes he wouldn’t accidentally trip over it later. He joined Bucky on the bed, the three kittens attempting to follow but struggling to climb up the comforter.

“We can just ask Friday, and I’m sure someone will bring us what you need.”

“I’ve already got an early morning intern getting ready to go grab a litter box, is there anything specific you would like?” Friday offered, and Bucky rattled off a few items Grant used and asked if they could find a kitten specific food in Grant’s usual brand.

“I’ll let you know when they’re back, and I’ll have everything sent right up,” Friday answered when Bucky was done.

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Why does it not surprise me that you’re a fussy cat dad?”

“Just because I provide my child with the best items money can buy,” Bucky sniffed, his nose in the air, “it does not make me fussy.”

Steve rolled his eyes and held his hands up. “Forgive me your highness.”

Grant interrupted with a sharp meow followed by a firm look to Bucky, and the Super Soldier gave the cat a quick pat before reaching down and bringing the kittens up to the bed, Grant following behind on his own.

Bucky maneuvered himself over to the other side of the bed, his back pressed against the headboard while Grant clambered onto his lap.

“You gonna take a cat nap?” Steve chuckled, slapping his knee at his own joke which caused the kittens to jump in alarm and cutely hiss before collectively deciding that Captain America made an excellent tree to climb.

“Ha, ha,” Bucky grumbled, rearranging again and laying down completely onto the bed. “I’m not tired.”

Grant smacked Bucky in the nose with his tail for dislodging him, deciding instead to sleep on his pillow and making a home for himself above Bucky’s head.

“You look like you’re wearing one of those giant fur hats,” Steve smiled softly, carefully laying down next to him after checking that it was safe to do so.

As if sharing one mind, they wordlessly shifted onto their side to face the other, the three kittens following their father’s example and curling up on Steve's pillow.

“You got your own fur hat now,” Bucky giggled quietly.

“What did you name the kittens?” Steve asked, his eyes freely roaming over Bucky’s face in the dim morning light.

Bucky bit his lip, glancing up at the three tiny felines. “Haven’t actually named them yet, my friend isn’t the most creative sometimes. We’ll have to come up with something.”

Steve’s lips quirked up. “You definitely never struggled in the imagination department.”

Bucky reached out and roughly pinched Steve’s side for the comment; he proceeded to scold him for disrupting the cats when his flinch jostled the pillow they claimed as their own. “Why does that sound insulting?”

“I didn’t mean it that way, good lord.” Steve rubbed his side, trying to ease the sting.

Bucky huffed. “Whatever you say, pal.”

He stuck his tongue out at the blonde, and then was suddenly reminded of the previous tension when Steve’s eyes lowered down to his lips. Bucky untangled his leg from the comforter and poked Steve’s leg with his foot. “Tell me a secret!” he blurted, attempting to lead his thoughts away from the precarious path they were careening towards.

“What?” Steve gulped, likely startled by Bucky’s cold foot on his leg. “I don’t have any secrets, not from the past or the present.”

‘Firmly calling bullsh*t on that,’ past-Bucky scoffed.

“I call bullsh*t,” Bucky said, echoing his former-self.

“It’s true!” Steve whined, frowning down at Bucky. “I’m an open book to you. You can tell me a secret, then, while I think of one.”

“What a cop out.” Bucky glared at his friend. “But fine, give me a sec.”

“Winter Soldier days don’t count as secrets!” Steve clarified, refusing to meet Bucky’s eye.

“Duh.”

'What do you have for me?’ he asked past-Bucky.

‘Hmmm…how bold do you want to go?’

Bucky sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, subtly eyeing his friend in the low lighting; Steve’s muscles were bulging in his tank top and the kittens formed what looked like a halo around his head… his stomach flipped when he briefly thought of just how high Steve’s hand had gone up his thigh earlier and the poetic speech he delivered at breakfast about how beautiful he thought Bucky was (though Bucky wouldn’t let those words get to his head… Steve was just being a good friend after all).

‘Bold.’

“Okay, I got one,” Bucky smirked, meeting Steve’s bright eyes full on. “Remember how I told you my first kiss was Patricia Summers when I was fifteen, but made you swear up and down that you wouldn’t tell a soul?”

Steve snorted, rolling his eyes. “You told me years later while we were perched in a f*cking tree in a middle of a war zone, but yes, I remember.”

“Well,” Bucky continued, ignoring the sass. “I lied.”

Steve arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Bucky slowly inhaled, silently letting the air out of his lungs. “My first kiss wasn't Patricia... it was her brother Patrick during some house gathering she had. It was just a long peck on the lips after we’d had a few beers, but yeah. I guess that counts?”

Steve’s jaw clenched at the confession, his expression immediately closing off.

Bucky tore his eyes away and turned onto his back to stare at the ceiling, immediately regretting his words when the silence dragged on.

‘I’m sorry,’ past-Bucky meekly apologized. ‘I didn’t think he’d care, at least not about something as small as that from years and years ago… seemed like a good confession to test the waters.’

“Is that… is that a bad secret?” Bucky whispered, his chest squeezing tightly when he couldn’t take the silence anymore. “I’m sorry. For um, lying, he was the only boy, I swear -.”

“What!” Steve gasped. “No, no, Bucky, it’s not bad and I’m not upset you didn’t tell me. I’m just… really, really confused? Wasn’t he like twenty-one when we were fifteen?”

Bucky shrugged slightly. “Something like that, think he was visiting from college.”

“Hey, can you look at me, please?” Steve pleaded. Bucky slowly rolled back onto his side, his eyes looking just above Steve’s forehead. “I promise I’m not mad you kissed a boy, and I promise I’m not mad you didn’t tell me, okay? I’m just upset cuz it sounds like he took advantage of you.”

Bucky nodded, blinking the wetness out of his eyes. “It’s fine, I get it, but I never once felt that way. But it’s your turn.”

Steve swallowed. “You have to promise you won’t get mad.”

‘I’m already mad, what the f*ck, who leads with that?’ past-Bucky hissed.

‘Do you think he’s going to admit to murder?’ Winter asked, suddenly interested in the conversation.

“I promise,” he lied, smiling tersely at his friend.

“f*ck, okay, uhhh…”

“Spit it out,” Bucky growled, leaning forward and swatting Steve’s shoulder, careful not to disturb the sleeping kittens.

“Jeez, it’s not that bad,” Steve laughed nervously. “But remember when we were thirteen, and your Pa made you go help one of his regular customers with his house renovation project every Saturday for the summer?”

‘That was the f*cking worst summer,’ past-Bucky grumbled. ‘Barely got any alone time with Steve cuz we both had to watch the girls when Ma was busy doing stuff around the neighborhood during the week. And then I had to do manual labor by myself on Saturdays with some weird old man.’

“Yes, and you hung out with my sisters at our house ‘til I got home cuz your mom always had Saturday shifts?”

“Kind of… your dad spent that summer teaching me and your sisters how to fight in the backyard, and he was the one who told me to always remember to fight to my strengths, which occasionally included biting and scratching if I needed to since I didn’t really have any actual strengths, ha ha, there you have it, the truth story of that summer break,” Steve hurriedly explained, his skin flushing crimson while he resolutely refused to look Bucky in the eye.

‘Well that was a let down,’ Winter said, breaking the ringing silence in his head. ‘Ask about murder next.’

‘So many things make sense now, holy sh*t,’ past-Bucky gasped. ‘Pa never seemed upset when I’d come home with bite marks from Steve if we got into a bad tussle, which always surprised the sh*t out of me cuz he was a real tough guy in his own day.’

Bucky raised his head up and scowled down at Steve. “My father knew, without a shadow of a doubt, how upset it made me to see you fighting all the time… so he took you out back during the summer, sent me away on some fool’s errand, had you and my sisters lie to me about it, and then attempted to teach you how to brawl against my explicit wishes to keep you away from such things?”

“Yes?” Steve winced, briefly hiding his face in his hands. “I’m sorry! It seemed like a good idea at the time, and I didn’t have a dad, so he felt bad ya know?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “You both meant well, I suppose, but good riddance, I would be bitching up a storm right now if he were still alive.”

“We don’t have to keep playing anymore,” Steve sheepishly suggested. “I feel like if we’ve kept it a secret this long, then maybe it should stay that way.”

‘Absolutely not; ask direct questions instead of volunteering stuff,’ Winter rebuffed. ‘We need answers. Like has he ever murdered someone outside of war? Say you want to know for scientific reasons.’

“Let’s ask each other questions instead,” Bucky smirked. “I go first.”

‘Murder, murder, murder,’ Winter passionately chanted.

“Have you ever hooked up with Natasha?” he asked, ignoring Winter.

‘Ooh, good one!’ past-Bucky exclaimed, and they both ignored Winter’s annoyed huff.

“No!” Steve gasped, his expression affronted. “I don’t know what gave you that idea, but we have a strictly platonic, professional relationship… and not that I was ever interested, but she’s been dating Clint since I first met her.”

“At least I didn’t assume you were dating someone who was practically a child,” Bucky shot back, remembering the breakfast discussion where Steve insinuated he was dating Wanda. “And you literally told me this morning Natasha was your first kiss since the 40’s, but okay.”

Steve cringed, and he reached a tentative hand out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Bucky’s ear. “I’m truly sorry for blurting all that out during breakfast. I should have asked you instead of assuming. And she kissed me to hide in plain sight when we were running from Shield, that’s all.”

Bucky smiled shyly at the gesture. “Can’t be too mad about the whole Wanda part, considering I thought you and Natasha had a thing going on for a while.”

“Yeah, no, she’s a good friend, but she also scares me,” Steve shivered. “Okay, my question I’m sure you can guess… where did you get the cats?”

“Well…” Bucky pressed his lips together, unsure how much he wanted to say. “After the helicarrier, I ended up befriending a guy who I somewhat remembered… he was forced into Hydra because of a family member who basically told him he was going to be the Winter Soldier’s assistant.”

“I thought the Winter Soldier worked alone?” Steve asked puzzledly. “Like once he was out and about on missions or whatever.”

Bucky waved his hand excitedly. “He does! f*ckin ridiculous, right? But obviously the kid was like sixteen when they first had him start, so he had no idea… until I showed up in America, and he saw what life was really gonna be like.”

He swallowed, his anxiety rising at the memories… it had been somewhat easier to tell the kids this story, but to tell Steve whose opinion mattered to him more than anything? Yikes.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Steve whispered, reaching out to tug the comforter up to Bucky’s waist. He scooted closer, gently tossing an arm around Bucky’s now covered middle. “You don’t have to tell me yet.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky shakily smiled. “It’s the abridged version anyways. We went out on those Hydra missions I told you about, but eventually settled in a house a handful or so blocks from here - “

Steve rapidly blinked before interrupting him. “I looked for you for a year with no luck, not even a f*ckin’ glimpse, and you were living a couple of streets over?”

“Wild, right?” Bucky nervously giggled, unable to resist inching closer to Steve’s warmth. “Anyways, so one day I’m taking the trash out, and this scraggly beast starts hissing at me from behind the dumpster, so of course I brought him inside, the poor thing, and the rest is history. Taking care of him helped me shake a bit of the remaining Winter Soldier shell, and then when I came here, it turns out he went off and started his own family.”

Steve smiled, his eyes sparkling even in the dim lighting. “I’m glad you two found a family in each other.”

“We can all be a family now, the six of us,” he murmured unthinkingly, only realizing what he said when Steve’s arm stiffened above him. “If you want! Not to make it weird...”

“You’ve always been family to me, so of course they can be included in that,” Steve assured him, running his hand soothingly over Bucky’s back. “It’s your turn for a question now, though.”

‘Ask about John Walkins!’ past-Bucky petitioned. ‘Remember, I told you about him during training?’

“Why’d you beat the sh*t out of John Walkins? It was the only fight you ever won before the serum, but you refused to tell me what he said to you.”

“It doesn’t matter, it was a lifetime ago,” Steve brusquely replied. “Anything else you’d rather ask?”

‘Well damn, even I’m curious now,’ Winter honestly remarked.

Bucky pouted, moving his head back enough so Steve could clearly see his saddened expression. “You don’t have to tell me, but I just was curious.”

Steve gritted his teeth, clearly warring with himself on whether or not he wanted to confess.

‘Do not feel guilty, future-self! You do not understand… shed a few tears or something, but I NEED to know this,’ past-Bucky urged. ‘I have waited so damn long and asked so many times, and I got f*cking nowhere.’

Fortunately, Bucky didn’t need to do anything dramatic as Steve started explaining. “He always had a problem with the two of us, not sure why. But he cornered me in an alley that day, and started spewing the most vile sh*t about you… said you were, and I quote, ‘nothing but an uppity pretty boy who all the dames liked now, but they will drop him on a dime once I tell everyone about how he’s a disgusting fa*ggot who only chases girls for a chance to get close to their brothers.’ And I said if your name ever came out of his mouth again, I’d beat him until he couldn’t remember who you were. So, then he said, ‘Bucky Barnes is a flaming hom*osexual, and I’ll make sure everyone in the neighborhood knows it.’” Steve unconsciously cracked his knuckles. “And so I kept my word.”

‘Oh… oh, holy f*ck, I can’t believe someone actually found out,’ past-Bucky whimpered in the back of his mind. ‘And then told Steve, holy f*ck, I should never have told you to ask, I thought no one ever suspected, f*ck. f*ck! I’m so stupid, I can’t believe this, I’m sorry, it should have remained in the past, and now he’s gonna be thinking about it, and start questioning a bunch of stuff, and f*ck. I’m sorry.’

Winter cut in before Bucky could reply. ‘I’ll rip this asshole’s heart out with my bare hands, how dare he speak about us with such disrespect! And to say those things to Steve? We need to find this guy, immediately.’

‘I’m sure he’s dead.’

“Bucky?”

Steve gently shook him, and Bucky offhandedly noticed he was practically hyperventilating, past-Bucky’s almost lifelong emotions bleeding through him; the shame when he first recognized he was different than other boys their age; the guilt because he could never bring himself to be truthful to Steve who deserved to know his best friend was gay; the self-hatred when he realized he would never be good enough for Steve, even on the off chance that he was attracted to men; the ever present fear of being found out during a time when such activities were not only ridiculed by the general public but also extremely illegal.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he hiccupped, flipping onto his other side so Steve couldn’t see his tears. “I expected something different I guess.”

A pained sound came from Steve’s side of the bed. “I shouldn’t have told you, I'm so sorry, Buck.” He pulled Bucky to his chest, their heads resting on the same pillow. “He was wrong about you, and he got what he deserved.”

The “was he though?” rested heavily on Bucky’s tongue, but he kept his mouth firmly shut.

“I’m tired,” Bucky fake-yawned, but made no move to leave.

“Stay, please?” Steve softly asked, and Bucky could do nothing more than nod, squeeze his eyes shut, and hope that when they wake up tomorrow, the last part of their conversation would be nothing more than a forgotten part of a nightmare.

Chapter 8: Idols, Jealousy, Loss

Chapter Text

“Has Bucky texted you back?” Peter anxiously asked Wanda the second he stepped out of the elevator into the common area.

Wanda jumped, startled by the sudden noise and looked up to see Peter frowning down at her, his own phone clenched tightly in his hand.

She searched the couch for her device, finding it wedged into a cushion. She hadn’t heard it go off, but she double checked both her messages and the time - was Peter skiving off his lessons already, or had she really been so absorbed in her book that she lost track of the day, and it was already lunch time?

“No message,” she confirmed, glancing up at the worried boy. “He didn’t text you either?”

“No,” Peter sighed, flopping down onto the empty loveseat across from her.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Wanda reassured, hoping she appeared calmer than she felt… James ‘disappearing’ for a bit wasn’t too strange to consider, but no one had seen Steve today either as far as she was aware. The lack of Captain America was perhaps the part that stressed her most; Steve wasn’t one to sequester himself in his apartment, even with James there, always popping in and out to either speak to one of the Avengers, go to meetings, or down to the gym to train, and he rarely missed his morning run.

She marked her page with her bookmark and carefully closed the book, placing it on the table; she knew Peter well enough to recognize this conversation was far from over.

Peter sighed again, this time louder. “But what if he’s not fine? It’s not like him to not respond, and it’s already noon.”

“Well… do you want to go up and check it out?” she asked, biting her lip. She’d never really dropped in on James before in the apartment he shared with Steve, always arranging something in advance (even if it was just a few minutes beforehand via text or phone call).

“Can we?” Peter questioned, his eyes wide as he turned to face her.

She shrugged. “I’m sure they are just sleeping late, but it will make both of us feel better to check for sure at this point, right?”

Peter jumped to his feet, and they quietly rode the elevator together, both too absorbed in their own thoughts to discuss what they thought they might find.

When the doors slid open, they were met with complete silence, and they shared an uneasy look; the blinds were closed, something Steve only did when darkness fell, but he always opened them in the morning when he got up for his run. There was no sign of a struggle, but something didn’t feel right to Wanda.

“I will check James’s room, you check Steve’s?” she whispered, already sending her magic out ahead of her as they walked through the living room.

Peter nodded, and they split apart when they reached the hallway; Peter going left, Wanda going right.

While both bedroom doors were open, neither could see much of the rooms from the hallway, and unless Wanda’s magic was missing something, it seemed like James’s room was empty. She tiptoed down the hall anyways, preferring to see the scene with her own eyes before drawing a definitive conclusion. Just as she reached his room, a sudden commotion had her whipping her head around, her heart rate skyrocketing as blood pounded through her veins after the unexpected noise.

“Holy sh - ahhh, don’t shoot, don’t shoot!” Peter shouted in alarm.

Wanda sprinted back down the hall, coming to a hasty stop just behind Peter who was standing a foot inside Steve’s open doorway with his hands held up to his chest, his body rigid. A red sphere of magic was already formed within her right hand, ready to be released at the cause of Peter’s distress… she paused, however, when her mind finally processed the situation; a barely-clothed James was in the bed, crouched over Steve and pointing a handgun at them, his teeth bared and muscles tensed, ready to strike. The Captain was lying on his back in the bed, wearing nothing but boxers and customary tight tank top, a pair of sweatpants on the floor near the door; he’d evidently just woken up if his excessive blinking and confused expression was anything to go by.

“Buck, hey, it’s just the kids,” Steve soothed when he figured out what was going on, and he hesitantly reached out to grab the gun from James’s fingers.

“I’m so sorry for barging in, holy sh*t, oh my god,” Peter rambled, his face flushing scarlet as he stared upwards at the ceiling; Wanda assumed, knowing Peter, the redness was due to the excessive amount of bare skin and muscles on display, not the loaded gun pointed at him. “I’m sorry, should have knocked. We will be in the living room, or throwing ourselves out of the window, or just leaving Earth completely, who knows, ok bye.”

Peter painfully grabbed Wanda’s hand, dragging her down the hall, through the living room, and into the kitchen.

“What the f*ck?!” he hissed, glancing over his shoulder to make sure they were far enough away to not be eavesdropped on. “Did you see what I saw? Holy sh*t, what the f*ck was that?”

“James pointing a gun at you?” Wanda asked while frowning down at her nails, purposefully being obtuse.

“Wanda!” Peter whined, stomping his foot. “You know what I mean.”

She sighed, because, yes, unfortunately she knew exactly what the younger boy was getting at. “I don’t think it means anything, or at least what you think it does.”

“They were practically naked!” he shrieked, struggling to keep his voice low. “Nude. In bed. Having slept in all morning. TOGETHER.”

“I know, but -”

Peter gasped out loud. “That wasn’t ink on Steve’s neck, was it?”

“Oh, my sweet summer child, no, it was not ink,” she smirked wickedly in the face of his delayed epiphany.

Wanda would admit, to herself at least, the very obvious hickey from the other night and finding the two men half naked in bed together did seem suspicious as f*ck, but she wouldn’t jump to conclusions until she heard the report from James himself.

Because Wanda knew exactly and in exceptionally vivid detail, how James Buchanan Barnes felt about one Steve Rogers.

Before James randomly appeared in the Tower, Wanda hated her powers. Sure, it was nice to be able to move things with her mind, but she loathed the telepathic part that came with her magic. She would never forgive herself for the role she played during Ultron’s quest for world destruction, and on some of her worse days, she couldn’t even look at Tony without feeling immense hatred for herself (which, yes, she found ironic since she’d made it her life mission as a child to bring him and his company down).

But when a still somewhat brainwashed James showed up and no one knew how to break his programming, she realized her ‘mind powers’ as Peter called them, might actually be able to do something useful, something good.

She first discussed it with Natasha and Clint - both thought it would be a good idea to try, especially considering they had no other alternatives at the moment. Natasha made her swear she’d never tell a soul, but the other female Avenger allowed Wanda to practice on her to get a feeling of what she would need to do when she started working with James. Wanda spent an hour or two almost every day over a month-long period immersed in Natasha’s memories, learning how mental conditioning worked (at least in the Russian woman’s case) and how Clint helped her break free from it.

Wanda did her own psychological reading on the side and waited until she was confident in her abilities before bringing it up in a Team meeting. After a lot of petitioning from the Spy Avengers (as Clint and Natasha were dubbed), Wanda was approved to attempt to break James’s conditioning with her magic (with the condition that Steve was allowed in the room with them while she worked, something she was both relieved and made uneasy by).

The entire process took longer than Wanda would ever have imagined, but she knew she shouldn’t have been surprised considering how long James had been fully brainwashed for; still, it was a delicate process, and she became exceptionally familiar with James’s memories. She always tried to downplay to the others just how much of James’s extended life she witnessed, but the one thing she immediately understood after her first day working with him was that his link to Steve was not purely platonic, at least not on James’s side, and not by a long shot.

The Avengers tend to believe her powers allowed her to view memories like one would view a film, hearing and seeing everything the person saw based on their perception of it, but that’s only a minuscule piece of the full puzzle. When she’s immersed in someone’s memories, she doesn’t JUSTsee what the other person saw, but she feels their emotions in that moment, understands their thoughts as they experienced the event, and that barrage of input is what gives her true understanding. It’s a whirlwind of information for her senses, but somehow her magic allows her to process everything efficiently (thankfully, otherwise it’d likely drive her insane).

Somewhere around the halfway point of her time in James’s memories, she had an unintentional breakthrough, accidentally slipping into a seemingly unimportant memory that would eventually allow her to unravel his entire programming.

It started at a bar during the night the Howling Commandos were recruited to join Steve in his mission against Hydra.

Bucky had arrived an hour before Steve, silently struggling with the changes his body was going through after his time on Zola’s table; his eyesight was slowly improving, he could hear things from further away than he should be able to, his memory was significantly better, and the wounds he incurred while captured were impossibly healed. He thought he was going crazy or would eventually die from the changes he was suddenly experiencing, and he was equally terrified of each possibility.

He conflictingly watched as Steve strode confidently into the bar, a different Steve than he remembered from back home. This was the great Captain America - tall, strong, proud, and capable, a Super Soldier among regular men. But Bucky believed his real friend was still in there somewhere, simply encased within that new, mind-blowingly stronger and healthier body.

By most people’s standards, his friend before the serum was short, weak, sickly, insecure, and incapable. Bucky, though, never once saw Steve like most people did; no, Steve was a paragon of goodness, the ideal partner in Bucky’s eyes (if only he’d stop picking fights with others, good lord). Steve Rogers was brilliant, sassy, courageous, virtuous, resilient, and breathtakingly beautiful, both inside and out, and Bucky loved him more than anything.

Was in love with him.

By the time Steve crossed the bar to reach Bucky’s table, he’d convinced himself to finally admit to his friend what happened to him during captivity… and then he’d confess his feelings, his true, very real, very non-platonic feelings… perhaps not there in the bar where they could be overheard, but within the confines of the room they’d been assigned during their time in England. If he was going to die, then he was going to die with a clear conscience, unable to accept the idea of Steve not knowing everything.

Or hell, maybe Steve could help him since he’d likely experienced some similar changes with the serum he received. He didn’t know what he hoped to gain with the confession, per se, but he knew it was undoubtedly time for him to fess up. Bucky couldn’t go on any longer keeping these secrets to himself, and he simply refused to take them to the grave - Steve deserved better than that.

Before he could suggest they head back to the room, Agent Carter walked into the bar in her stunning red dress and wowed the entire establishment into silence, Steve and himself included; Steve because of Carter herself, and Bucky because of the way Steve’s entire stance changed when he noticed her.

Bucky understood in that moment with undiluted certainty that Steve would never gaze at him with such adoration in his eyes, would never appear so enraptured by his mere presence, would never look at him like he was the only thing that mattered in the world; the feelings Bucky had chosen to carry silently for over a decade would never be reciprocated and would only ruin their friendship.

And the pain of that knowledge was crippling, squeezing his insides and burning them to ashes at the same time; it made Bucky hurt, more than anything he’d ever experienced before that, including Zola’s insane experiments and the time his Ma accidentally ran his foot over when he was a kid. He felt hollow and hopeless, the shame rushing through him almost suffocating; how could he ever have believed he would be good enough for Steve Rogers? He was revolting and pathetic, weak and useless. Steve no longer needed him now and soon would leave him for a beautiful woman like Carter once the war was over… revealing his feelings now would do nothing but burden and disgust the one man he always prayed would view him favorably.

Bucky wanted to flee, to accept the Honorable Discharge he’d been offered for what he suffered during his capture and escape this hellhole he found himself in. Almost every fiber of his being was screaming at him to run away, but his pride wouldn’t allow him; he couldn’t abandon Steve when he needed him most, not if this would be the last time he ever needed Bucky.

Bucky would reign his feelings in, he had to; he would spend the night patching himself back together on the inside, bandaging and sewing closed his ripped, bleeding heart until it appeared as whole as possible given the circ*mstances.

And in the morning, it’d be like nothing ever happened, like everything was still okay, like Bucky’s world hadn’t just shattered and collapsed around him, like the permanent ache in his chest didn't exist.

He could do this, he could be what Steve needed.

And if this was the end of the line for him, then so be it; Bucky would die content, knowing his friendship was still worth something in Steve’s eyes.

Besides, if he actually ended up dying (which seemed increasingly more likely by the minute), he wouldn’t have to return to America and endure a life where he’d watch his friend happily marry and have kids with a woman, forever tortured by the knowledge that Steve would never love him the same way he loved Steve.

“Oh, James,” Wanda had eventually whispered after the memory ended, tears pouring uncontrollably from her eyes.

That day had been the first time he’d shown any intense emotion since arriving at the Tower, at least around someone who wasn’t Steve - when she first broke free from the memory, his teeth had been clenched, his lip wobbling as he forced the feelings back down. When he glanced up and saw her tear stained face, he’d sniffed… but when she spoke, the floodgates suddenly opened and he was sobbing, gasping for breath, and trying to hide his face from their view.

Steve, naturally, panicked, and tried to pull his friend into an embrace, but the raw, aching emotions from that memory had James shoving the other man away; by some miracle, he allowed Wanda to eventually pull him into a hug, and they cried brokenly together while Steve fretted uselessly in the background.

That emotional breakdown would allow her to find the memories she needed to crack his programming over the next two weeks, using a multifaceted approach of completely removing parts of some memories while altering others so the trigger words no longer held power over him (she assumed the breakthrough was because the night at the the bar was the last strong emotion he felt before falling off the train and reliving that moment had allowed her to uncover and then jump to the next intense emotion he felt, which had been when he’d woken up on Zola’s operating table after being found in the snow).

Wanda would see, feel, and practically experience some truly horrible, awful things during her time in James’s memories, but none of it would ever compare to the emotional pain from that night at the bar. She would never forget the sheer amount of anguish James felt watching Steve and Agent Carter together, so all these unexplained moments between him and Steve lately were making her uneasy; she genuinely had no idea where Steve stood in regards to James (she had theories of course, but no definitive proof from the man himself), and she would absolutely do everything in her power to make sure James never felt such an emotional upheaval again.

Peter’s words jolted her from her reminiscing.

“I am so shook right now, look at my hand shaking -”

“Hey,” James mumbled, joining them in the kitchen, his hunched posture and facial expression screaming distress and sorrow. His eyes were focused on the floor, and his dark hair hung limply in his face, almost like a shield. James’s prominent pout made Wanda want to coo at how cute he was despite the fact he was only clad in a pair of tiny pajama shorts that reached just above his mid thigh and showed off his insanely fit physique (how someone built like a Greek god could look so adorable would always be a mystery to her). “I’m… I’m really sorry, Peter, I promise, I never would have hurt you, I swear, I’m so sorry I scared you.”

Peter squinted at the man, clearly confused by the apology. “Well, duh, I know you wouldn’t have hurt me. Besides, I can defend myself.”

James’s head jerked up. “But…I heard you say…”

Wanda laughed internally as Peter blinked wordlessly at their friend, his mouth opening and closing like a fish while he struggled to find the words he was looking for.

Eventually, Peter waved his hand up and down at James’s body, muttering, “Dude. And also…” He pointed towards Steve’s room, and then waved his hand again. “Duuuude.” He then did some impressive eyebrow wiggling and a few terrifying winks, before staring unblinkingly at James, hoping the former-assassin could translate his pitiful attempts at telepathy.

James’s eyes widened (eventually), looking like they were about to pop out of his head. “NO! Oh my god, NO, PETER -”

Steve, thankfully now properly clothed, came stumbling into the living room after hearing the commotion. “Is everything okay?! I heard shouting.”

Wanda couldn’t help it - she broke into a fit of giggles, James and Peter both looking like deer in headlights staring at Steve.

“Everything is awesome! So great, man, totally fantastic. Can’t complain, you know?” Peter blabbered, running a hand through his hair while shooting pleading looks at Wanda.

Steve, though, hardly noticed the teen’s awkwardness, too busy staring wide-eyed at James who had yet to get dressed or move to cover himself.

“Umm…”

Steve twisted around and headed towards their hall closet, reappearing moments later and wordlessly bundling James into a blue Snuggie (Wanda amusedly wondered how many of these the two Super Soldier's owned, because she'd seen at least four different ones at this point), lifting the hood up so only his face was visible. “There we go.”

Peter shot Wanda another ‘what-the-f*ck’ look, but the uneasy tension was fortunately broken by an unexpected appearance.

“Mrow?”

Wanda and Peter raced out of the kitchen (Peter ‘accidentally’ bumping Steve in the shoulder as he passed), and fell to their knees dramatically in the living room. Grant strutted past them, heading directly for James, but the three kittens congregated around the two teens, excitedly mewling as they preened for attention.

“How?” Wanda gasped, glancing at James in awe who already had Grant nestled in his arms.

The former-assassin shrugged. “Literally showed up in the vent early this morning with the whole crew, scared the sh*t out of me and Steve.”

Steve awkwardly looked on, shifting his feet from side to side. “Uh, that reminds me… I should talk to Tony about our new additions, I’ll catch you guys later.”

Before either of them could say anything, Steve bolted from the apartment, leaving an embarrassed James in his wake.

“So uh…” Peter stammered, the all white kitten trying to climb up to his shoulders. “What did I walk in on earlier?”

James groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “I don’t even know.”

“Friday, where’s Natasha?” he guiltily whispered when the elevator doors shut and cut him off from Bucky and the kids.

“Agent Romanoff is in her apartment… would you like to go there, Captain?”

“Yes, please.”

Stepping off the elevator, he noticed Natasha was perched in her bubble chair again, typing rapidly on her phone with an intense look of concentration on her face. He cleared his throat to alert her to his presence, and while she didn’t startle at the unexpected sound, she did shoot him a look of surprise (which was fair, considering it had been months since he'd randomly shown up to her apartment without texting her first…and of course, the last time was an issue related to Bucky as well). Natasha moved to jump down, but Steve quickly held his hand up, indicating she should remain where she was.

He took a leaf from Peter’s book, starfishing on his back on the giant fluffy white carpet under her chair, mentally noting how the material felt a bit like Grant’s silky fur.

“I am a f*cking mess, Nat,” he groaned, covering his face with his arm.

“You look pretty clean to me…are you here to use my shower?” she innocently asked, and he groaned louder at her embarrassing dad joke.

“Not that kind of mess,” he muttered petulantly. “You know what I meant.”

She sighed dejectedly. “No one appreciates my humor, except Clint, and that’s only if he gets the joke in the first place.”

Feeling somewhat bad, he offered the best laugh he could muster considering the circ*mstances. “Ha ha, that was a good one, Nat, you are so clever, oh my gosh.”

“Gee, thanks, that sure did make me feel grand. But you’ve come to the right place to find the answer to your woes, hun,” she chirped. “Do tell.”

Steve wasn’t completely sure where to start considering so f*cking much had happened between now and the last time he was here for her advice, but then a moment from last night popped into his mind, and he decided that was as good as place as any to begin.

He adjusted his arm and cracked an eye open, peering up at her curiously. “Did you know Bucky thought you and I had a thing going on? Like…a romantic thing.”

Her devilish smirk told him enough. “It crossed my mind once or twice that it was a possibility he thought that, yes. But I admit, I am baffled by how you thought him and Wanda were an item.”

Steve blanched, flailing his arms around on the surprisingly comfy rug. “First, that wasn’t my fault… Vision was very convincing, okay. But why didn’t you tell me about Bucky thinking we were dating?! Hell, is that why you two don’t get along? Cuz I’ll be honest, I don’t understand the animosity at all… thought you two would get along the best out of everyone.”

“Jealousy is a funny thing,” she shrugged, refusing to expand further on the matter much to Steve’s frustration. “But that doesn’t explain how you’re a mess.”

He inhaled deeply, slowly letting the air out of his lungs before confessing his recent realization to his second closest friend. “I… I almost kissed Bucky last night, and, umm, I might have some unexplainable feelings towards him that recently have come to my attention after a multitude of confusing events over the last week? And he actually kissed me yesterday morning, but it was a quick peck to say thank you, so does that even count?”

She shocked Steve by audibly gasping, her entire body perking up at his admission. “Rogers, you sly dog. Tell me everything , and don’t you dare leave anything out.”

His mind was a jumbled mess from the events of the last twelve hours alone, not to mention the last week, but he did his best to explain everything that happened since he was last in her apartment.

Steve started off first by recounting the dinner he had with Bucky outside the Tower last week, the same day he’d last hung out with Natasha one-on-one. Getting dinner at a food truck and eating it on a rooftop should have been something simple and unmemorable, but Steve spent the entire evening feeling as if he was on cloud nine. Bucky had looked absolutely radiant , leaving Steve flustered and struggling to pull himself together for several minutes while he waited for his friend to finish getting ready. And by the time they’d made it to the roof with their overladen bags of food, they’d fallen into their typical easy camaraderie, reminding Steve of the hundreds of times they’d done something similar before the war… except for some inexplicable reason, Steve found this time to be better than all of those other moments combined. It took him until now, as he was retelling the events to Natasha, to realize why - the entire evening felt like a date.

He then explained why he left Tony’s fundraiser early; Friday had sent a text to his phone alerting him that Bucky appeared to be distressed in the common area, so he sprinted upstairs in a panic at the endless possibilities of what could be wrong and found his friend sobbing silently while watching a TV show with the kids. Steve’s enhanced memory made recalling Bucky’s words easy, but the butterflies battling in his stomach had him fighting to get the words out.

“Damn,” Natasha muttered after Steve finished. “So you’re his True North? That’s actually really f*cking cute, what the f*ck?”

“I know,” Steve sighed wistfully. “And trust me, I was bawling on the inside during all this and think I might have actually shed a few tears now that I’m thinkin’ about it… especially since I completely feel the same, you know? Don’t get me wrong, the Avengers are like a family to me… but Bucky will always be my home, where I feel safe and loved, and just… whole?”

She smiled fondly down at him. “Trust me, Steve, we know.”

“God, okay, there’s a sh*t ton more after that…” He paused, trying to remember which part happened next. “Oh f*ck, so I noticed that evening he dyed his hair darker, right, with some bright colors mixed in? It looked good of course, but the next day, Wanda braided his hair and I realized he also had some edgy haircut to go with the dye job, and Natasha… I swear, he looked... ethereal in that moment. I can’t even explain it, but I literally bolted out of there because my brain stopped functioning.”

Natasha tossed her head back with a bark of laughter. “I can picture this quite easily. Also explains why they didn’t find anything wrong with you during all those tests down in Medical.”

He felt his cheeks heating remembering the next part. “Let’s forget the whole Medical tests incident, please, that never happened. But… I know we were doing the whole fake-dating thing in the stairwell as a cover, but Natasha, it felt so real.”

She leaned forward, and Steve distractedly wondered if she was going to drop down and crush him as payback for that whole debacle… at least it would put him out of his misery, the shame for wanting to assassinate a teenager coursing through him once more (Steve will never know what exactly he would have done if he came face to face with that kid, or what he would have permitted Bucky to do…but something bad would have occurred, he knows that for a fact).

“Gonna be honest, Steve,” she remarked dryly. “If I didn’t know it was fake in advance, you two would have convinced me. That hickey was something else, and I saw Barnes’s face after… it didn’t seem like he was pretending.”

He stared blankly at the ceiling. “That whole moment seems like a dream or something from a movie. Afterwards, in the locker room, I tried to apologize for basically making him choose between Peter and me, and you know what he said?”

“Something sappy, I’d bet,” Natasha lightly quipped.

“Said he’d always choose me, no matter what,” Steve whispered, his heart aching at the memory; he couldn’t begin to fathom what he’d done to deserve such devotion from someone as extraordinary as Bucky Barnes. “And that no one would ever be more important to him than me.”

“f*ck,” she breathed. “How did you not kiss him, then?”

“Because I’m a mess,” he repeated with a groan. “God, and it gets worse, so much worse.”

Natasha sighed, leaping down from the bubble chair and landing softly next to his head (Steve was proud to say he did not flinch, thank you). She gracefully sat cross-legged on the floor, placed his head in her lap, and began to lightly massage his temples.

“Lay it on me, Rogers, I’m sure I’ve heard and experienced worse… have you met, Clint? He was a disaster, couldn’t tell I was flirting with him until I literally spelled it out. On a cake, actually, it was delicious.”

Steve smiled wide at the redhead, his heart swelling with affection for her. “Well let’s see. Yesterday morning, I gave him the Hufflepuff shirt and leggings before breakfast, and he was so excited, it was the cutest thing. He hugged me tightly at the end, and then gave me a quick peck on the lips as a thank you… that was definitely a first, we never kissed or anything back in the day.”

Natasha whistled softly. “So, Barnes has some moves now it seems.”

Steve snorted. “I guess. But early this morning, he came into my room after I had a nightmare, dressed in the shortest f*cking pajama shorts I’ve ever seen a fella wear, and nothing else… literally stormed into my room half-naked like an avenging god, complete with a loaded gun and a knife stashed in his hair.”

She patted his head sympathetically. “Did the image break your brain, big guy?”

“You have no idea, Natasha,” he whined dramatically, his lips forming a pout. “My brain completely malfunctioned, as it tends to do when Bucky is involved. So, he’s in my room to comfort me from this terrible recurring nightmare, right? But there were some weird sounds coming from the vent in my room, and my brain decided it would be a good idea to flirt with him in order to distract him from investigating the noise, cuz I didn’t want to put him in danger, ya know?”

Her brows furrowed, and she shook her head in disappointment. “So you were going to kiss him as a distraction?”

“Oh no,” Steve quickly corrected, his eyes widening in alarm at the misunderstanding. “I was going to kiss him because I’m in love with him.”

They both froze at the admission; Natasha’s mouth dropped open, and Steve’s heart began racing when he repeated the words in his head, realizing he completely meant what he said; he was truly and utterly head-over-heels in love with his best friend.

“Holy f*ck,” he whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut. “What do I do? I can’t… he wouldn’t… f*cking sh*t, I love him… no, that’s wrong. I am in love with him.”

Natasha carded her hands soothingly through his hair. “Breathe, Steve. Finish the story first, and then we’ll process that part.

He took a deep breath and slowly let the air out of his lungs, keeping his eyes shut as he recalled the next part. “Well, I didn’t kiss him because this noise interrupted us and ruined the moment. But then we ended up talking about some of our past secrets while lying next to each other in my bed, and he admitted his first kiss was a guy, Natasha, can you believe it? We ended up sleeping in the same bed, and the kids walked in on us this morning… I can’t even begin to imagine what they think, especially since Bucky had a loaded gun pointed at Peter who looked f*cking terrified out of his mind.”

“Was Barnes still half naked at this point?”

Heat crawled up his face at the memory… so much tan, muscled skin in his face first thing in the morning had been one hell of a way to wake up (until he pieced together what was happening). “Yes.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Guarantee you it wasn’t the gun that made him all flustered.”

He cringed, feeling bad for scaring Peter no matter what the actual cause was. “Oh! Did you know Bucky had a kid?”

“WHAT!?” she screeched, accidentally digging her nails into his scalp.

“His name is Grant,” he proudly stated, grateful when she began running her fingers gently through his hair again, especially since his scalp was now burning, good lord, did she suddenly grow claws?!

“Isn’t that…your middle name?” she questioned, tilting her head in confusion. “How old is the spawn?”

“I’m not sure how old he is,” Steve admitted, biting his lip in thought. “Kind of hard to tell in cats, ya know?”

“You are the f*cking worst,” she scoffed, flicking his forehead, which, ow, damn, why is everyone he knows violent? “Did he finally tell you where he was last year?”

“Kind of. The cat and its three f*cking kittens showed up in our vent last night.”

“You don’t… find that suspicious?” she tentatively asked, arching an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?” he frowned.

“Barnes was a ghost for a year after the helicarrier. You said he was with someone, right, during the time? Do you know how easy it is to put a tracker or boobytrap on an animal? How else would it get in the vent to begin with?”

“sh*t,” he breathed, hastily sitting up and twisting to face her. “I need to go, but we’ll continue this later?”

“Oh yeah, you’re not getting away from me easily after that revelation,” she grinned slyly, reaching out and wrapping him into a bruising hug.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispered, hugging her back. “Thank you for always listening to my problems.”

“I’m proud of you,” she murmured, lightly placing a hand on his cheek after breaking the hug, her eyes blazing as she looked at him. “For what it’s worth, I think Barnes feels similarly.”

He swallowed, jerking his gaze away. “I don’t know about all of that.”

Steve clumsily stood up, offering a hand to Natasha and pulling her to her feet. “I’ll text you later.”

“Washing the animal is probably the easiest way to eliminate most options,” she called as Steve briskly headed towards the staircase, needing the exercise to burn off some restless energy. “I’ll send Clint over when Barnes is away to check for microchips.”

“Thank you, Natasha.” He turned around and strode back towards the woman, planting a firm kiss on each of her cheeks. “I appreciate you, always.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she dismissed, pushing him back towards the direction he came, but Steve smiled internally at the light blush adorning her cheeks. “Get out of my apartment.”

Steve punched in the pass code to their apartment and flung the door open, his chest heaving from fear rather than the all-out sprint up several flights of stairs; he prayed nothing had happened to Bucky or the kids (the human and the animal ones) due to his lack of common sense. He felt like such a f*cking idiot for never once thinking it was strange that the cats appeared in their vent, and he’d never forgive himself if something happened because of his naiveness.

Upon entering the apartment, he flinched at the cacophony of noises coming from the kitchen. His adrenaline levels evened out when he identified Wanda’s manic (but cheerful) laughter over the sounds of the kitchen sink running, something bumping repeatedly into the lower cabinets, and Peter’s loud groans of pain; Steve remained in the doorway, trying to determine just what the f*ck was happening in his apartment while trying to catch his breath at the same time.

“No, no, bad Gemma,” Peter cried, and Steve pinched the bridge of his nose when he heard a wave of water splash onto the floor.

“You better clean all that up before Steve gets back!” Bucky hollered from the hall bathroom. “He just cleaned and polished the floors the other day, and everyone in the Tower can hear you making a ruckus in there.”

“Is Bucky not the House Husband?” Peter muttered, and either Bucky didn’t hear or chose not to respond. “Why is Steve doing all the cleaning?”

“James is the Trophy Husband, silly,” Wanda snickered from somewhere next to Peter. “Have you seen the jaw line? Come on.”

Steve took a moment to imagine himself at Tony’s last charity gala with Bucky dressed to the nines on his arm; the image, while odd since Bucky was usually by his side but not on his arm, filled him with all sorts of warmth… maybe when Bucky was feeling more comfortable, he’d oblige to being Steve’s date to one of those things. But as friends, of course! He wouldn’t want to make his best friend uncomfortable, but all of those stuffy events seemed a lot more enticing with Bucky at his side… on his arm, preferably, but either way, things were always better when he was with Bucky.

“You could help you know!” Peter shouted back to Bucky, startling Steve from his daydream. “It’s three against two in here, and we ain’t doing so well since someone can’t keep it together.”

Steve heard a smacking sound followed by a sharp hiss from Peter.

“You volunteered,” Bucky shrugged, walking into the living room but stopping short when he noticed Steve standing awkwardly in front of the stairwell door.

“I was tricked!” Peter whined dramatically. “You said I could name one if I helped take care of it, but you skipped out on the part where they’re all secretly demons. I swear, they’ll be growing horns in no time, just wait!”

Steve found himself once again left speechless by the other Super Soldier today… not because he was half naked (Steve was marginally disappointed that Bucky was dressed in real clothes now and then instantly felt terrible for thinking such indecent and cringey thoughts about his best friend - he seriously needed to get control over his brain, like immediately), but because he was holding Grant in his arms, the cat’s damp head poking out from a fluffy towel. It was evident Bucky had just given his child a bath, and Steve would wager the chaos from the kitchen was likely due to the kittens being given their own baths by the teens.

“Oh, umm hi, Steve,” Bucky quietly greeted. He hugged the cat gently to his chest and kept his gaze on the floor. “We were just giving the babies a bath since they all had some dirt on them from their adventure to the Tower, but we’ll clean up everything -“

“Hey, don’t worry about it, it’s nice to see this place with a lot more life,” Steve truthfully replied, smiling softly at his friend.

He literally wouldn’t care if half of the apartment was on fire (as long as everyone was out of harm’s way), too epically relieved to have successfully avoided confronting Bucky about the potential his animals were carrying trackers from their enemies (and said enemy may be Bucky’s random friend for all they knew). He mentally reminded himself to text Natasha the second he had the chance for the next phase of their plan, but at least that portion involved no explanation on his part (unless for some awful reason Clint got caught). “Do you need help setting anything up? Where’s the litter box?”

Steve peered around the apartment, noticing two new wooden rectangular tables and an excessive amount of boxes filled with all kinds of contraptions based on the vague descriptions he could read from his current spot.

“They’re in the tables!” Bucky exclaimed, and Steve co*cked an eyebrow at the strange explanation.

Bucky shifted Grant’s bundled form to his left arm and reached out with his free hand to grab Steve’s wrist, excitedly tugging him towards the large pile of stuff.

The tables were about the size of a typical coffee table with two doors covering the inside from view, but they had a small open space to the right for the cats to use as an entrance. Bucky dropped his hand and opened the doors, and Steve saw the giant litter box (which looked more like an uncovered storage bin with a hole on one side as a kitty door) nestled snugly inside.

“That’s actually really neat,” Steve remarked, genuinely impressed by the design - they could put the litter boxes anywhere now since they were disguised as furniture, and the closed doors would easily mask the smell.

“Right? I’m going to put one in my room under the window, and then maybe we can put the other in the ‘hardware room’?” Bucky asked (the ‘hardware room’ was a room Steve assumed was intended to be a laundry room, but since Tony insisted they all use his Tower’s laundry service, Steve ended up stashing various tools, workout gear, and miscellaneous gadgets he had no idea what to do with in the decently sized room located off the kitchen).

“Anything you want,” Steve whispered, his heart skipping a beat when Bucky slid an arm around his waist and pulled him into a one-armed side hug (Steve pretended he didn’t see the judgmental look Grant shot him… if he needed to fight the cat for Bucky’s attention then he would happily swallow his pride and do so).

“How was your talk with Stark?” Bucky asked suddenly, and Steve froze, because f*ck, he knew he forgot something.

“Great, he was totally cool with it,” Steve lied, grinning widely in hopes Bucky didn’t sense his nervousness (Tony would be cool with it, or else he’ll witness firsthand how uncool and obnoxious Steve could be until he got his way). “Wanna move all this stuff around now?”

“Yes!” Bucky beamed, his eyes alight with joy; at such a close distance, Steve idly noted the specks of blue amongst the gray in his irises. “Then, we can put all the cat towers together.”

Steve skeptically eyed the dozen or so boxes. “These are all cat towers? I know the apartment is big, but do we have the space for that?”

“Don’t be silly,” Bucky scoffed, rolling his eyes. He pulled his arm back and pointed at the appropriate boxes as he listed off the purchases. “There are only four towers, the two larger ones for the living room and one smaller tower for each of our rooms. Then over here is their cat condo, the traveling crates, their beds, the perches we have to hang on the walls, the perches for the windows, the spinning wheel, the water fountain, their food bowls, the grooming kits which I’ve clearly already opened, and of course, that big box over there is filled with different toys designed to keep them mentally alert and physically fit.”

“Oh,” Steve meekly replied, resigning himself for a long afternoon of assembling cat items on his own with Bucky regally “overseeing” the proceedings.

“So yeah, nothing extravagant just yet until we get an idea of what the kittens will like,” Bucky concluded, a thoughtful frown on his face. Steve honestly believed his friend was speaking unsarcastically and truly thought none of this was excessive (despite the fact these purchases must have cost thousands of dollars and took over half of their living room) - Steve wholeheartedly feared the day Bucky decided it was time to be extravagant by his own personal standards. “Grant is pretty easy going, but I know that’s not always the case. But now that we’ve named the babies, we can get all their belongings monogrammed so it’s easier to remember which items belong with which cat, and that’ll also help them in developing their sense of personal identity.” (Steve had absolutely no idea what that entailed or why it was necessary, but if Bucky wanted his kittens to develop their own personal identities, then Steve would happily assist wherever he could).

They heard another crash from the kitchen, and Steve was blessedly saved from having to respond to such a nonsensical claim (he did make a mental note to ask Sam later if the cats sharing items would be a legitimate issue or if Bucky was just being an overindulgent Cat Dad. Sam seemed sensible enough and could shed some light on the situation, hopefully… maybe he should pick up some books from the library on owning a cat, too?)

“We should uhh..”

“Yep,” Bucky nodded, unwrapping Grant from his towel and carefully placing him on the floor.

They darted into the kitchen to find Peter drenched in water with Wanda sitting on the floor with two wet kittens climbing on her legs, the witch laughing so hard that no noise was coming from her mouth.

“No one ever helps me in this goddamn house,” Peter loudly complained, and Wanda tipped over to lay flat on the floor, tears pouring from her eyes while the two kittens confusedly crawled over her. “Hi, Steve.”

Steve winced as the squirming kitten in the sink tried to climb Peter’s bare arm with its tiny (but sharp) claws in a frantic attempt to escape the water. “Need a hand?”

“I got Gemma, you go get cleaned up, Peter,” Bucky directed, nudging Peter out of the way and taking the all white kitten from his hand.

“Are you guys going to come to my training today?” Peter asked hopefully, holding a paper towel to his bleeding arm that was already healing. “Mr. Stark says Thor is back and will be leading it.”

Bucky gasped, his eyes wide as he stared imploringly at Steve while still keeping a firm hold on the thrashing kitten. “Can we?!”

Steve’s stomach wrenched at the thought of being forced to watch Bucky fawn over Thor all afternoon, but he forced a smile on his face, unwilling to deny his friend something he’s waited so long for. “Of course, Buck, but only if we don’t get in the way of Peter’s lesson.”

“Cross my heart, no one will even know I’m there, I’ll be the best ghost this Tower ever had!” Bucky promised, and Steve swore he could see little hearts in Bucky’s eyes. The former-assassin did an excited little shimmy as he turned back to bathe the sullen kitten. “Oh, Peter, please save Wanda on your way out. Steve can dry Blaise and Nyx.”

Steve waited until Peter picked Wanda off the floor (who had finally stopped laughing, but now couldn’t stop hiccupping), deposited her on the couch, and headed off to the bathroom with his backpack. “Interesting names…”

“We each picked out a name, but I like all three of them,” Bucky shrugged, gently massaging the pet shampoo into the resigned kitten. “Very unique, which is kind of funny since their dad has a basic name.”

“Um, I am mildly offended by such a statement,” Steve gasped, dramatically holding his hand to his chest (which contained a squirming kitten, but whatever… he should also probably figure out if this was Blaise or Nyx) and reveled in the sight of Bucky’s light blush - Steve’s heart had almost burst with love when he heard Bucky say his cat’s name was Grant.

They continued to make small talk as they finished drying all three kittens, and Bucky unpacked and washed their new food bowls while Steve attempted to keep the adventurous trio out of trouble in the meantime (and Grant took after his dad it seemed and snootily oversaw the production while offering absolutely zero help).

“Okay, go change!” Peter directed, skipping into the kitchen in his Tony-approved PE gear. “I know you two won’t just ‘sit and watch’ like Wanda will.”

Both men laughed, knowing the teen was likely correct; at the very least, they could use this time to get their own workout in, and Steve was delighted when Bucky agreed to run combat drills together using the shield (sharing the shield during fights had been something they’d often done during the war when Bucky’s position as a sniper was no longer required).

After quickly changing into their own training attire (and after Bucky pressed kisses on the heads of all four cats, promising that their ‘Pa and Papa will be home soon’... Steve definitely shed a few tears on the inside at the combination of the cute sight and the fact he automatically earned such a high title with their cat family), they headed down to the gym, Bucky nervously fluttering around the elevator in anticipation.

“None of you embarrass me, please,” he hissed, glaring at all three of the elevator occupants. “I’ve waited ninety years for this impossible moment, and I will be very, very sad if someone ruins this for me.”

“Oh James, you are too precious,” Wanda smirked devilishly. “Why would we try to embarrass you when you can so easily do that on your own?”

“Ooh, Mr. Thor,” Peter mocked, pitching his voice high while flipping his imaginary long hair over his shoulder. “It’s soo nice to meet you, your holiness... I’m your absolute biggest fan, and I kiss your poster every night before I go to bed. Will you sign my chest?”

“Peter!” Steve and Bucky screeched simultaneously, Wanda loudly laughing and high fiving the other teen over their scolding.

“Just kidding, stop yelling!” Peter held his hands up pleadingly. “Sorry, Bucky, couldn’t resist.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky crossly grumbled, his cheeks blossoming with red. “Just save it all for later if you have to, but not while he’s around.”

The elevator doors slid open, and their group shuffled out; Peter and Wanda led the way, with Steve and Bucky walking in-tandem behind them.

“You good, Buck?” Steve asked, bumping his shoulder with Bucky’s.

“No,” he admitted, and Steve looked over to see his friend anxiously chewing on his bottom lip, his shoulders hunched. “Nervous.”

“Hey.” Steve grabbed Bucky’s arm and turned him around so they faced each other. Bringing his other hand up, Steve used his thumb to lightly pull down on Bucky’s lower lip, freeing it from being torn apart by Bucky’s fretful mannerisms. “He’s a nice guy once you get over the ego, and if he’s rude to you, I’ll knock him so far across the nine realms, it’ll take him decades to find his way back here, okay?”

Bucky’s eyes sparkled with amusem*nt, but a new voice interrupted before he could respond.

“Captain Rogers!” Thor’s voice boomed across the gym. “Who are we knocking across the nine realms? I may have lost my hammer, but I’ve still got a mighty swing.”

Bucky’s eyes went impossibly wide, and Steve swore the man legitimately ‘meep’d’ when he heard Thor speak. As Steve headed over to Thor and the kids, he glanced to both sides confusedly before realizing Bucky had taken his ‘ghost’ comment literally and was trying to hide his lean frame entirely behind Steve’s.

“Nope,” Steve rejected, firmly grabbing his friend’s arm and pulling him into his side; he wrapped a strong arm around Bucky’s waist to keep him from disappearing again (knowing all too well how fast the former-assassin could vanish when he put his mind to it).

Bucky came to a sudden halt and didn’t budge when Steve tried to tug him forward using the arm around his middle. “I think I left the oven on, I should go check that.”

“Friday will make sure it’s turned off,” Steve refuted, not even bothering to point out that Bucky had never once used the oven in the entire time he’s been in Steve’s apartment. “Keep walking, Buck.”

“I can’t, I can’t,” Bucky whimpered, attempting to squirm out of his grasp, much like the kitten’s had tried to evade bathing time. “I am not worthy, he’s a magical alien space god, Stevie! Have mercy, please, I beg you.”

“It’s not that serious,” Steve hissed back, rolling his eyes at Bucky’s dramatics. “He should be the one feeling unworthy to meet someone as great as you.”

Bucky scoffed and tried to pinch Steve’s arm to force him to let go, but Steve gritted his teeth and bore the pain until Bucky gave up with an annoyed huff. “You have to say that because you’re my best friend.”

“I have never lied in my life,” Steve boldly claimed, which sent Bucky into a fit of giggles (Steve pretended to be offended, but he enjoyed seeing his friend in lighter spirits, even if it was at his own expense).

After much struggling, the two Super Soldiers finally crossed the gym to join the others; Wanda had seated herself comfortably on the bench, a book in her hand, while Peter began stretching off to the side in preparation for his workout. Thor gracefully stood to greet the two, dressed casually in Earth workout attire that looked like it had come from Steve’s own closet - a loose pair of black track pants and a white compression tank top a size too small that accentuated his rippling muscular frame.

“What an unexpected surprise! It’s been a long time since we’ve been in the gym together, Son of Rogers,” Thor bellowed, managing to hug Steve tightly despite one of his arms remaining around Bucky’s waist. The former-assassin stood rigidly next to Steve, his eyes as wide as saucers as he stared in awe at the Asgardian. “And I see you brought a friend!”

Thor’s smile was wide across his handsome face; even with the eye-patch and the shorter hair, the man was still extremely good looking, and Steve wondered if that was the whole ‘god’ thing or if Asgardians were all naturally aesthetically pleasing. “Is this the one I heard so much about when I arrived back on Earth?”

Steve cringed slightly; he hadn’t spent much time with Thor since he’d only come back for a short time before leaving for New Asgard, and while he had mentioned Bucky a few times, he didn’t think he mentioned him too often… Steve had no idea what exactly Thor heard and could only imagine the wild stories he was told from the Tower’s various occupants (that may or may not have been true).

“Yes,” he grinned, deciding it was better if he didn’t think too much about it and just provide Thor with the correct information now. “This is my best friend since childhood, Bucky Barnes. We fought in the war together, and he’s been living here for a few months.”

As they all turned to look at Bucky, the man in question let out a small gasp and ducked his head down, once again trying to use his long hair to hide his face. “Hello, friend of Cap! I am Thor, King of New Asgard, God of Thunder, and a member of the mighty Avengers. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Thor held his hand out, and Bucky cautiously extended his flesh hand out, stopping just before touching Thor’s larger hand, his lips firmly shut.

“Does he not speak?” Thor loudly whispered, tactless but not unkind, carefully shaking Bucky’s outstretched hand. “Or does he speak a different language? I’m fluent in a few different ones, but I’m not sure they’re spoken here on Midgard.”

“He speaks French,” Wanda fibbed, her eyes dancing mischievously as she peered over her book at them.

“Um, and he grew up really into Norse mythology, so it’s kind of like meeting a celebrity,” Peter hesitantly added, raising a questioning eyebrow at Wanda - the witch winked in response, and a sense of dread filled Steve’s stomach.

“Oh! Yes, well, from my own experience, it can be quite disappointing to meet your idols in person. Hmm, let’s see, I might be a bit rusty, but I do think I know a few phrases in French.” Thor bit his lip, trying to recall his teachings, and Bucky finally looked up, shooting a glare at both teens; Wanda simply smirked while Peter shrugged feebly.

Steve opened his mouth to somehow rectify the situation, but the Asgardian spoke before he could say anything.

“Bonjour, mon chéri. Est-ce que ton père a été un voleur? Parce qu’il a volé les étoiles du ciel pour les mettre dans tes yeux. Tu es beau.” Thor reached back out and grabbed Bucky’s hand, and Steve (and Bucky and Peter) watched in shock as the Asgardian gently placed a kiss on the top of his hand, his gaze locked intensely on Bucky’s.

“What did he say, what did he say?!” Peter whispered excitedly to a wide-eyed Wanda, and Steve shamelessly eavesdropped on her translation ( “Hello, my dear. Was your father a thief? Because he stole the stars from the sky to put them in your eyes. You are handsome”).

“Umm… we don’t do that here,” Steve aloofly advised, waving a hand airily to represent the whole hand-kissing thing.

He internally scoffed, because of course Thor would know only flirtatious French phrases, and Steve would bet his shield that the other Avengers knew dozens of other seductive sayings in a myriad of languages. And to Steve, it sounded pretentious coming from the Asgardian and lacked any sort of charm (and why Thor was trying to charm Bucky, Steve had no idea, but the thought absolutely did not sit well with him).

His eyes narrowed as Thor smiled coyly at Bucky, and Steve swears he saw the other Avenger bat his eyelashes.

Bucky gasped at Thor’s words, bringing his metal hand to his chest, his cheeks crimson. “C’est un plaisir de vous rencontrer, Votre Majesté.”

Steve was unsurprised that Bucky understood and could effortlessly speak French considering the Winter Soldier was rumored to be fluent in dozens of languages, but he was shaken by how perfectly the words rolled off Bucky’s tongue, as if he’d been speaking it consistently his entire life. When Bucky spoke French, Steve could understand why it was considered to be the language of love and romance… just one single sentence sent chills down Steve’s spine and heat pulsing through his veins, and Steve decided that he’d very much like to hear Bucky speak in French more often (preferably to him, alone, and nowhere near Thor).

“I have no idea what that means, but will you two be staying while I train Child of Spiders for the afternoon?” Thor questioned, his eyes staying focused on Bucky as if Steve wasn’t there at all, which, rude.

“Oui,” Bucky answered with a dazed smile.

“Splendid!”

“I’m really excited to train with you Mr. Thor!” Peter chattered, coming to stand at Bucky’s side. “I hope you aren’t tougher than Bucky, though… his warm-up alone almost killed me, and I didn’t even make it to the real workout.”

“I have heard he is a fierce warrior,” Thor acknowledged, his eyes raking appreciatively over Bucky’s form.

“Uh,” Peter glanced anxiously between Wanda, Bucky, and Steve, unsure how to respond to such a statement. “He’s awesome…like, overall, as a person. The best!"

“It has been claimed that I am the best assassin in history, having been credited with dozens of kills over the last fifty years,” Bucky preened, flipping his hair over his shoulder to Steve’s utter astonishment; Bucky never spoke proudly of his Winter Soldier days (barely referencing them at all), nor did he preen (unless he was showing off his outfit or new style to Steve) - what f*ck was happening?! “I’m also expertly trained in hand-to-hand combat, marksmanship, knife throwing, and spycraft.”

“You would be lauded in New Asgard for your prowess in combat and commitment to battle!” Thor gallantly proclaimed, waving a hand towards Bucky’s metal arm, and Steve bristled at the supposed ‘compliment’ - he vividly remembered giving Thor a brief rundown of Bucky’s history during one of their Team meetings, and he definitely mentioned how Bucky traumatically lost his left arm in addition to the whole ‘being brainwashed against his will for seventy years’ thing, so why Thor thought it was okay to suddenly start talking about the metal arm like it was a was a good thing that happened was a f*cking mystery to him. “Our finest warriors are treated like royalty, and you would certainly be worthy of such high praise and honor.”

“Oh, I don’t know if I’m that good,” Bucky shyly answered, ducking his head once more.

“Well, from what I’ve heard and can see, you are one of the absolute finest, I assure you.”

“How’s Jane?” Steve cut in, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No idea,” Thor shrugged, briefly glancing towards Steve. “We broke up after the Ultron fiasco… it was a mutual break up, of course, as I believe I already mentioned to you.”

“Ah, yes, my apologies, how very sad,” Steve callously dismissed. “But aren’t you supposed to be training Peter?”

“If you’re interested, you can come up to my floor, and I’ll show you some Asgardian fighting techniques?” Thor continued, ignoring Steve entirely. “From my experience, we do things very differently, but someone as strong and capable as yourself should catch on very quickly.”

“I’ll just go get warmed up,” Peter meekly muttered, walking off to the treadmills and dragging a smirking Wanda with him.

“Oh wow, I would love to learn any techniques you can teach me, that would be so awesome, thank you!” Bucky gushed, twirling a piece of his hair around his finger. “It would be an honor to learn from someone so…skilled.”

Steve clenched his fists, but remained silent, unsure how to handle this progressively deteriorating situation.

“I can teach you a lot of different things, my friend, and I am quite talentedat many of them,” Thor promised with a leer. “You like weapons, yes? I can show you my personal collection of rare items collected from across the nine realms… there are very few who can say they’ve had the privilege to view them, but I’d be willing to include you on that exclusive list.”

(Steve almost dragged Bucky out of the gym without a word after Thor’s last comment, only resisting the urge by reminding himself how betrayed Bucky would feel if he pulled him away from his idol).

Bucky licked his lips and tucked the strand of hair behind his ear. “Oh, no, I couldn’t! I’m not worthy enough, I’m afraid, but thank you.”

“Nonsense! You are plenty worthy, I have never heard anything so foolish before,” Thor refuted with a laugh. He ran a hand through his shorter hair, his bicep flexing in the process. “We can go up now, if you aren’t busy?”

“Um, YOU’RE busy, Thor!” Steve countered with a growl, pointing to Peter who was jogging slowly on the treadmill; his head was tilted down, and Steve assumed the teen was likely eavesdropping with his enhanced hearing and whispering what he heard to Wanda, the older girl sitting quietly on the treadmill next to him, her book long forgotten.

Thor waved a hand dismissively. “Stark wanted me to run him through a fitness test, but oh look, the Spider Child passed with flying colors… GOOD JOB KID!”

“Thanks Mr. Thor!” Peter shouted back with a thumbs up, proving Steve’s assessment correct. “Have fun playing with each other’s weapons, but be safe about it!”

“Peter, why,” Wanda groaned, face palming.

Steve’s nostrils flared, scowling at the Asgardian who was starting to walk away, his arm thrown casually over Bucky’s shoulders while they whispered excitedly to each other.

“Buck, I thought you wanted to train together today… with the shield, like we used to?” Steve questioned when the duo made it halfway across the gym.

Bucky turned his head around, his face glowing with excitement. “It’s still early, Stevie, we can catch up later.”

“Don’t worry, Captain! Your friend will be well taken care of in my hands,” Thor smirked, giving Steve a wink that made his blood boil. “I’ve been told I’m quite skilled with them, too.”

Steve watched, his body tense, as the pair finished the trek across the gym, his fists clenching and unclenching in undefined rage. Before his brain could process his body’s movements, he ripped the shield from its hold on his back and flung the disk brutally at Bucky and Thor’s retreating forms.

Wanda gasped, and Steve immediately regretted his impulsive action, but the shield flew too fast for anyone to call out a warning.

To his immense relief, Bucky twisted around just in time to reach out and catch the shield with his metal arm, his eyes burning with fiery rage at Steve’s petty action; Thor turned around to see why Bucky stopped, and he raised an eyebrow upon seeing the heavy metal disk mere centimeters from his neck.

Bucky’s murderous expression didn’t fade, however, and had Steve slowly back pedaling, his hands raised placatingly. He wasn’t surprised when the former-assassin hurled the shield back at him, much like the man had when they first met on the rooftops after the Winter Soldier shot Nick Fury; he was surprised, however, when Bucky sprinted towards him after throwing the shield.

Steve snatched the shield out of the air to keep it from accidentally hitting the children (or damaging some machine that would send Tony into another one of his rants that Steve would be forced to tune out). He collapsed with a pained grunt when Bucky slammed into him, dropping the shield in the process and flinching internally when it clattered loudly to the ground in the stunned silence of the gym.

“What are you doing?” Bucky growled into Steve’s ear, his full weight pressed against Steve, forcing the air from his lungs.

“Just… just a bit of training,” Steve wheezed, his eyes wide and innocent despite the throbbing pain radiating throughout his body, because holy f*ck, Bucky hit hard when he was mad.

“We can train anytime, Steve,” Bucky fumed, his gray eyes dark with anger. “Why are you ruining this for me? I told you how excited I was simply to meet him… I can barely even fathom him wanting to hang out with me!”

Bucky stood up, ‘accidentally’ shoving his knees and elbows into Steve as he did so, but still begrudgingly held a hand out to help his friend up. “Don’t you want me to have more friends?”

It took every ounce of self control Steve possessed to keep his ‘no’ to himself.

“Buck, how naïve are you?” Steve sneered, feeling his own anger welling up. “He’s not looking to be your friend or to ‘hang out’ with you.”

“What?” Bucky hesitated, his lips dropping into a frown.

“He’s obviously got an ulterior motive,” Steve continued, brushing imaginary dirt off his clothes. “I just think you shouldn’t be alone with him! He’s clearly trying to take advantage of you since he knows you’re a fan.”

“Do you even think before words come spewing out of your mouth anymore? Maybe you should try it sometime, Steve, because that’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said, and believe me, I’ve heard a lot of stupid sh*t from you over the years,” Bucky scoffed, shouldering Steve to the side on his way to rejoin Thor.

“Will we be having a three-way?” Thor inquired, his deep voice echoing throughout the gym.

“Ex -… excuse me?” Steve stuttered, his cheeks heating at such a provocative phrase.

“I would love a three-way,” Bucky blurted, his eyes wide as he glanced appraisingly at the two men.

“What?!” Peter shrieked; fortunately Wanda maintained enough sense to use her magic to keep the clumsy boy from face planting on the treadmill, but even her expression was dumbfounded as she gaped at the three men.

“Is a three-way battle so shocking?” Thor uneasily glanced between Steve, Bucky, and the two teens. “We train that way often on Asgard, but perhaps this is another faux pas here on Midgard.”

“Ah, yes, a battle,” Bucky nodded, his own cheeks flushed red, his eyes looking everywhere but at the two men. “Not shocking at all.”

“So that’s a yes?” Thor asked hopefully. “To keep it fair, it will be me against the two of you instead of every man for himself, of course.”

“Steve could kick your ass on his own,” Bucky defended, crossing his arms over his chest; Steve beamed at his friend, feeling over the moon by Bucky’s confidence in his abilities. “But fine.”

“Cap is a mighty warrior here on Midgard, but he is no match for me,” Thor chuckled, patting Steve on the arm when he joined them. “You two can keep the shield, but no knives or other weapons - just us three, hand-to-hand. We will show the young ones how a proper training battle is conducted.”

“Sounds fair,” Bucky agreed, turning to Steve. “You in?”

“Sure,” Steve smiled, internally overjoyed by the turn of events; he didn’t know why, but Bucky going off with Thor felt like the end of something that had barely just begun.

“Leave all your weapons with the kids on the bench,” Thor directed, staring firmly at Bucky. “I’ve been ‘accidentally’ stabbed by my brother too many times in the heat of training to trust you won’t pull a blade when you realize you’re losing.”

“We won’t lose, but okay,” Bucky huffed, rolling his eyes. Steve and Thor watched with raised eyebrows as Bucky pulled out a mountain of blades and four hand guns from various parts of his body, leaving them safely with Wanda (after he insisted on her pinky promising that neither teen would touch anything in the pile… especially Peter).

“Alright, on my mark,” Wanda called from the bench.

Steve glanced towards Bucky, both Super Soldiers dropping into a fighting stance. “Just like the old days, Buck?”

“But better,” Bucky answered with a ferocious grin, flexing the fingers on his left arm. “We got this, pal.”

“Don’t forget, this is just training,” Peter forcefully reminded them, sitting rigidly next to Wanda. “No serious injuries, please.”

“Do not worry, Spider Child. Your Midgardian heroes will be just fine after I am through with them,” Thor jovially assured the teen.

“Annnnnd, go!”

Steve forgot how exhilarating it was to charge into battle with Bucky by his side, but his friend was right; it was even better now, because with Bucky’s enhancements, he could easily keep pace with Steve. The two danced around Thor as if they’d been training together all their lives, the shield flying effortlessly between them like it was an extension of their own bodies and preventing the worst of Thor’s blows from harming them.

“We got him on the ropes,” Steve chuckled quietly, knowing Bucky could hear him but unsure if he’d remember the reference.

Thor’s chest heaved from exertion, sweat pouring from his body. They managed to get a few good hits in, including one from Bucky squarely at Thor’s chest with the metal arm - it was clear the Asgardian was not used to fighting without his hammer (Steve would admit the shield was a life saver…they wouldn’t be doing so well if Thor was able to get even one powerful hit on either of them).

“You think so, Captain?” Thor shouted, and Steve watched, perplexed, as the Asgardian’s body seemed to spark with electricity. “Behold, the power of the gods!”

The gym lights flickered, and to Steve’s horror, all the lights seemed to collect just above Bucky; his friend gawked open-mouthed at the crackling light show but made no effort to lift the shield to protect himself.

When the lights coalesced into a single bolt, and Bucky continued to remain motionless, his eyes frozen wide and his body pale and trembling, Steve suddenly understood why - the scene likely forced him into a flashback of one of the many times Hydra would scramble his brain during his stint as the Winter Soldier, using consistent electric shocks to routinely wipe his memory and keep him under their twisted control.

Steve did the only thing he could do in this situation; he sprinted forward, shoving Bucky out of the way in time for the blast to connect with his own body, his nerves igniting in flames before darkness overtook him.

Bucky snapped back into reality after Steve slammed into him.

In a mix of shock and disbelief, past-Bucky, Winter, and himself watched from the ground as Steve’s body seemed to momentarily glow from the electricity pulsing through him before he dropped heavily to the floor, unmoving.

Crawling over to Steve’s lifeless form, Bucky’s mind was blank, his brain struggling to process what his eyes witnessed. Steve’s body seemed alright, slightly singed, but his chest remained still, and Bucky’s own heart stopped at the realization of what that meant.

‘He’s survived worse,’ past-Bucky whimpered, sitting close to Winter’s emotionless form. ‘He’ll be okay.’

“You were supposed to raise the shield,” Thor muttered, sinking to the floor in the middle of the gym, keeping his distance from the former-assassin. “No one was actually supposed to get shocked.”

“Hey, come on buddy,” Bucky quietly cried, ignoring Thor and lightly shaking his friend. “Wake up, Steve, this isn’t funny.”

Wanda and Peter rushed to his side and dropped to their knees to help.

“James, let Peter take a look,” Wanda gently suggested, pulling Bucky up from where he’d been tearfully laying across Steve’s chest.

“Mr. Stark makes me go to first-aid classes every month,” Peter explained, checking for Steve's pulse on his neck and wrist. “We need to perform CPR… I’ll do the chest compressions, Wanda pinch his nose and tilt his head back, and Bucky, you can do the breathing on my count… two full breaths each time I reach thirty, okay?”

Bucky and Wanda nodded, and they quickly got into position - Wanda sitting cross-legged with Steve’s head tilted up and resting on her legs, Peter on Steve’s left and Bucky opposite him on the right. Peter placed his hands on top of one another in the middle of Steve’s chest and began the compressions, counting each one aloud. When Peter hit thirty, Wanda pinched Steve’s nose shut, and Bucky leaned forward, making sure his mouth was sealed fully over Steve’s before blowing two full breaths.

“Good,” Peter praised and continued the compressions, restarting his count.

They continued the cycle for what felt like hours, Bucky losing hope and pieces of his sanity each time Steve failed to begin breathing on his own.

‘Mission failure,’ Winter concluded, his voice numb after Bucky’s fourth set of breaths. ‘We have failed and must be terminated… but he will pay for his crime first.’

Bucky twisted his head to the side, locking eyes with Thor.

“Peter, you try the breathing,” Bucky hollowly directed, standing up.

He continued to stare icily at Thor as he walked over, the Asgardian rising quickly from his seated position.

“I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt,” Thor croaked, his remaining eye shining wetly. “I swear, I thought you would raise the shield, and it would just scare you a bit.”

“And yet, you have taken the one person who means the most to me,” Bucky countered, his voice flat even to his own ears. “The battle isn’t over, but now we fight to the death.”

Bucky slammed his metal fist into the side of Thor’s skull, the Asgardian stumbling from the strength of the hit. Red overtook Bucky’s vision, and he moved on autopilot, punching and kicking and dodging and using every part of his body to make the Asgardian feel an ounce of the pain that was radiating through Bucky at the loss of his world.

“James, please stop!” Wanda screamed, her magic yanking Bucky away from Thor. “Steve’s breathing, please, James, he’s okay, he's okay.”

Bucky didn’t acknowledge her words, not believing them for a second, and forcefully ripped himself from her magical hold. He charged at the Asgardian once more, absorbing a blow from the other man but managing to knock him onto his back with a powerful right hook moments later. Bucky dropped to his knees next to him and raised his arm to deliver the final, life-ending blow.

“Bucky, no!” Peter pleaded, tears pouring from his eyes but somehow managing to hold his metal arm in place. “You won, Bucky, please don’t do this, please.”

Bucky blinked several times and looked down, confused by what he saw; Thor’s face was bloody and bruised, his one eye swollen shut and his face almost unrecognizable.

“Do it!” Thor hissed, a manic grin across his face, his teeth and lips covered in bright red blood. “I have nothing left to live for either - my home was destroyed by the sister I never knew I had, my closest friends are dead, my parents, who apparently lied to me my entire life, dead. My brother will leave me forever at any moment. I know how it feels to ‘live’ from one tragedy to the next, and I am tired, Barnes. I’m so goddamn tired. So do it… kill me, kill a god, I dare you. ”

‘Wanda wasn’t lying,’ past-Bucky sniffled, fretfully hovering behind Bucky’s right shoulder. ‘He’s breathing but still unconscious.’

Bucky glanced over his left shoulder at Winter, silently asking him what to do.

Winter shook his head. ‘You have proven you can defeat a god… actually doing so will only gain you enemies and eliminate a reliable ally.’

“No,” Bucky said, frowning down at a puzzled Thor. “I’m not a murderer, not anymore.”

Thor let out a bark of laughter despite his grievous injuries. “You are a frightful opponent, I must admit. You have truly earned your fearsome reputation.”

Bucky grimaced, knowing he’d basically destroyed any chance he had of securing himself a position on the Team and would likely face consequences for his actions…would they kick him out of the Tower? Prevent him from seeing Peter and Wanda? How would Steve react when he found out what he did?

“I’m… um, I’m sorry,” he stammered, unable to look at the man, the guilt and shame almost suffocating. “Truly.”

He made to stand up, but pain suddenly flared throughout his body.

“No worries, dear friend, no lasting damage done! But uh… you may want to sit back down,” Thor winced, slowly sitting up. “You took a few hits to the head, and I imagine they’re catching up with you.”

“I’m fine,” he refuted before everything went dark.

Chapter 9: Love Yourself, Lip Rings, & The Great Misunderstanding

Chapter Text

Bucky regained consciousness, once again feeling as if he’d been run over by a semi-truck and then pitched out of a plane into a volcano... except this time, the volcano erupted and flung his battered body into the raging sea in the midst of a category five hurricane.

He attempted to expand his senses to gain his bearings, but they refused to cooperate, his mind foggy and unable to concentrate on anything for more than a few seconds. Bucky’s heart rate spiked in fear after determining he was likely in a medical facility, a conclusion he settled on based on the sterile smell assaulting his nose and the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor, the only two things his senses could register. He cracked his eyes open and immediately ripped the IV out of his arm before scanning the room, finding himself alone until he spotted the only occupants on his far left; he blinked owlishly, his brain unable (or unwilling) to process what his eyes were seeing.

‘Hey, Sleeping Beauty, it’s nice to see you finally awake,’ past-Bucky giggled from the plush hospital chair, curled comfortably on Winter’s lap. His legs were thrown casually over one of the armrests, the side of his head resting on Winter’s flesh shoulder, the Soldier wrapping an arm securely around his middle.

‘You’ve been asleep for two weeks,’ Winter solemnly informed him, ignoring the elephant in the room. ‘Steve was out after the first twenty-four hours.’

Bucky was relieved to hear the news about Steve but refused to discuss anything else until the aforementioned elephant was removed. He pointed an accusing finger at the pair. ‘I don’t think this is what they mean when they say you should love yourself.’

Past-Bucky cackled, throwing his head back in glee while Winter did something that shocked Bucky to his core - he blushed.

‘Are you jealous, future-self?’ past-Bucky jeered, his mocking tone lightened by his bright smile. ‘Plenty of love to go around.’

‘Be careful, there’s a camera,’ Winter warned but allowed himself to be dragged by past-Bucky into the hospital bed (the warning was obviously for Bucky, reminding him to speak to them only in his head but also to not move in a way that would seem strange to observers).

‘Status report?’ he questioned when the two were nestled comfortably next to him; Winter laying down on his side on Bucky’s left, and past-Bucky mimicking him on the right, the two resting their linked hands on Bucky’s stomach.

Past-Bucky visibly cringed. ‘Not good, pal, at least physically. A severe concussion, six broken ribs, a punctured lung which required surgery, damage to the metal arm which Stark already fixed, heavy bruising, and your right hand was shattered.’

‘Currently operating at 79% functionality,’ Winter informed them with a frown. ‘Not optimal, but still functional. Most remaining damage is to the right lung from the puncture, and the brain is still healing from the concussion, but no lasting damage expected.’

‘They kept you under until you were mostly healed on Steve’s orders,’ past-Bucky continued. ‘He said you wouldn’t stay in the hospital otherwise.’

‘They were very liberal with the good drugs, lemme tell you,’ Winter added with a lopsided grin which sent past-Bucky into another burst of giggles. Bucky did feel kind of floaty now that he was paying attention, but the sudden personality changes in his past-selves were throwing him for a loop. ‘Which drops overall functionality level so don’t get used to it.”

‘But two weeks under?’ Bucky murmured worriedly. ‘Did we heal slower than usual? That’s concerning, we’ve bounced back from worse much faster than that after some of those awful training sessions, and that was under bare minimum medical attention.’

Winter snorted. ‘Honestly, we would have healed faster if they took us out of the coma within the first few days, but Steve was excessively concerned with the brain damage.’

‘How is Steve?’ he fearfully asked.

‘Welllllll,’ past-Bucky drawled. ‘The drug induced coma made everything really fuzzy for us, but we have the general gist of what went on. He’s been in a right state, if we’re all being honest.’

‘He’s fine physically, but there’s been a lot of tears and a lot of yelling,’ Winter expanded. ‘Not really at us, but he’s set a record for how many nurses he’s made cry these last two weeks.’

‘That bad?’ Bucky winced, making a mental note to send everyone on the Medical staff a nice gift basket, especially if they let him go now that he was awake.

‘Yeah, be glad you missed it. It was really awkward,’ past-Bucky admitted with a frown. ‘Let’s see, what else did you miss… oh! Wanda is taking care of the cats in her apartment because Steve’s been spending most of his time by our bedside. Peter decided to continue his tutoring here and will stay at the Tower on the weekdays and go back to his Aunt on the weekends if he isn’t too busy.’

‘Good,’ Bucky sighed, relieved by Peter’s difficult but brave decision (and the fact that his children were being watched by someone responsible… he loved Steve, but after growing up with no pets due to his allergies, he wasn’t sure the other man was ready for the responsibility of being a full-time single Cat Dad just yet; Aunt Wanda would be the ideal babysitter for whenever Bucky was out of commission, at least for now).

‘But you missed his birthday,’ past-Bucky whispered sadly.

‘f*ck! Make a mental note to buy him an extra gift once we get out of this hellhole. Can’t believe he’s already eighteen… they grow up so fast don’t they?’

‘Done, we’ll brainstorm ideas later along with the gift baskets for the Medical team. Also, Thor stopped by when Steve was here and mentioned he wanted us on the Team,’ Winter casually added like he was discussing the weather.

‘WHAT!’ Bucky hissed, thankfully managing to keep the thought in his head, but he still turned to stare at Winter in shock.

‘It did not go over well,’ past-Bucky smirked, which confused Bucky because that was definitely not a pleasant statement to be happy about. ‘Did you know Steve thought Thor was flirting with us?’

‘WHAT!’ Bucky said again, this time with a scoff. ‘I kinda got the vibe he was insinuating that, but I refused to believe it. That man has taken one too many hits to the head, I swear.’

‘That’s what I said,’ past-Bucky giggled, his eyes bright with mirth. ‘Seems like he must be the one with the severe concussion.’

Winter pouted. ‘But if that was the case, then does that mean Thor was not going to show us his rare weapons collection? I guess it’s a good thing Steve chucked that shield at us after all.’

Past-Bucky waved his hand dismissively. ‘Doesn’t matter at this point. Even if Thor still wanted to hang out with us alone, there is clearly no way in hell Steve would ever allow that.’

‘We could use the vents,’ Winter shrugged, holding his free hand up defensively when he had two pairs of eyes glaring at him. ‘Not to hang out with him, but to break in and see the weapons for ourselves. Maybe permanently borrow a few.’

Bucky and past-Bucky shared a considering look. ‘Not a bad plan.’

‘Incoming!’ Winter warned, and his two past-selves disappeared as the door to his room slammed open with a bang.

Steve stumbled in with wet hair, looking as if he’d thrown on the first clothes he’d come across (Bucky’s long sleeve Hufflepuff shirt Steve gifted him and what looked like his black yoga pants he bought when he went shopping with the kids… they had pockets, so Bucky couldn’t blame Steve for choosing them).

“Buck, oh my god, I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up, they kicked me out literally minutes before you opened your eyes,” Steve hurriedly explained, taking a seat in the chair on Bucky’s right after dragging it next to his bedside. “Something about personal hygiene and a need for better eating habits.”

“Hi, Stevie,” he answered with a dopey grin, feeling the effects of the drugs now that he wasn’t distracted by his former-selves canoodling in front of him. He lifted himself into a seated position, Steve leaning over to help arrange his mound of pillows accordingly. “Je vais bien.”

“Hey, Buck,” Steve grinned softly, a pink blush forming on his cheeks. “Back to the French again?”

“Tu m'enlèves le souffle. Je suis tellement amoureux de toi,” he confessed, relieved by the confused furrowing of Steve’s eyebrows. “I like speaking French sometimes.”

“Well, I have no idea what you’re saying, but it sounds nice,” Steve admitted frankly.

“I said, ‘I see you’re stealing my clothes now,’” he smoothly lied, raising an eyebrow at Steve’s attire. "I hope you don't stretch my shirt out, though."

Steve frowned, glancing down at his outfit. “Huh, seems like it. Karma’s a bitch, I guess.” He waved a hand dismissively. "It'll go back to normal once it's washed, it'll be fine, Buck."

‘WAIT!’ past-Bucky screeched, shocking Bucky so badly he flinched in surprise. ‘Don’t be fooled!’

‘He DIED, and we are ANGRY,’ Winter finished with a growl.

“You died,” Bucky suddenly hissed, jabbing his mended finger into the blonde’s shoulder. “How DARE you!”

“I’m sorry?” Steve apologized uncomfortably. He paused for a moment and then sat up ramrod straight, pulling his shoulders back as he glared at Bucky. “Actually, I’m not. I will never sit back and watch you get hurt when I can do something about it.”

“But you getting hurt in my place is NOT an acceptable alternative,” Bucky shouted, the painful memories suddenly rushing back to him. He didn’t bother to lower his voice. “You f*cking died, Steve. Your heart stopped, and you weren’t breathing, and we did CPR, and you still weren’t breathing, and we kept doing it, but your heart still refused to beat, and do you know what the f*cking felt like? To see you dead in front of me?”

Steve nodded his head, his lips pressed together in a thin line, but he remained silent.

“Okay, fine, you saw me fall and thought I was dead, but you didn’t actually witness me die. So take that feeling from the train and multiply it by a thousand, Steve, because that’s what it felt like in that moment. You died, and I will never forgive myself for being the reason.”

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Steve whispered, his head bowed as he stared at his clasped hands. “But I couldn’t sit there and watch you get electrocuted like you were back with Hydra, Buck, you gotta understand. I promised myself I’d never let you suffer anything close to what they did to you ever again.”

“Thank you, but I would have been fine,” Bucky dismissed, internally mortified by how he’d frozen in terror at the crackling electricity over his head (but still completely sure he would have survived the strike without dying in the process).

“Would you have been, though?” Steve challenged, raising his head and locking eyes with Bucky.

“Je préfère mourir que vivre sans toi,” he answered instead, distracting his friend by reaching out and entwining their fingers together. He ran his thumb along Steve’s knuckles, smiling softly at how pale Steve’s hand was in comparison to his own. “When can I break out of this place? I miss my children.”

“They’re in good hands with Wanda,” Steve evaded which made Bucky tense nervously (f*ck, was he going to have to escape through the vents in the middle of the night? That sounded like a lot of effort). “Want to watch Mulan? I brought my laptop.”

“I want you to take me home,” Bucky whined with a pout, staring innocently at Steve. “Please, Stevie? I’m not gonna be able to get any rest here, you know how much I hate medical facilities and doctors. We can watch Mulan at home with the babies, and I won’t move off the couch til I feel a hundred percent better, even if it takes days.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed calculatingly. “You promise?”

“I solemnly swear,” Bucky vowed with an angelic smile.

‘That I am up to no good,’ past-Bucky finished with a flourish.

Steve sighed but nodded his head in acceptance, gently removing his hand from Bucky’s and standing up. Steve hesitated for a moment before quickly leaning back down, pressing a firm kiss squarely in the middle of Bucky’s cheek. “Alright, but let me get the doctor to check you over first.”

“Okay!” Bucky squeaked in agreement, internally shrieking wordlessly in his head when Steve walked away.

‘Please tell me I did not hallucinate that moment,’ he asked when he gained some semblance of calm.

‘If you did, then we all did,’ Winter affirmed while past-Bucky loudly squealed in the background.

‘It’s one thing for us to peck him on the lips as a thank you,’ past-Bucky accurately summarized Bucky’s thought process. ‘But it’s a whole other thing for him to initiate a kiss, even just to the cheek.’

For some odd reason, Bucky assumed the next few days would suck even though he felt fine overall, especially since Steve and him had gotten into a heated argument before they’d even left the Medical floor (Steve insisted Bucky should use a wheelchair to go the short distance from the hospital bed to the elevator and then up to their floor, threatening to carry him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes if Bucky refused… Bucky fiercely argued his legs worked just fine, thank you very much, but Steve was a stubborn jerk, so they compromised with Bucky’s use of a cane. He considered it a win primarily because Steve didn’t bring anyone to tears this time, and he still could leave under his own power).

Bucky was clever, though, and immediately went to bed as soon as they got home since it was already dark outside, instructing Winter to wake him up the second he was sure Steve was deeply asleep… he quietly crept into the shower upon waking, enjoying the hot water cleansing his skin and the knowledge he successfully avoided an uncomfortable debate with Steve about Bucky’s ability to shower on his own.

But Bucky’s pessimistic prediction was mostly incorrect - Steve embraced his role as Bucky’s caretaker with ferocious determination, never once arguing or complaining (at least not within Bucky’s hearing rage) despite how fussy Bucky became simply because he enjoyed the attention.

‘Why did we want to become independent again?’ he asked his former-selves on the seventh full day of bed rest, quietly supervising Steve who was finally building the cat towers and condo.

Bucky had spent the first two days passed out in his bed, somehow beyond exhausted despite being in a medically induced coma for two weeks; he still woke up on his own at regular intervals for food, shoveling whatever Steve put down in front of him quickly into his mouth before dragging himself right back into his room with a mumbled ‘thank you, good night’.

But the following two days were rough for both men, a vicious thunderstorm rolling in that had Bucky facing the possibility of his first major setback in months. Bucky secluded himself in his room in a haze, finding it difficult to gather the energy to leave his safe space even to make it the short distance to the living room. Every time he closed his eyes, he kept seeing Steve’s lifeless form on the gym floor, his brain nonstop whispering all the ways in which he was a failure and listing the multitude of reasons why he should be terminated.

With his eyes open in the darkened room, all he could see were the lightning strikes through his closed blinds, making him feel as if he were transported back to the chair Hydra used to scramble his memories. Steve offered to sit with him, but Bucky refused to undo the lock on the door, not wanting the other man to see him in such a pitiful state. Winter and past-Bucky kept him company, both processing their own feelings over the event and generally remained silent. Bucky didn’t sleep or eat for those two days, his body accepting his lack of self-care only because he’d done nothing more than rest the last few days before the storm.

By some miracle (or Steve’s creative problem solving), Grant showed up in his vent on the evening of the fourth day, meowing angrily until Bucky opened the vent grate to let him in. After cuddling with him for a few hours, Grant started scratching on his bedroom door to be let out; Bucky attempted to put him back in the vent, but Grant quickly jumped out and returned to aggressively scratching the door. When Bucky finally opened it for him, a worried Steve was right on the other side, his hand poised to knock. The blonde had stared wide-eyed at him for a few seconds before offering to make him dinner, and as Bucky opened his mouth to politely decline, a deafening boom of thunder shook their apartment, sending Bucky careening forward into Steve’s arms, the shock of the moment finally pushing his emotions over the edge. He sobbed loudly in Steve’s arms for what felt like hours, the blonde slowly sinking to the floor and wrapping Bucky fully in his arms, at times crying with him as the emotional turmoil of the last few weeks caught up with them.

Bucky slept through the night, finally, held protectively in Steve’s arms in the hallway of his bedroom. A part of him was embarrassed over his breakdown, but since he actually felt better the next morning (at least once he took a warm shower and washed all the gross tears and snot off himself), he decided it was fine (besides, Steve rarely cried, and Bucky could all but guarantee the man needed the emotional release as much as he did).

He spent day five on the couch with Steve, catching up on their TV shows and enjoying watching his friend cook increasingly elaborate meals for him so he could ‘gain his strength back.’ He also sent expensive self-care 'Thank You Gift Baskets' to all of the Stark Medical team (with some help from Pepper and Maria on customizing each one and shamelessly charging it on Steve’s credit card). Using his newly learned online shopping skills courtesy of a two hour long phone call with Wanda, Bucky bought Peter his own matching Hufflepuff shirt/leggings, an elaborate camera, a photo printer, and photo album for his birthday (sent directly to his floor, and signed with a card from both him, Steve, and the cats) since the teen had shown interest in the electronics when Bucky was buying his own.

On day six, Winter declared them to be at 100% functionality, but Bucky decided to keep that fact to himself since Steve still seemed to be fully invested in his caretaker mode. Bucky proclaimed the overcast day to be perfect for a Self-Care day of his own; he sharpened all the knives in the apartment, cleaned his guns (while making Steve turn away so he didn’t see his hiding spots), bathed and groomed all four cats with Steve’s assistance, did a face mask, a hair mask, filed his nails, and had a long foot soak which ended with a pleasant foot/lower leg massage from Steve (Bucky offered to return the favor, but Steve declined, claiming his feet were nowhere near as well taken care of as Bucky’s, and he wouldn’t allow Bucky to suffer through that while recovering from his “terrible” injuries).

A week after he was released, Bucky found himself comfortably sprawled on the couch, Steve diligently working in front of him, and Grant nestled safely in his lap (the kittens were spending time with ‘Aunt Wanda,’ who had acquired a litter box table and her own supply of food in preparation for their visits).

‘A moment of deliriousness,’ past-Bucky bemoaned in response to Bucky's question about why they wanted to be independent, him and Bucky appreciatively sighing as Steve’s muscles flexed enticingly with his struggles to put the roof on the three-story cat condo.

‘Or maybe it's because we want to go on missions?!’ Winter angrily reminded them. ‘This is nice and all, so indulge in it while you can, but we will get on that Team, so f*cking help me -’

‘Jeez, we were just joking,’ past-Bucky placated, cutting Winter off before he could build up steam into a full-blown rant.

“You’re doing great, pal,” Bucky applauded, giving Steve a thumbs up when he glanced over at Bucky.

“I feel like Tony could build a better condo than this piece of trash in five minutes,” Steve huffed, glaring at the offending condo. “From scratch! I swear these pieces don’t align and are just designed to slowly drive someone insane.”

“It had the highest rating on that fancy pet supplies website for rich people Stark recommended,” Bucky pointed out.

“And I’m sure most of those reviews were fake!” Steve threw his hands up in frustration. “Sam told me once that companies will give products to people for free in exchange for good reviews, can you believe that? It’s a f*cking scam, I bet that website did the same with this product.”

“I’m sure Wilson only knows that because he also contributes to the fake review epidemic,” Bucky muttered under his breath. Steve sighed, but didn’t respond. “I can take a look,” Bucky offered, moving to stand up. “I’m confident I can figure it out.”

“No!” Steve shouted, pointing the screw driver at him as he talked. “You’re on bed rest for the entire week, and you already exuded too much energy yesterday bathing the cats. I will figure this out on my own.”

“Just bring it over here so I don’t have to get up, then,” Bucky compromised, rolling his eyes. “You can take a break.”

Steve checked his watch and laughed. “I’m taking a break just in time for your 3pm snack, isn’t that convenient?”

Bucky shrugged, holding his arms wide. “What a coincidence. Coffee, too, please?”

“Yes, your highness.”

Steve moved the pieces (and the directions) within Bucky’s range, and Grant hopped off his lap to sit on the armrest, peering curiously at the items in front of them. Bucky flipped through the directions, waiting until Steve left the living room before standing up and setting to work.

“Ta-da!” Bucky announced when Steve walked back in, a plate piled high with homemade peanut butter cookies in one hand (from Peter’s Aunt May, who had been given the full rundown on the Tower and its occupants before Peter was allowed to drop out of his regular school. She had decided Bucky and Steve needed spoiling, bless her), and Bucky’s favorite coffee in the other.

Steve’s mouth dropped open in shock. “How the f*ck?! I’ve been struggling for a goddamn HOUR, and it’s been literally seven minutes.”

Bucky chuckled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “You’re artistic, I’m more mechanically and architecturally inclined. Could you paint the house before they use it, please? I think that’d be a nice touch.”

“Anything you want, Buck,” Steve easily agreed, sitting down on Bucky’s right and holding the plate of cookies towards him first. “Got a design in mind?”

“Something obnoxious and weird,” he immediately answered with a grin. “But still aesthetically pleasing.”

Steve snorted. “Alright, but you can't peek until I’m done.”

Bucky nodded and quickly inhaled his share of the cookies, washing it down with the delicious coffee and resolutely ignoring Steve’s raised eyebrow - if he wasn’t used to Bucky (sophisticatedly) scarfing his food at this point, then that was his problem.

“Tired?” Steve asked when he saw Bucky stifle a yawn behind his hand, shifting to get up from the couch.

Bucky reached out, gently holding Steve’s arm to prevent him from moving. “Nope. But let’s lay down and relax for a bit? You worked hard today.”

“You taking care of me, now?” Steve questioned with a laugh, but complied with Bucky’s request.

He waited patiently until Steve arranged himself comfortably on his back, resting his head on the armrest Grant wasn’t occupying. Bucky then laid on his side, squeezing into the remaining space (their couch was wider than average, but with someone as broad as Steve laying flat on his back, there was still only a little bit of room left), his back pressed against the couch. He pillowed his head on Steve’s wide chest, the other man’s left arm wrapped snugly around his middle. “Always.”

“You can nap if you want,” Steve offered, lightly trailing his fingers up and down Bucky’s flesh arm. “I’ll put a show on.”

“I’m not tired,” he grumbled, glaring at his friend who unaffectedly grinned in response. “I wanna stay like this for a bit. Feels like we haven’t spent time together in ages, just talking like we used to back in the day, ya know? I missed this… missed you.”

“Believe me, I missed you more,” Steve whispered, his expression earnest. “At least you were unconscious for those two weeks.”

“I can still miss you even when I’m unconscious,” Bucky childishly argued, sticking his tongue out. “But I meant even before that.”

Grant captured Bucky’s attention moments later, jumping off the armrest and slowly creeping forward to start exploring the new cat condo. Bucky fondly smiled as he watched his baby climb in and out of the rooms, his long, fluffy tail flicking excitedly behind him.

‘Our precious, flawless son,’ past-Bucky cooed. ‘He’s so brave, look at him investigating everything like the inquisitive and intelligent being he is.’

‘A true warrior,’ Winter added proudly. ‘And think of how far he’s come since we first found him.’

“What was my Pa like?” Bucky abruptly asked, inspired by his past-selves’ comments about Grant. “I remember him a bit, but not as much as I do my Ma and sisters… and I also wanna hear it from your perspective, if you don’t mind talking about it.”

‘Well, damn, do you not appreciate my perspective anymore?’ past-Bucky loudly complained.

‘Aren’t you curious to hear how Steve views things?’ Bucky shot back right away, and past-Bucky sighed, but remained silent.

Steve seemed surprised by the random question, but nodded his head in agreement. “I’ll talk to you about anything you want, Buck. He was a good man, loved his family more than anything, and it showed. Came across as the strong, silent, and brooding type, but when you got to know him, he was really easy going and funny. Anytime you had a problem, he’d always start with, ‘Buck up champ,’ and then laugh loudly at his own joke until you smiled... and then he’d actually give good advice or fix whatever was wrong.”

“It wasn’t a smile, it was a grimace because I was so embarrassed because of how lame it was,” Bucky griped, wrinkling his nose.

“It still makes me laugh anytime I think about it. But, Bucky, seriously… you were his pride and joy,” Steve quietly explained, his gaze far away. “Most people assumed it was cuz you were the only boy and also the firstborn, plus the two of you were outnumbered drastically in your house. But it was cuz you both were the same type of nerdy under your ‘cool’ exterior, and you absolutely idolized him.”

‘Hm, I guess that’s true,’ past-Bucky agreed after a moment. ‘Never really thought about it, to be honest.'

“You thought I was cool, Rogers?” Bucky peered up at his friend through his dark eyelashes, a coy smile forming on his face.

“Absolutely not,” Steve denied, yet the blush forming on his cheeks told a different story. “I knew the truth, but that’s what everyone else thought. He used to take us into his shop on the weekends when we were teenagers under the guise of teaching us everything there was to know about cars, but you two spent most of that time discussing every fantasy and sci-fi book and film under the sun.”

‘And Steve would sit off to the side with his sketchbook and draw us or a scene from whatever book or movie we were talking about that day,’ past-Bucky recalled, his tone laced with nostalgia. ‘It’s a damn shame he doesn’t still have those sketchbooks, he had some good works in them.’

“Pa would love all the media options in the future. So many interesting books and movies these days,” Bucky sighed wistfully before his thoughts took a darker turn; although he felt bad thinking it, Bucky was thankful Steve was the only one left to see the person he’d become… he can’t imagine how horrified his family would be if they could see him now. “Bet he wouldn’t be too impressed with how his pride and joy turned out, though.”

To his surprise, Steve let out a bark of laughter so loud it caused Bucky to flinch in alarm.

“Ow,” he pouted, glaring at Steve for once again damaging his eardrums.

“Sorry,” Steve apologized, his expression sheepish. He lightly patted Bucky’s ear consolingly. “But seriously, you could do no wrong in his eyes, and I absolutely do not believe he would change his stance on that no matter what you did under Hydra’s control, especially because it wasn't your fault. Your Ma was stricter and was the one who usually disciplined you because he’d literally let you get away with anything… though your sisters would gang up on you if you got too out of hand. Honestly, I can only remember one instance where your Pa was firm with you.”

“What happened?” he asked before past-Bucky could advise him against saying anything.

‘Nothing good,’ past-Bucky forewarned. ‘Though, I guess it doesn’t matter much at this point.’

“I don’t really know,” Steve admitted, his brows furrowed while he tried to recall the memory. “You never told me the full story. We were about eleven at the time, and it was one of those winters where I was really sick for most of it, and everyone thought I was gonna die any day.”

“But you didn’t, because you’re stubborn and wanted to prove them wrong,” Bucky smirked knowingly.

“Exactly,” Steve chuckled. “But you went back to school after Christmas break, and I was still on bed rest…usually when I was sick, you would bring me your notes and any homework I’d missed, and then we’d hang out until it got dark, and your Ma made you go home for supper. But for those two weeks I couldn’t go to school, you would drop my stuff off and go back home right away, saying your Ma needed help while never explaining what you had to do. And you moved strangely, like you’d been smacked repeatedly on your rear with a belt, which your folks never used on you.”

Bucky adopted his best innocent look. “Well, duh. I was a good boy.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Uh huh. But one day out of the blue, you decided you were gonna run away, so you showed up to my house all in a tizzy, saying you hated your Pa and wouldn’t live under his ‘tyrannical rule’ any longer. My Ma absolutely adored you and also wrongly assumed I would talk you down from your plan, so she let you stay the weekend... I'm pretty sure she told your mom where you were, though, cuz they were super close. But my Ma ended up putting her foot down when she realized we were both planning to run away together.”

‘Admittedly, it wasn’t our best plan considering Steve got sick all the time,’ past-Bucky grimaced, showing him the montage of relevant memory snippets.

Bucky snorted at the end of the clips. “And I never told you what he did to upset me so much?”

“No,” Steve said, squeezing his arm tighter around Bucky’s middle. “Truthfully, your Pa didn’t like me that much at first. He never really said anything specific, but he didn’t accept me the same way the rest of your family did until years later, so I assumed he must have told you that you were better off being friends with literally anyone else… which was a fair point, truly.”

Reaching up with his free hand, Bucky flicked Steve in the forehead. “You are the greatest friend I could ever hope to have, stop that nonsense. But you are somewhat on the right track, actually. After you almost died for like the hundredth time in the six years we’d been friends, he essentially said, ‘I know you like being friends with Steve, but he’s likely not going to reach his 18th birthday, let alone any birthday after that, so it’s best you start distancing yourself now so you don’t get hurt when he dies.’”

Steve whistled softly, his eyes wide. “Good lord, I can see how that didn’t go over well with you.”

“Understatement of the f*cking century, pal,” Bucky bitterly replied. “I kind of dismissed it at first, like, thanks but no thanks. Then, he tried to force me to join the boxing team at school to make new friends. I refused, because I hated most of those guys cuz they always picked on you. Then came the yelling and then the beatings for a couple of weeks because he was sick of my attitude, which to be fair, I was really mean to everyone in the house during this whole time period. I told him I hated him after the last round with the belt and ran to your house...ironically, it was me running away that made him change his tune on everything.”

Steve raised an eyebrow in surprise. “How so?”

(“I don’t get it, son. You care so much about that damn boy that you’ll run away from your loving family and home instead of giving up being friends with him? I’m not trying to be mean when I say he’s probably only got a few years left, I’m just telling you the genuine truth,” his Pa said with a thoughtful frown after carrying him home from Steve’s house, Bucky flailing and sobbing the entire way. “Bucky, you’re a smart kid, I know you understand where I’m coming from.”

“I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU SAY!” Bucky screamed, tears and snot covering his flushed face. “He’s my best friend, Pa, and I’m not gonna give him up for a stupid reason like that. When we first met, I said he was stuck with me for forever, and I MEANT it, I did, and I’m not gonna go back on my word. So if he dies young, then I’m gonna be by his side until the very end and be thankful I had the privilege of knowing someone as wonderful as Steve Rogers.”

“Son…”

Bucky sniffed, but stood up straight, rolling his shoulders back and tilting his chin up defiantly. “But he ain’t gonna die young, cuz I’m gonna protect him, I swear it on my own life. Besides, Stevie’s stronger than all of us, you’ll see, along with everyone else who doubts it, too!" He jutted his bottom lip out, trying to force back another wave of tears. "Please, Pa, I don’t want to be friends with anyone else, I just want Stevie.”)

“He realized how serious I was,” Bucky half-shrugged, a smug grin forming on his face. “And look at you now, huh? Outlived everyone in that damn neighborhood.”

“Not everyone,” Steve grinned, gently tickling Bucky’s side until he squirmed and swatted Steve’s hand away with a giggle. “It’s funny, too, cuz he basically adopted me into the family after that night.”

‘Thankfully,’ past-Bucky snorted. ‘That was such a dramatic time, good heavens.’

“You’ll find that I can be very persuasive, Rogers,” Bucky smirked mischievously (but declined to acknowledge that Steve was the one who most consistently resisted his persuasions, of f*cking course). “Did you talk to Thor?”

Steve blinked at the unexpected topic change, staring blankly at the ceiling for several moments before pulling a face. “Sort of? He came to see you right after they wheeled you in from surgery to fix your lung, and I maybe kind of went off on him?”

‘Understatement,’ past-Bucky cackled. ‘Fought the drugs hard to witness as much of that moment as we could.’

‘It was dramatic,’ Winter noted fondly. ‘Steve yelled some impressive threats, very imaginative. I was truly proud to hear them all.’

“Why did you go off on him?” Bucky naively asked.

“Bucky, seriously?” Steve groaned, covering his face with his free hand; Bucky lifted the hand off Steve’s face, entwining their fingers together instead, refusing to allow Steve to hide from this conversation. “His recklessness almost KILLED you, and then he came to see you in the hospital, which seemed nice at first…until the first thing out of his mouth was that he thinks you should be on the Team. Didn’t even apologize for hurting you and causing you to be there in the first place.”

Bucky squinted curiously up at his friend. “Steve, I almost killed him, why would he apologize for defending himself?”

“Uh, what?” Steve asked, his brows furrowed. “Thor said you both kept fighting after I went down until you guys agreed to call it a truce when Wanda realized I wasn’t breathing.”

‘Ah.. you know, things are starting to make sense now,’ past-Bucky murmured. ‘I think Thor and the kids must have agreed on a story to keep us from looking bad, and Thor must have laid low for a few hours while he cleaned up and some of his more obvious wounds healed.’

‘Well, sh*t,’ Bucky groaned, wishing he could rewind the last five minutes and start over.

“I thought you were dead,” Bucky hesitantly explained, knowing it would be better for Steve to hear it from him rather than finding out the truth some other way; things like this never stayed secret for long when you lied about them. “I basically went feral, even Wanda’s magic couldn’t hold me, and I beat him into a bloody pulp. Snapped out of it when Peter caught my metal arm… and by the way, we need to work on his training plan, because that kid is strong. But then Thor was all ‘do it, kill a god, I dare you’ but I was all ‘no, I don’t do that anymore, also, sorry for pummeling you into the ground,’ and then the adrenaline faded and I realized I was actually the one who got my ass handed to me.”

‘Regardless of the amount of injuries sustained, it would have been considered a win if you actually killed him,’ Winter stressed. ‘We did well, don’t downplay our accomplishments!’

Steve blinked, his mouth forming a little ‘o’ in surprise. “I’m… I’m upset they all lied to me, but I appreciate you telling me the truth. It appears my assumption of why he wanted you on the Team was either far off base or at least not his main reason.”

Bucky nervously swallowed and tried to shift even closer to Steve, tucking his face comfortably into the side of Steve’s neck. He closed his eyes with a soft sigh. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

‘You little liar,’ past-Bucky giggled affectionately.

Steve’s skin suddenly heated, and Bucky smiled as his own face warmed from its contact with Steve’s neck. “Umm, ugh, fine since you were truthful, I will be, too.” Steve paused, searching for the right words. “I thought he wanted you on the Team because he was trying to get with you. Like physically, romantically, however you wanna describe it.”

Past-Bucky already told him about Steve’s theory, but to hear his friend say the words directly to him sent his heart racing, and Bucky was glad Steve couldn’t see his face. On one hand, he was ecstatic Thor wanted him on the Team; it should work in his favor to have a founding member of the Avengers supporting his inclusion. But to have Steve sit here and say a guy was trying to get in Bucky’s pants frightened him to the core; was he on the verge of figuring out Bucky’s longest kept secret? How would Steve react to the truth he’d kept hidden for decades? Did he want Steve to know so Bucky didn’t have to hide any longer?

Bucky didn’t know what to do and regretted saying anything in the first place, so he went with what he knew best.

Evasion.

“What a silly idea, Stevie.”

“Buck, come on!” Steve scoffed indignantly. “Anyone who has eyes could see the way he was flirting with you, and you were definitely flirting back.” Steve pitched his voice higher. “‘Oh, it has been claimed that I am the best assassin in history.’”

‘There’s nothing wrong with self-pride,’ Winter sniffed indignantly.

“I don’t sound like that!” Bucky whined. “Besides, did I lie? No.”

Steve ignored him. “And all that French! And the hand kiss? And then he invited you up to his room to look at his ‘personal collection’!? That’s certainly a euphemism for something else, I can all but guarantee it. I don’t think I’m wrong about this, Bucky, no way.”

‘He’s definitely wrong,’ past-Bucky refuted. ‘Were we a bit starstruck? Sure. But flirting with a god? A god flirting with us!? No way, not us.’

Bucky opened his eyes and leaned back far enough to look Steve directly in the eye. He brought their clasped hands up to his face and placed a firm, lingering kiss on the top of Steve’s hand. “Tout ce que je vois, c’est toi.”

Steve swallowed, his blue eyes wide as he stared at Bucky. “Um, what… what does that mean?”

Bucky smirked slyly. “It means, Rogers, you wouldn’t know flirting if it smacked you right in the face.”

Steve rolled his eyes and tried to yank his hand out of Bucky’s grip, but the former-assassin refused to let go. “Ha, ha, very funny.”

“I thought it was funny,” Bucky snickered, amused by his lie; his movement caused a chunk of hair to fall annoyingly over his face, and he tried to flip his hair back, only to whine in aggravation when a larger piece fell forward instead.

“Here, let me,” Steve laughed, removing his arm from Bucky’s waist and smoothing the offending hair back. He kept running his fingers gently through Bucky’s hair until all of it was combed neatly off his face.

“Thanks, Stevie,” Bucky grinned, looking back into Steve’s shining eyes.

Steve wordlessly stared back at him, and Bucky felt the tension in the air thicken the longer their gazes stayed connected; he watched, heart rapidly beating, as Steve eyes flickered down to his lips and then back up again, his tongue peeking out from his mouth to carefully wet his bottom lip.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Steve lifted his head up, his eyes searching Bucky’s face; he must have found what he was looking for, because he continued to raise his head up until his lips were mere centimeters from Bucky’s, close enough that their noses were touching.

‘Do it, coward,’ Winter hissed challengingly. ‘Lean forward.’

‘No! Steve has to make the first move,’ past-Bucky countered, his tone alarmed. ‘We need him to lead on this so we know where the boundaries are; we CANNOT mess this up, or it could ruin everything. We could be reading it totally wrong, who the f*ck knows. Play it safe, buddy.’

“I know we haven’t said it a lot since we were kids,” Steve whispered, his voice quiet even from such a short distance away. “But I love you, Bucky. More than anything in the world, and more than words could ever express.”

“I love you too, Steve,” Bucky murmured in response, his voice thick with emotion; Steve was right, they didn’t say those three words often, mostly because they both knew it without needing to say it aloud, but it was still a wondrous thing to hear.

Steve tilted his head and closed the distance between them, his lips pressing firmly against Bucky’s for one, two, three seconds and then pulling slightly back. His hand came up to cup Bucky’s face, and he ran his thumb affectionately down his cheek, smiling softly.

Bucky grinned back, brushing their noses together. Feeling brave, he leaned forward to steal a kiss, allowing their lips to connect for longer this time. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he admitted, his own voice barely above a whisper. Bucky kissed Steve’s forehead, and then his nose, and then pressed his lips firmly to each cheek. “And I’m so happy we’re friends.”

Steve’s eyes widened, and he swallowed quickly before responding. “Um, yeah, totally, me too. Best friends forever.”

‘Good job, future-self,’ past-Bucky softly applauded. ‘You read it right, played it safe, and everything worked out.’

Bucky beamed at the other man, his smile so wide it was already starting to hurt. He pressed another kiss to Steve’s plump lips, basking in the feeling of how well their mouths fit together, something he never imagined he’d ever experience. “This is nice, Stevie, we should do this more often.”

“Sure,” Steve agreed, his eyes darting away from Bucky’s face. “But maybe only when we’re alone? I don’t think other people would understand.”

Bucky’s heart dropped, and the smile slipped from his face at the other man’s words.

‘He’s ashamed to be seen with us like this.’

‘He’s ashamed of us,’ past-Bucky gasped at the same time.

‘Steve’s the one playing it safe now,’ Winter disagreed, his voice loud in Bucky’s head to be heard over his internal freak-out. ‘Doesn’t this kind of thing between two guys upset people? He’s protecting us, even though it’s our job to protect him.’

‘Well…’ past-Bucky considered. ‘Winter could be right. Plus, wouldn’t we rather have this than nothing at all?’

‘Good points, both of you,’ he agreed, feeling slightly better by their rationalization of the situation.

‘Besides,’ Winter scoffed. ‘We are nothing to be ashamed of, and don’t you two f*cking forget it.’

“Okay,” Bucky agreed, realizing he hadn’t said anything yet. He bit his lip, worried that he’d suddenly made it weird, his eyes focused somewhere on Steve’s chin while he mentally berated himself for ruining something that’s barely started.

Steve reached his thumb across Bucky’s face, gently tugging his bottom lip free. He placed a featherlight kiss on his lower lip, then moved up to his top lip, before finally connecting their lips together properly, causing Bucky to let out a small, blissful sigh.

They were interrupted by a loud ‘meow’ from the top of the couch; Bucky grunted in pain when Grant dropped heavily onto his side before scooting down to sit on Steve’s chest. He shoved his face under Bucky’s right arm so the two Super Soldiers had their arms encircling him, their hands still linked tightly together.

“I wanna take a nap now, Stevie,” Bucky declared, pressing a loving kiss to Grant’s head. He was legitimately tired now, but he also didn’t have the heart to push Grant off so he could keep kissing Steve (and it felt weird to kiss his friend with their child right there in their faces). The cat touched his nose to Bucky’s forehead in return before yawning widely and closing his eyes.

“Guess I’m taking one, too?” Steve lightly laughed. He carefully lifted his left arm up to brush a few errant locks of hair off Bucky’s face again, and then leaned forward, kissing him on the forehead. “Sleep well, Buck.”

“Love you, Stevie,” Bucky sleepily said, already drifting off.

‘I am enjoying this newfound propensity towards kisses,’ past-Bucky commented dreamily, and Bucky let out a soft sigh in agreement, before surrendering himself completely to slumber.

Bucky must have been more tired than he thought because when he suddenly woke with a start, he was nestled in the middle of his bed, the morning sun streaming through his window. Grant peacefully slept on a pillow next to Bucky’s head, but other than that, he woke up alone in his bed, which was strange. Sitting up in a stupor, his eyes scanned the rest of his bedroom, finally spotting past-Bucky and Winter seated together on Bucky’s nightstand, the pair looking out at the street below and whispering together.

‘You look like sh*t,’ Winter commented dryly, something Bucky found ironic since he wasn’t looking much better himself.

Grant opened an eye at Bucky's huff of annoyance, took one look at his dad, and bolted for the door.

‘No he does not!’ past-Bucky hissed at Winter, his back pressed against the other’s chest, the Soldier's metal arm wrapped around his waist.

And Bucky wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to such a sight of the two of them snuggled together, but he was happy the two were finally (mostly) getting along.

Past-Bucky turned to look at Bucky, a kind smile on his face. ‘You should go find Steve. It’ll make you feel better after that nightmare.’

Bucky nodded and forced his muscles to move, stumbling into the hallway with his eyes half closed. Turning to enter the living room, he ended up slamming against a brick wall, the force of the collision sending him flying backwards; he tried to reach out to grab onto something to keep himself upright but accidentally pulled the thing down on top of him instead.

“Oof,’ he grunted from the floor, wheezing as the heavy ‘wall’ landed on his chest.

“sh*t, I’m sorry, Buck,” Steve groaned from above him.

Bucky opened his eyes to see Steve’s blue ones staring concernedly back at him… apparently the brick wall he’d run into had been Steve’s muscular chest, the other Super Soldier turning the corner to go down the hall to Bucky’s room at the same time as Bucky had been turning into the living room.

Grant jumped unconcernedly from the couch onto Steve’s back before leaping over Bucky’s head, and Bucky tilted his head to watch the cat walk back into his room with a sassy swish of his tail.

“What a menace,” Bucky commented fondly, realizing his baby likely had run off earlier to go find Steve.

He glanced back at Steve; the other man was still sprawled across Bucky’s chest, staring worriedly down at him.

“You were crying,” Steve whispered worriedly, reaching out and delicately drying Bucky’s tears with his sleeve. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Bucky suddenly remembered why he’d been rushing into the living room in the first place, the horrific images and emotions from his nightmare flashing across his mind once more; Steve’s lifeless body staring unseeingly up at the ceiling of the gym, Bucky’s body covered completely in blood, Thor’s beaten and battered body on the ground next to him.

“You died,” Bucky croaked, his voice hoarse. “You died, and I killed Thor because he killed you. But then, I became immortal cuz I killed a god, so our souls never reunited again in our next lives. I had to live for eternity without you by my side, all the while knowing your soul was out there somewhere if only I could find you again. So, I searched and searched, and I did manage to find you once, believe it or not... but then you died a few weeks later cuz you were already pretty old, and I was forced to start my search all over again. It was awful.”

“Oh, Bucky, I’m sorry,” Steve said, his tone compassionate, but Bucky could see the confusion in his eyes.

“Because we’re soulmates, you know?” Bucky sniffed, a fresh wave of tears cascading down his cheeks. His words replayed in his head, and he quickly did damage control when he realized how crazy and clingy he sounded. “I mean, I’ve probably been, uh, watching too many random YouTube videos, but platonic soulmates exist, of course, and I feel like it was fate that we met again after being separated for seventy years. And when we first met as kids, I felt like I’d known you my entire life, ya know?”

“Like we were always destined to meet and stay together despite life always trying to rip us apart,” Steve quietly added, leaning down and dropping gentle kisses under Bucky’s watery eyes.

Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve’s bulky frame and closed his eyes, trying to regain control over his emotional spiral, but it was hard when he felt Steve kissing his eyelids, then trailing his lips down to kiss Bucky’s cheeks next.

Bucky giggled in surprise when Steve lightly bit his cheek before moving his head to the side and nibbling on the other one.

“Biting me again, Rogers?” Bucky asked huskily, his arms tightening around Steve’s back.

“They’re just so cute, I couldn’t resist,” Steve teased, firmly kissing each cheek over the spots he’d bitten. “And I knew it would make you smile.”

“And you were right. But now it’s my turn,” Bucky smirked, earning a gasp from Steve when he leaned up and kissed his neck lightly before biting the exact spot where he left a hickey all those weeks ago (but not hard enough to leave a mark…this time).

“You a vampire now, Buck?” Steve questioned breathlessly, his eyes darkening when Bucky started kissing down the other side of his neck.

“Just getting my revenge for all those times you bit me during our brawls,” Bucky casually remarked, keeping his tone light despite his internal screaming. “Cute but deadly, ya know?”

“Yeah?” Steve brushed Bucky’s hair back off his face, which had Bucky smiling at the sweet gesture… until Steve grabbed a handful and pulled, Bucky’s head tilting back with a gasp. The blonde leaned down, teasingly kissing across Bucky’s exposed neck and causing Bucky’s heart rate to spike in return. Steve pulled the collar of Bucky’s shirt to the side and found the spot he was looking for, sucking a hickey into Bucky’s tanner skin, the former-assassin moaning in pleasure at the sensation.

“f*ck,” he groaned, his mind struggling to form a coherent thought. “Steve.”

“You like that, Buck?” He gripped Bucky’s chin and tilted his face the opposite direction, leaving a matching hickey on the other side of his body, near the spot where his metal arm attached to his shoulder, and dragging another breathless moan from Bucky’s lips. Steve’s voice dropped an octave or two lower and shivers ran down Bucky’s spine at the sound. “You like it when I pull your hair, like how I leave marks all over you and get a little rough, don’t you?”

“I, uh...yeah,” he shyly admitted, turning his head to the side to avoid looking at Steve and feeling his cheeks heat in embarrassment at his strong reactions. f*ck, why did he always have to make things weird!? Steve was going to realize any minute now that Bucky had feelings for him and end this arrangement immediately unless he could get his sh*t together. Friends don’t moan when other friends kiss them, that’s just f*cking creepy…why couldn’t he ever be normal?

Steve grabbed Bucky’s shoulders and sat back, lifting Bucky up off the floor; he ended up in Steve’s lap, the other man’s back pressed against the wall. A kiss was placed on Bucky’s forehead before strong arms wrapped securely around him, and Bucky tucked his heated face into Steve’s neck.

“You’re okay, Buck, just breathe,” Steve whispered, running his hand soothingly up and down Bucky’s back - Bucky hadn’t realized until Steve spoke just how fast his heart was racing (god, how mortifying).

Bucky waited until his breathing was back under control before sitting up fully; he jutted his bottom lip out, looking Steve directly in the eyes. “I’m hungry, Stevie.”

“Are you?” Steve asked, his eyes dropping lower and staying focused on Bucky’s lips.

“Yeah,” he pouted, wetting his bottom lip enticingly.

“I should fix that,” Steve said but didn’t move.

“You did say you were going to take care of me,” Bucky reminded him, loosely winding his arms around Steve’s neck.

“I did,” Steve nodded, and then thankfully ended the standoff by dragging Bucky into a heated kiss that stole his breath away.

But because Bucky’s life was one cosmic joke, they were interrupted, again; except this time it wasn’t a cat or someone’s cell phone, but the deafening sound of the Avengers Assemble alarm, the purple lights from hell causing Bucky to hiss in annoyance and tuck his face right back into Steve’s neck.

“f*ck,” Steve groaned, running his hand soothingly through Bucky’s hair. “Come on, Buck, gotta get up.”

“No,” Bucky steadfastly refused.

“Okay.”

To Bucky’s surprise, Steve stood up, taking Bucky with him and walking them both into Steve’s room. He allowed himself to be dropped onto the bed, knowing despite his wishes otherwise that Steve needed to go.

“Here,” Steve said, tossing a pair of black joggers and a long-sleeved red Henley at him that Bucky swore came from his own closet.

Bucky moved to the side and quickly changed (he was thankful the shirt covered his hickies, though they would be gone within the hour anyways), throwing his dirty clothes in Steve’s laundry basket since it all got washed together anyways. Steve kept the closet door partially open, and Bucky resolutely kept his eyes lowered to the floor, because he wasn’t a stalker okay; it was all for naught when Steve walked out in only his uniform pants while still pulling his shirt on, Bucky getting a front row view of the other man’s impressive shoulders, chest, and abs.

‘Dear lord,’ past-Bucky gasped.

‘Friendly reminder we’ve missed a lot of f*cking workouts lately,’ Winter bitchily added.

“Alright there, Rogers?” Bucky taunted, hoping his voice sounded steady. “You look like you’re struggling.”

“Why can’t I have a uniform that conforms itself around me, like Tony’s suit?” Steve huffed, finally pulling his top completely down.

“Life’s unfair,” Bucky shrugged, grabbing the shield and securing it on Steve’s back.

“Will you be okay while I’m gone?” Steve quietly asked with a frown. “I can always sit this -”

“I’ll be fine, Steve. Probably just going to hang out with Wanda and Peter if they’re around, or read a book up here if not,” Bucky assured his friend, stepping closer and placing his hand on Steve’s cheek. “You focus on the mission and coming home safe, okay?”

“Alright, if you’re sure,” Steve answered, squinting at Bucky like the other man would suddenly begin listing a thousand reasons why Steve should stay or why he should take Bucky along with him; Bucky leaned forward, placing a chaste kiss on Steve’s lips instead.

“I’m sure,” Bucky said, smiling softly at Steve before turning around and leading the other man to the elevator. “Come on, bub, time to go.”

He kept his distance from Steve as best he could in the small space during the ride up to the common area, remembering Steve’s comment about the importance of not acting any differently around the others. Besides, Steve seemed jittery enough as it was, tapping his foot against the floor and frequently crossing and uncrossing his arms.

“Are you okay?” Bucky questioned after the third cycle of Steve crossing and uncrossing his arms.

“Um... no,” Steve replied, looking up and meeting Bucky’s gaze head on.

Bucky opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but Steve shocked him by closing the short distance between them, grabbing Bucky’s face firmly with both of his hands and crushing their lips together.

Steve pulled back after a few seconds, chuckling softly and looking quite pleased with himself as he moved back to his original spot in the elevator. “Now I’m okay.”

“Uh, wow, that’s… good,” Bucky stammered, his eyes wide from the unexpected kiss.

“I have a surprise for you, James,” Wanda grinned brightly.

After seeing the others off on their mission (another trip to Florida since the creepy Frankenstein dinosaur ‘scientists’ didn’t seem to learn their lesson the first time), Wanda, Peter, and Bucky were seated comfortably in Wanda’s living room.

“I love surprises,” he answered naively at the same time Peter whined, “I want a surprise.”

“You can share this one if you’re interested, Peter,” Wanda smirked, which immediately had Peter’s Spidey senses telling him he had no interest whatsoever in whatever she had for Bucky.

“Uh, never mind,” Peter declined, staring warily at the briefcase she placed on the coffee table.

‘Weapons?’ Winter asked hopefully.

She popped the briefcase open, and for a second, Bucky thought Winter might get his wish until he realized he was looking at a piercing gun.

“Are you still interested?” she asked, carefully taking out all the pieces and spreading them out across the table. “I’ve done a lot of research, and I’m confident I can safely pierce your face. Or your ears if you wanna start small.” She opened a zipper section in the briefcase and pulled out a variety of different earrings, barbells, hoops, stud rings. “And there’s options for the jewelry, so you can pick what you like.”

“This is amazing, Wanda,” he answered, astounded by the lengths she went to in order to help him. “I’m definitely still interested, thank you so much… you have know idea how much you doing this means to me.”

She waved a hand dismissively, her cheeks tinged pink. “Do not thank me until you see the final result.”

“It’s going to look great!” Peter cheered, clapping his hands in excitement. Wanda held the piercing gun up, a mischievous look on her face as she stared Peter down, the other teen holding his hands up in alarm. “Aunt May would kill me, so thank you but no thank you.”

‘I will kill you if you put one of those barbaric things in our nose,’ Winter hissed, likely remembering the pain from the stupid fake piercings from a few weeks ago.

‘Yeah, no need to get all murdery,’ he spat back. ‘That didn’t even look good, and it hurt like a bitch, so no thanks.’

They started with a barbell in his right eyebrow, but Bucky and Peter both agreed it didn’t look right on his face (and to Bucky, the piercing felt weird for some reason). With the lessons from their trial with the fake jewelry in mind, Bucky suggested his lip next and decided a hoop would look better than a stud. When Wanda finished, he could tell by her satisfied grin that this would be what he stuck with (for now).

“Dude, not to be weird, but you look hot AF with a lip ring,” Peter complimented, staring at Bucky with wide eyes.

Wanda handed him the mirror. “I agree with Peter, but if you don’t like it, we can try something else.”

‘What do you guys think?’ he asked his former-selves, tilting his head in different directions.

“Love it!’ past-Bucky squealed excitedly. ‘Adds to your charm and mysteriousness for sure.’

‘I don’t understand the function, but it’s fine,’ Winter said, and Bucky accepted that as Winter’s version of approval.

‘So… can we still kiss with this in?’ past-Bucky shamelessly asked, sending heat rushing through Bucky’s body at the thought. ‘Because if not, then I don’t like it anymore.’

‘This is NOT the time for thoughts like that,’ Bucky vehemently screeched.

“I love it,” Bucky finally answered, grinning happily. He instantly felt comfortable with the extra piece of metal in his lip (which was the opposite of his experience with the eyebrow piercing), and he found himself mindlessly running his fingers over it with his flesh hand already (thankfully, it had healed quickly).

Peter frowned, his eyes darting away from Bucky’s face. “Um, not to be a Debbie Downer, but will you be able to change the ring out on your own, like for the plastic version or to a different type of ring?”

Bucky ran his hand through his hair, considering the question. “I hadn’t thought about how that would work, truth be told.”

“I can help,” Wanda offered.

“But you won’t always be around,” Bucky politely refuted. He debated if he should keep it for a few days and then take it out, but he felt guilty since Wanda went through so much effort to arrange all of this.

Peter snapped his fingers. “I got it! Mr. Stark has some scraps of vibranium in the lab which I can use to make you a new ring. At least that way you won’t accidentally crush it when changing it out.”

Steve, if he was being honest with himself (which he always tried to be), was freaking the f*ck out.

The last few days with Bucky had been nothing short of phenomenal.

Of course, waking up in the hospital a few weeks ago after their training battle with Thor had sucked, and then finding out Bucky was also in the hospital with far more serious injuries had been horrifying, but being able to dote on his friend as he recovered had been amazing (except day 3 and 4 where Bucky didn’t come out of his room, that part was exceptionally sh*tty). Spending time together, just the two of them with no interruptions, had Steve seriously debating the pros and cons of moving out of the Tower and finding a place in Brooklyn where they could live peacefully side by side in their own little microcosm.

But Steve, as he was known to do, had f*cking ruined everything by opening his big, fat, giant mouth and spilling his feelings all over the other man and then… and then, he had the audacity to kiss him like they were living in some ridiculous rom com movie. Bucky had quickly put him in his place with a swift rejection, all while being the sweetest, most perfect person on the planet and reaffirming he still viewed Steve as his best friend.

And when Bucky, poor, innocent, touch-starved Bucky, had viewed their kiss as an act between two friends and asked for more, did Steve correct him? He sure as f*ck didn’t, because he was a despicable human being who didn’t deserve to have such an angelic, innocent man as his best friend.

And to make matters epically worse, Steve had actually said straight to Bucky’s face that they should only kiss when they were alone at home because other people wouldn’t understand (which… they wouldn’t, but Bucky had looked so upset when Steve first said it, like he thought Steve was ashamed of him or something; Steve could NEVER be ashamed of Bucky, the idea was simply unfathomable).

Steve, because he had no self control when it came to Bucky, couldn’t even manage to follow his own self-imposed rule and threw himself at Bucky the second they left their apartment, kissing him in the elevator and leaving his friend looking immensely uncomfortable when they parted ways.

“Hey, Steve,” Bruce greeted, moving to timidly stand in front of him. “You okay, buddy? You seem a bit stressed.”

“Just thinking,” Steve mumbled, hunched over in his seat at the back of the quinjet, his elbows resting on his knees and hands on his cheeks.

“I can see that,” Bruce chuckled lightly. “What about?”

“Bucky,” he swiftly answered, looking up just in time to see Sam roll his eyes from his seat across from him.

“Did he give you sh*t about coming again?” Natasha called back from her seat in the co*ckpit next to Clint (who preferred to pilot the aircraft whenever possible).

“Or are you two having another quarrel?” Tony asked from the middle of the jet, playing some card game with Thor.

“Is he okay?” Thor questioned as well, twisting around to look at Steve and missing Tony sliding a card under his leg (Steve had pulled Thor to the side when they first took off, apologizing profusely for yelling at him when he visited Bucky in the hospital. Thor had laughed loudly and slapped Steve on the back, saying all was well and he didn’t take it personally).

Steve sighed, accepting this was no longer a conversation between Bruce and himself. “That’s just it… he never once said anything about wanting to come and wished me well when he walked out to the jet with us.”

Bruce blinked confusedly, and then shared a look with Tony. “Okay…maybe he’s accepted that you’ll tell him when he can start coming with us? Or he’s not 100% better from the um… accident, and needs more time to rest.”

“We had a… bit of an incident earlier,” Steve uncomfortably admitted.

He stood up and began pacing the back of the aircraft, needing to work off some of his stress. “And everything seemed okay at first, but I think Bucky began realizing after that moment that I’m a f*cking walking disaster who has no idea what he’s doing, like ever, and that he’s better off doing literally a million other different things that don’t involve me, and he doesn’t want to watch my back anymore because I’m f*cking dumb and reckless and an awful person who doesn’t appreciate what they have until it’s gone, and he’s going to leave the Tower and go live with his other ‘friend’ who’s probably a lot less of a f*ck-up than me, and I don’t know what I’ll do if Bucky leaves, but it won’t be anything good -”

Steve stopped mid-rant when his body crashed into a huge obstacle that randomly appeared in his path.

“Captain Rogers,” Thor growled, placing his hands on Steve’s shoulders and holding him in place. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but that man would literally murder a god for gravely hurting you… I don’t think he’s suddenly changed his mind and decided to ditch you for bloodier battlefields.” He shook Steve a bit, ignoring Natasha’s, ‘It’s technically greener pastures, but I like yours better.' “You need to snap out of this pessimistic spiral and get it together, that man adores you regardless of what you think about yourself.”

“Agreeing wholeheartedly with Thor!” Natasha shouted from the front of the aircraft, the others echoing the same opinion after her. “Steve, you’re likely getting worked up over nothing. Just call him now and tell him we’ve all agreed he can come on the next mission and see what he says.”

“Tell him he has to put it on speaker, though, so we can all analyze it as a group,” Clint suggested to Natasha; the female Avenger turned around and raised her eyebrow at Steve, knowing he had overheard the comment.

Steve sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Fine.”

His heart in his throat, he quickly found Bucky’s contact and pressed ‘call’, smiling softly at the contact photo (Bucky mid-laugh on the couch, his nose scrunched cutely with one kitten in his bun, two climbing determinedly up his shirt, and Grant rubbing his face under Bucky’s chin).

“Steve?” Bucky worriedly asked upon answering. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, turning his back to the others so they couldn’t see his expression. “Um, I just wanted to call and say that we all talked it over, and the others agreed you can come on the next mission with us… that is, um, if you still want to? No pressure, of course, I understand if you’ve changed your mind.”

Steve tensed, waiting for Bucky to essentially tell him to f*ck off, but he flinched violently when he heard a large crash followed by inaudible shouting.

“Christ,” Bucky huffed. “Hold on.”

Steve looked back at his phone when the other side went silent, thinking Bucky had hung up on him.

“He muted you,” Sam calmly informed him.

He impatiently waited for three minutes before Bucky spoke again. “Okay, cool, that sounds good. The kids also want to come, too, so think that over, please.”

“Are you okay?” Steve asked concernedly, ignoring Clint and Tony’s loud yelling about how the kids weren’t ready for missions.

“All good,” Bucky distractedly answered. “But hey, gotta go, love ya, Stevie, be safe, bye.”

The line went dead, and Steve stared in dismay at his phone.

“He hates me,” Steve groaned, flopping down face first on the row of seats.

“Somehow, I did not get the same vibe,” Tony snarked back, and Steve missed everyone sharing exasperated looks with one another.

[LittleRedWitch]: Just a heads up… I pierced James's lip and uh...

[LittleRedWitch]: It looks really, really good ( 。・o・)💗

[SpyDarLing]: Like on a scale of 1 to Thor, how good?

[LittleRedWitch]: Just below Thor in battle armor with the long flowing hair good

[SpyDarLing]: (ʘᗩʘ’)

[SpyDarLing]: Well… at least I know why Barnes brushed him off earlier. The serum will prevent Steve from having a heart attack, so it should be fine…?

[LittleRedWitch]: Here’s to hoping! (∗•ω•∗)

When Steve called and said Bucky would be allowed to come on the next mission, he had almost dropped the phone in shock, Winter and past-Bucky screaming deafeningly in his head.

Unfortunately, Peter had overheard the conversation with his enhanced hearing and had knocked over something in the lab in his excitement, which may or may not have started a small fire, and by the time Bucky returned to the phone call, he was too busy with that fallout to freak-out with Steve.

After hanging up, the three of them quickly fled the lab while Friday extinguished the flames, the A.I. advising that they should stay out of the room for an hour while it aired out.

“Awesome,” Wanda answered, peculiarly not sounding sarcastic at all. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

“What do you think that’s about?” Peter nervously asked, the two of them spread out over the couches in the common area.

“Scared to know, honestly,” Bucky shrugged truthfully.

‘We made it, gentleman,’ past-Bucky boasted gleefully.

‘I’m honestly in shock right now,’ Winter admitted, brutally honest as ever. ‘I never thought we would be allowed to go.’

‘I told you to have some faith,’ past-Bucky huffed indignantly.

‘Uh huh,’ Winter said dismissively. ‘We start training the second we get that new vibranium lip ring; I’ll work on a fitness plan, past-Bucky you start cataloging what weapons we have and what we need. Barnes, you think you can get Spider Child or Stark to design a new uniform?’

‘Already got ideas, but yes,’ he answered, his excitement levels rising despite knowing he had a lot of work ahead of him.

'Do you think we can finally get a harpoon?' past-Bucky asked.

'God, I hope so,' Winter sighed longingly. 'And one of those vibranium shields.'

The elevator dinged and Wanda briskly walked out with a large pink metal case clutched in her hand.

“Oh no,” Peter moaned, covering his face.

Bucky glanced between the two of them in confusion.

“What’s going on?” he tentatively asked when she plopped down next to him on the couch and stared silently at his face with a critical eye.

“I am going to make you look absolutely stunning,” she pronounced, clapping her hands together in excitement.

He co*cked an eyebrow at her explanation, holding back the smart comment on the tip of his tongue, but soon understood Peter’s horror when she opened the case; it was overflowing with makeup products, many of which Bucky couldn’t even begin to imagine the purpose of.

“Wait, I can try out my new camera, now!” Peter gasped, darting off to the elevator before either of them could get a word in.

Bucky sighed, reluctantly accepting his fate; he was in for a long afternoon, but allowing his face to be used as a canvas for Wanda’s art was the least he could do for the teen after everything she’d done for him, and if Peter wanted him to model so he could try out his new camera, then so be it… at least he was using his gift.

Bucky closed his eyes, falling into full on planning mode with his former-selves while his favorite little witch began her work.

Steve maybe kinda sorta f*cked up a bit (a lot) and ended up getting stabbed (multiple times) in the stomach by the Swamp Monstrosity because he’d been distracted worrying about his future with Bucky. Fortunately for him, his uniform was covered in a thick coating of mud from the swamp that easily hid the blood stains (though he hoped the wounds wouldn’t get infected, because that was something he didn’t have time for).

But he was fine! Totally fine. The wounds were likely closing up at this very second, and the intense, burning pain in his mid-section was due to his body working hard to repair itself.

Everything was fine, they just needed to f*cking land already before Steve went apesh*t in this stupid aircraft, and seriously, couldn’t Clint fly any faster? He swears the archer was taking his time and flying a scenic route on purpose, likely attempting to prolong his time with Natasha before she went off with Pepper and Maria for ‘Scary Women’s Night’.

The desire, no, need to see Bucky was literally unbearable.

f*ck, that was of course assuming Bucky was still in the Tower and hadn’t run off with the cats to live with that other guy.

Maybe Steve should jump out of the plane? He could borrow Sam’s wings and get there before Bucky disappeared, never to be seen again.

“Are we there yet?” Steve asked, clenching his teeth from the pain. And anger. And general dismay at his predicament.

“Does it look like-“

“What Tony means to say, Steve, is that we’ll be wheels down in ten minutes,” Natasha cut in over Tony’s smart ass remark.

Steve cast a longing glance at the emergency exit.

“You good, Steve?” Sam eyed him up and down. “You’re looking a little pale, and I swear that thing got you with its tail.”

Steve waved a hand dismissively, hoping he hid his wince behind a well timed cough. “It missed me. Just need to find Bucky and then take a warm shower.”

“Together?” Thor heartily laughed. “It’s always fun to shower with your Brothers in Battle after a good conquest! Start the revelry right away!”

“And helps save on water,” Natasha added, and Steve could see her wicked smirk without needing to look up.

“Separately,” Steve answered irritably, making a mental note to keep Thor far away from Bucky after missions… and during them… and well, Thor should be kept away from the former-assassin at all times if he was being honest with himself.

By the time they finally landed and exited the jet, Steve was a little shaky on his feet, but he attributed that to nerves. Definitely not blood loss, he was fine! (He also abruptly remembered he had barely eaten anything at all today, having been about to make his second breakfast after his morning run when Bucky woke up… and then he’d been too anxious to eat on the jet on the way there or on the way back; he would remedy that oversight after he found Bucky).

“Friday, do you know where Bucky is?” he questioned the moment he was close enough to the Tower for the A.I. to hear him.

“Sergeant Barnes is on the way to the common area now,” Friday informed him, and Steve hurriedly made his way there as fast as his battered body would allow.

He exited the stairwell into the common area right as the elevator dinged open, and Steve greeted Wanda and Peter who walked out first, the teens hunched over one of their phones in a passionate discussion.

Bucky leisurely exited the elevator after them, his head down and his dark hair covering his face.

“Buck,” he called, wringing his hands together. “Hey.”

Steve would admit he wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted him when Bucky raised his head.

As an artist, Steve would say he had a keen eye for finding beauty wherever he went; he found Bucky beautiful the moment he met him at age 5, when Bucky was declaring they were going to be best friends forever after having known Steve for all of two minutes. Bucky was beautiful when they were teenagers, and he was angrily shouting at Steve for getting into another fight with someone much bigger than himself (because Steve refused to stand by while some jerk talked rudely to their waitress), his furious expression and irritated words unable to mask his concern as he expertly bandaged Steve’s scraped up body with care. Bucky was beautiful when Steve was helping him off the examination table after Zola’s experiments, dazed and confused but still ready to fight at his side for their freedom. Bucky was beautiful as the Winter Soldier, with the heavy black eye paint and the angsty, murder eyes. Bucky was beautiful when he was dressed comfortably in Steve’s clothes, bundled tightly in his Snuggie on the couch and shoving fancy health food store Cheetos into his mouth, all while kicking his feet against Steve’s thigh in search of a foot massage.

Steve thought he was used to Bucky’s beauty at this point in their lives.

… Steve thought wrong.

So f*cking unbelievably wrong to the point where he feels like he committed a horrific crime thinking he was immune to Bucky’s beauty these days.

But, then again, to use the word ‘beautiful’ to describe the man in front of him in this current moment would be the understatement of the century.

Because this version of Bucky was nothing short of overwhelming. Heart-stopping. Divine. Exquisite. Stunning. Jaw-dropping. Steve had never laid eyes on something or someone so radiant and captivating before in his life, and his mind was struggling to process what his eyes were seeing.

Bucky’s lips were colored an enticing bright red (making them appear plumper than usual), and his eyes were elegantly traced in black (similar to the Winter Soldier but significantly less racoon-ish) with his eyelids lightly painted a glittery silver that accentuated his gray eyes, especially in the all black outfit he was now wearing. Steve wondered if there was a subtle sheen of glitter on the rest of his skin, because he literally glowed in the natural light of the common area.

But the real mind-shattering moment came from the silver hoop clinging to his lip; Steve never thought he’d be into something like a facial piercing, but Bucky made it look both classy and breathtaking all in one, and Steve couldn’t take his eyes off of it.

He wanted to see what kissing Bucky would feel like now with the jewelry in his lip. Wanted to taste those crimson lips, discover what would happen if Steve gently tugged on the piercing. Was it sensitive ? Would his lips taste like cherry? Or strawberry? Would their lips still fit perfectly together? Was it a real piercing or a clip-on? Would he be getting other piercings now? Could Steve’s heart survive another one? He had so many questions and couldn’t get his mouth to open in order to ask a single one.

“Steve? Can you… can you say something, please?” Bucky muttered, dropping his gaze back down to the floor and ripping Steve from his internal breakdown.

“I don’t, uh, I can’t -“ Steve paused. Swallowed. Attempted to get it together. “I just think… you…you look... um…f*ck, no.”

(What he meant to say was - “I don’t feel so good, I can’t think straight. I just think you are the most breathtaking person I have ever met, you look absolutely stunning, and holy f*ck, no one could ever compare to you.”)

Chapter 10: In Which Bucky Loses His sh*t

Chapter Text

Tears dampened his eyes as Bucky processed Steve’s jumbled words, but he wouldn’t let himself be embarrassed further by allowing them to fall.

When Bucky first saw Steve when he exited the elevator, he thought something seemed off with the other man; his posture was unusually slumped, he appeared to be breathing oddly, and in the few spots on his face that weren’t covered in mud, he looked paler than usual.

But it was evident he wasn’t too injured considering he was walking under his own power and well enough to grimace and verbally express his disdain for Bucky’s new look (which Bucky had been nervous but excited to show his friend until now).

‘Remember what the guy from the store said,’ past-Bucky whispered sympathetically.

‘It’s your body so you can do what you want, and screw anyone who doesn’t like it,’ Winter dutifully recalled.

‘We all know it’s not that easy! I finally chose something for myself simply because I liked it, and Steve hates it. It sucks, ya know?’ he whined, feeling miserable and wretched and ugly. He knew he needed to let it all out, though (even if it was just in the safety of his head), lest he do something dramatic like breakdown into full-blown sobs, an action that was becoming increasingly likelier the longer he stood here.

‘Maybe it’s the make-up, not the lip ring?’ past-Bucky gently suggested. ‘Personally, I like it, but it’s an easy fix, ya know?’

‘Again, I do not understand the purpose of this… face paint, and according to you two, painting one’s face can only be done for a specific purpose,’ Winter dryly added. ‘Perhaps Steve does not understand either?’

‘The purpose is to look good!’ past-Bucky hissed. ‘Which we do, for the record.’

‘Well, apparently, we do not, according to Steve at least,’ Bucky cut in, his tone sad.

Past-Bucky sighed mournfully. ‘I’m sure he’ll come around, future-self, it probably just shocked him… we look hot as f*ck, after all.’

Winter snorted. ‘It’s uncommon for us to agree, but I’m with you on this one - we look mysterious and dangerous, and what could be more appealing?’

“Um, okay, well, I um… I gotta go,” Bucky mumbled, tilting his head back down so his hair covered his expression, ignoring Steve’s sharp intake of breath.

Turning on his heel, Wanda and Peter followed closely behind (after Peter’s snappy, “I think you’ve made your point, Captain, no need to follow”) as they headed for the stairwell. The moment he lifted his arm in to push the door open, a loud thud came from behind the group, Wanda’s sudden shrill scream causing him to jump in alarm.

Bucky whipped back around, feeling his blood freeze upon seeing Steve’s unconscious form on the ground, again.

“YOU SAID HE COULDN’T HAVE A HEART ATTACK!” Wanda cried, pointing an accusing finger at Natasha who had just stepped off the elevator with Stark and Clint in tow.

Rushing back to the other man, Bucky shut out the screaming in his head and the chaos around him to focus on what mattered most - Steve. Dropping gracelessly to his knees, he began checking for injuries while the others called for medical attention.

“Hey, Stevie, you with me, pal?” Bucky whispered, lightly shaking him; he didn't receive a response, but he sighed in relief when he found a faint pulse in his neck.

Bucky scanned the rest of the way down Steve’s body, careful not to move him too much in case he had internal injuries. Clenching his teeth in rage upon seeing several slices in Steve’s uniform, he realized that the mud caked on all over the fabric was mixed with an unhealthy amount of blood.

“So, did he faint because Barnes is a sexy piece of man all of a sudden, or was he lying about not getting stabbed by the Swamp Monstrosity?” Stark questioned, tapping his chin in thought. He suddenly gasped and snapped his fingers. “Ooh, anyone wanna make a quick wager? My money’s on a combination of both of those factors, personally.”

“How could you not send him to Medical the second you got off the jet?” Bucky hissed, angrily glaring at Stark and Natasha. “It was clear from the moment I saw him that something was off, and he’s got at least four slices on his uniform that go all the way through to his skin.”

Stark shrugged nonchalantly. “You know him better than we do apparently. Congrats!”

“He said he was fine,” Natasha added, standing tall under Bucky’s growing rage. “Said he just wanted to see you, and then take a warm shower.”

‘Together?’ past-Bucky wondered aloud from behind Bucky.

‘Focus,’ Winter grumbled, and Bucky could practically hear his eye roll.

“OH, HE SAID HE WAS FINE, DID HE? And you BELIEVED him, despite a mountain of evidence to the contrary and the knowledge that he’s a self-sacrificing, RECKLESS IDIOT?!” Bucky roared, pulling himself up to his full height and towering over the Avenger trio; Stark jolted in surprise at the sudden noise, Natasha tensed, and Clint appeared to be on the verge of taking a step back and pulling his bow off his shoulder (Bucky did feel a twinge of guilt when he saw Peter and Wanda flinch in his peripheral vision). “There are puncture spots all over his uniform, he’s paler than a f*cking ghost, he could barely, walk, AND he was struggling to breathe. So, I’m curious - are you all blind, too weak to stand up to your Captain, or just f*cking stupid?”

Wanda comfortingly looped her arm through his, and it took everything in his power not to shake her off, but he continued his tirade. “Oh, not to mention, he’s f*cking COVERED in blood which I can all but guarantee is mostly his own and not whatever Swamp thing you fought today.”

Natasha continued to stare blankly back at him, while Stark and Clint blinked owlishly.

“It only looks like mud to all of us, and we could hardly see his face,” Clint acknowledged with a frown. “He’s the only one with enhanced senses on the jet who could have told the difference...besides Thor.”

‘Penciling in Thor’s verbal evisceration now,’ Winter snarled menacingly, stepping closer to Bucky’s back.

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a calming breath before responding. “It is evident I need to be out there with him considering he doesn’t have a f*cking ounce of self-preservation instincts, and no one else in your little vigilante group has an ounce of sense, period.”

“Wonderful, welcome to the Team, champ,” Stark cheered, patting him on his flesh shoulder before turning around to head towards the stairwell.

Peter coughed loudly into his hand.

“And the kids are coming, too,” Bucky called defiantly after him. “Except when Peter’s in class.”

“Aw man,” Peter whined dramatically. “Not fair.”

“It’s fair,” Bucky muttered before raising his voice. “Where the f*ck is the Medical team, Stark?”

Stark slowly turned back around as the elevator dinged, and Thor breezily sauntered out with a stretcher tucked under his arm.

“There,” Stark pointed, halfway out the door. “Good luck, keep me posted, he’ll be fine, bye!”

Thor joined their remaining group. “The illustrious Medical team sends their apologies for not being able to get down here, something about short staffing because of a wedding and routine maintenance being done on the robots that usually lift the Captain.”

‘I bet they want him to suffer a bit since he’s their worst patient,’ past-Bucky hissed.

Winter cracked the knuckles on his right hand. ‘And then they shall suffer next.’

When all was said and done, they probably didn’t even need Thor; Wanda cautiously maneuvered Steve onto the stretcher using her magic, and Bucky carried one end while Peter carried the other (Thor offered to help, but Bucky was feeling a tad (large) bit bitter about everything and decided he could help by pressing the buttons only).

During the elevator ride, Bucky POLITELY asked why Thor didn’t insist Steve went to Medical right away when the jet landed; the Asgardian shrugged uncomfortably and said it just seemed like a few scratches; the understanding part of Bucky chalked into up to differences in human and Asgardian biology, but the really petty part of him fingered the blade strapped under his shirt sleeve and weighed the pros and cons of stabbing the man a few times to get his point across; even a 'few scratches' on Steve warranted a trip to Medical, and he would ensure the rest of the Team understood that explicitly going forward.

Bucky almost flew into another tantrum when the head doctor entered the waiting room hours after Steve had been admitted and presented him with her findings. The prognosis was good, overall, but still rage inducing - extreme loss of blood, low blood sugar because the jerk barely ate all day, the f*cking puncture wounds were venomous, and the toxins released into Steve’s system were slowing his healing capabilities. He should be fine after plenty of rest and recuperation, but the Stark Medical team was familiar enough with Captain Rogers to understand that getting him to rest would be the hardest part of the entire endeavor.

‘How could he not eat all day?!’ Winter vented, pacing the floor in front of Steve’s bed; Bucky had been sitting in the chair by Steve’s bedside for half a day already, his two former-selves mimicking his brooding silence until this point. He’d convinced the other Avengers and the kids that he was fine, no he would not move anytime soon, and yes, they should go get some rest if they were tired. ‘We have failed him… we need to do better, do you two understand me?! This is now the third time in a month he’s been admitted to Medical for something serious, and that is NOT acceptable to the mission objective.’

Winter twisted on his heel, his long hair fanning out behind him.

“Agreed - we need to step it up,’ past-Bucky murmured from his cross-legged perch on Steve’s bedside table. ‘We should never have allowed him to leave without eating again after his run.’

‘At least we’ll be with him on missions now,’ Bucky pointed out, his eyes focused solely on Steve’s motionless form; the nurses assured him it was okay that he hadn’t woken up yet, but it still filled Bucky with unrelenting anxiety to see his friend in such a way.

Perhaps sensing his pessimistic thoughts, Steve’s eyelids fluttered, and Bucky reeled back in surprise when his eyes flew open. The blonde grimaced as he assessed his surroundings, the slow, steady beeping of the heart monitor acting as a good indicator to his current location.

Bucky stayed silent as Steve appraised the room, absentmindedly fiddling with his lip ring while waiting for his presence to be noticed.

“Oh, hey, Buck,” Steve whispered when he realized Bucky was at his bedside. He sounded friendly, but his eyes immediately fixated on Bucky’s lip ring, and the now rapidly beating heart monitor revealed more that Steve’s friendly tone ever would.

Bucky chewed on his bottom lip, keeping his gaze on the floor. “I wanted to make sure you were okay, but I’ll just, um, go now.”

He clumsily stood up, his legs numb and shaky from the prolonged sitting but his stubbornness allowed him to persevere in his attempt to escape this unbearable situation.

“What?” Steve reached out a trembling hand, locking his fingers around Bucky’s left wrist. “Don’t go.”

Bucky sniffed and blinked rapidly, feeling the wave of emotions he’d been suppressing since Steve fainted overtake him. “I’m clearly upsetting you, and you need to rest. I’ll get a nurse on my way out.”

“Buck -”

He broke free from Steve’s weak hold and attempted to scamper from the room, but the sudden ringing silence caused him to whip around in confusion - he was (foolishly) surprised to see Steve holding up the electrodes that had been previously attached to his body.

“Put them back on!” Bucky directed, glaring hotly.

“No, not until you talk to me and let me apologize,” Steve huffed, attempting to pull himself into a sitting position despite the pain likely radiating throughout his abdomen.

“Stop moving, you idiot,” Bucky growled, approaching Steve’s bedside and expertly adjusting the half dozen pillows he’d requested, knowing his friend had to be propped up while he was awake if they wanted even a remote chance of him staying in that damn bed.

Once he finally got Steve situated comfortably and had seated himself back in the chair at his bedside, the awkward, tense silence had Bucky wishing he’d pretended to be asleep when Steve woke up.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier,” Steve apologized, making eye contact with Bucky for the first time since he woke up.

‘Hmm...a strangely worded apology,’ past-Bucky observed curiously.

Bucky frowned, torn between wanting to brush the whole incident under the rug and pretend it never happened or standing his ground despite the impending uncomfortable conversation.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to choose the correct option, even though it was difficult. “It’s okay if you don’t like it, but it’s my body, my choice, and I’m keeping it.”

‘Bold words from someone who was constantly hating on my eye paint,’ Winter grumbled pettily.

‘Move on, man! You looked terrible,’ past-Bucky immediately snarked back. ‘We were doing you a favor by pointing out how ridiculous you looked… you’re welcome, by the way.’

Steve’s brows furrowed, and his eyes briefly darted around the room as if looking for a clue… or an escape route. “Um… what do you mean?”

Bucky co*cked his head to the side, eyeing Steve up and down - was he seriously going to play dumb right now? “My lip ring. I like it, and I’m going to keep it.”

“I mean, yes, Buck, I figured out already that you were talking about your piercing,” Steve snapped, his cheeks coloring with splotches of red. “I think it looks good on you, so I’m not sure what you’re going on about.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, feeling beyond exasperated at Steve’s audacity to lie right to his face. “Steve, don’t spare my feelings now just because I called you out. I saw your reaction when I got off the elevator; hell, everyone saw and heard your reaction, and it wasn’t a positive one.” He paused, choosing his next words carefully. “You’ve never been one to lie about stuff like this, so I don’t know why you’d start now, especially with me of all people.”

Steve’s mouth dropped open, and he waved his hands in alarm until he accidentally tugged on the IV in his arm. “Ow, ugh, I hate this sh*t. But, no, Bucky, holy f*ck, that was not what I meant at all, please believe me. Admittedly, I may have been a bit lightheaded and struggling to think clearly at the time, which to be honest, was kind of your fault -“

“It’s my fault you got stabbed by a venomous dinosaur science experiment on a mission you wouldn’t let me go on?” Bucky shouted, shocked by the accusation.

‘Oh no he didn’t!’ past-Bucky screeched, and Bucky was half expecting his former-selves to suddenly pop up behind him to tear Steve a new one even though he wouldn’t be able to see or hear them.

“No!” Steve groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I meant the elevator incident - It’s your fault for looking so good and taking my breath away and making my brain all fuzzy so it forgets how to work, you know? Like… who gave you the goddamn right to look so stunning!? A warning would have been nice so I could have mentally prepared or something.”

Bucky blinked in response, his own mind struggling to process Steve’s impassioned explanation.

‘It’s nice to have our beauty recognized at last,’ Winter preened, and Bucky pictured him flipping his hair like the drama queen that he was.

‘Steve’s been telling us we were good looking since we were kids, but this is a new level,’ past-Bucky explained in awe. ‘Even somehow beats the beauty speech at the Team breakfast.’

“Wow, umm, I’m sorry…thank you? It seems like they’ve given you some good drugs in that IV, didn’t they?” Bucky awkwardly laughed, his eyes unable to meet Steve’s.

Steve side-eyed the IV bag next to his bed. “Maybe? But regardless, I do like your lip ring, and I’m glad to see you trying new looks… that makes one of us,” he quipped with a bitter snort. “But yeah… I’m sorry, and I know it’s a late apology and I should have said it earlier, but I don’t want things to be weird with us.”

Bucky huffed in frustration, clenching his jaw. “Steven Grant Rogers. What exactly are you apologizing for, then?”

Steve looked down, nervously running his fingers around his blankets. “Oh. Um, you know. Earlier. Kissing you in the elevator when I said we should keep that stuff in our apartment where no one else could see. Pulling your hair all the time, leaving those hickies, always making innocent situations… indecent and constantly pushing your boundaries. I’m sorry, Bucky, I promise I’ll change my behavior, and please swear you’ll tell me if I’m making you uneasy because that’s the last thing in the world I would ever want to do.”

‘Oh, what a sweetheart. I forgot how precious and considerate he could be,’ past-Bucky swooned. “And insecure, too, if we’re all being honest.’

‘I thought we liked that stuff?’ Winter interjected quizzically. ‘Why is he apologizing?’

‘That’s what Steve does,’ past-Bucky and Bucky answered at the same time, forcing Bucky to push down a smile.

“Steve.” Bucky reached forward and grabbed one of Steve’s fidgeting hands, gently running his thumb across pale skin. “You’ve never made me uncomfortable, not like you’re thinking.” He swallowed, feeling his entire body heat in embarrassment. “I like doing all of that with you, I swear it. I’m just shy, ya know?”

Steve scoffed and pitched his voice higher. “Bucky, don’t spare my feelings just because I called you out. You’ve never been one to lie about stuff like this, so I don’t know why you’d start now, especially with me of all people.” He glared at Bucky, dropping his voice to its normal pitch. “Bucky Barnes doesn’t have a shy bone in his body, good lord! What a riot.”

“Excuse me!” Bucky gasped, dropping Steve’s hand to place it over his own heart. “First of all, no need to be a jerk, jeez. And, I can be shy, how dare you.”

“I know you’ve been through a lot,” Steve said, crossing his arms carefully over his chest to avoid jostling the IV. “But I still don’t believe you’re shy when it comes to anything like that. I heard the rumors, same as everyone else in the neighborhood, and you were never one to skimp on the details of your escapades during our sleepovers.”

“Most of those rumors were untrue,” Bucky mumbled, listening to past-Bucky quickly explain their ‘sexual’ history, most of which was either a flat out lie or an exaggeration in order to fly under the radar.

Steve snorted, rolling his eyes. “You sure never did deny them, though.”

‘Well, duh! Wouldn’t want anyone to catch on to the fact we were gay as a goddamn rainbow and completely gone for our very straight and very male best friend,’ past-Bucky retorted defensively. ‘Some of those girls were head over heels for their female friends, and they recognized our predicament right away - it was a mutually beneficial liaison that allowed both of us to hang out with our best friends constantly with no one questioning it. The other dames just wanted their own reputation boosted by being linked to us and didn’t care we never spent time or attention on them, only wanted to be shown off on our arm during outings.’

“It was good for my reputation,” Bucky shrugged carelessly. “But regardless, I never gave a damn about what any of those girls thought of me. But um… I care about your opinion of me. And didn’t want to freak you out with just how much I like doing that stuff with you, and this is all so new, and I just… I’m scared, Steve.”

Steve tilted his head in consideration. “Alright, that’s fair, and I'm sorry for being a jerk about it. What exactly are you afraid of, though?”

Bucky looked down, picking at a loose thread on his shirt. “You know. Scared of having this for a while and then it being taken away… but I know what it’s like to have it now, at least somewhat, and I’m scared of how much it’ll hurt to lose it. Scared of accidentally pushing you away myself because I don’t know what I’m doing, scared of you realizing you’d rather do this kind of stuff with someone else, scared of losing you completely and for… forever this time.” (Scared of you finding out how I really feel about you and hating me for it.)

His voice cracked at the end, and Bucky dug the fingers of his metal hand into his thigh, hoping the sharp pain would distract him enough from the urge to bolt out the door. He revealed too much, he knew he did, and he was waiting for the moment when Steve caught on and that would be the beginning of the end.

Steve made a pained noise, and Bucky quickly lifted his head up to see the idiot trying to slide out of his hospital bed.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, standing up and corralling Steve back onto the bed.

Steve tugged forcefully on his hand and only Bucky’s significant core strength (and the fact that Steve was seriously weakened) prevented him from falling face first onto his friend (he resolutely ignored past-Bucky’s snicker at his predicament).

“Buck, please sit with me?” Steve turned his infamous bright blue puppy-dog eyes on him, and only decades of practice allotted him the strength to say no.

“You’re hurt, pal, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Steve’s angelic look of innocence quickly morphed into the one Bucky feared most - stubbornness. “This is a special Stark designed bed for Super Soldiers so there’s plenty of space for both of us… I can also assure you I won’t stop trying to get out of this bed until either you come sit next to me or I make it to the chair.”

‘There’s no other chair… is he planning to sit on us?’ Winter asked in alarm.

‘Let’s find out!’ past-Bucky cheerfully suggested.

‘No, he needs to stay in bed,’ Bucky rejected with an air of defeat.

“Fine, scoot over - CAREFULLY, Steve! You have stitches.”

Steve raised an eyebrow and glanced down at his abdomen in confusion before shrugging and moving over to the far side of the bed.

Bucky leaned forward to adjust his pillows, but Steve held a hand out to stop him.

“They’re fine right there. You, sit,” Steve directed, and then maneuvered Bucky into his previous position - half reclined back on his mountain of pillows with his legs extended down the bed in front of him. Bucky’s throat tightened as Steve proceeded to cautiously lay on his side next to him, pillowing his head on Bucky’s chest and wrapping the arm not attached to the IV snuggly around his waist.

“We have very different versions of what ‘sitting’ means,” Bucky eventually commented, and then gasped in pain when Steve pinched his side.

“This is much more comfortable, though,” Steve replied, bringing his head up to flash a smug smile at Bucky. “And now you can’t escape halfway through what I’m about to say.”

‘The Winter Soldier can always escape,’ Winter huffed petulantly.

“Okay…”

“So,” Steve began, and Bucky’s heart raced in anticipation. “ I understand your concerns, but I swear on my own life… hell, swear on my Ma’s grave that you will never lose me.”

“You can’t promise something like that, Steve, you have no idea what the future holds,” Bucky firmly cut in. “Especially since you’re reckless as f*ck.”

“Ok fine, I’ll give you that, but I swear you will never lose me because I picked someone else over you, or I got tired of you, or anything like that. And you couldn’t push me away if you tried, pal; you’re stuck with me. I know everything we’ve been doing lately is super new for both of us, but seriously, Buck, you can tell me at any time to back off and I will. Or if you want to do something else, I’m happy to discuss it with you.”

“Okay,” Bucky whispered, absentmindedly carding his fingers through Steve’s hair. “I know I probably won’t be the one to initiate anything new, at least not for a while, but I do like the things you’ve done so far… a lot, I promise.”

“Good, I’m glad. But you have to promise me, Buck, that you’ll talk to me if something makes you uncomfortable, or if you want something else, or if you find someone else you want to do stuff with. I would never hold it against you or allow it to ruin our friendship.”

‘As if there would ever be anyone else,’ past-Bucky scoffed. ‘Steve Rogers has been it for us for almost a century.’

“That last part won’t ever happen, but I promise I’ll try to be better with my words,” Bucky responded truthfully. “Verbal communication has never been our strong suit since someone tends to avoid the other or pretend like the issue never happened.”

Steve laughed softly, but gasped in pain when the movement jostled his healing wounds. “Ow, f*ck. Younger me was kind of a dick, huh?”

“A bit,” Bucky snorted. “So, do you want the breakdown of your injuries?”

“Nope, don’t care.” Steve quickly answered. “You cold?”

“No?” Bucky answered, confused by the sudden, random topic change.

Steve smirked slyly and removed the arm wrapped around Bucky’s waist; the former-assassin sucked in a sharp breath as Steve slipped his fingers under Bucky’s shirt and inched them painstakingly slow up his chest. Bucky glanced down, and that’s when he realized his unintentionally tight shirt left very little to the imagination.

‘To be fair, it is kind of chilly in here,’ past-Bucky consoled after Bucky finished his unintelligible shrieking. “But, also, it’s a natural reaction, especially when Steve’s around.’

“Could have fooled me,” Steve giggled, lightly brushing his thumb over Bucky’s nipple.

Bucky bit his lip to keep any inappropriate sound from escaping. “Steve, this is a hospital! And someone could walk in at any moment, and then they'll kick me out for life; I think this falls under ‘at home activities’.”

‘Actually surprised no one has come in yet,’ Bucky commented to his former-selves.

‘Hate to break it to you, but there’s a camera in the corner that I guarantee is being monitored,’ Winter casually responded.

‘f*ck, you couldn’t have said something earlier?!’

‘Nope,’ Winter callously dismissed. ‘This conversation needed to happen, and you also need to work on using your own senses.’

Steve pouted, but immediately removed his hand, smoothing Bucky’s shirt back in place. He peered up at Bucky, his eyes alight with hope… and mischief. “Hmm, it’s a shame we can’t go home now, then. Can I have a kiss, at least, pretty please?”

“And then a nap,” Bucky smoothly negotiated, earning an eye roll from the other man.

“It better be one hell of a kiss, then, since I just woke up.”

Bucky leaned down and pecked Steve firmly on the lips, before sitting back up and smiling smugly at the disgruntled man.

“Nap time, pal,” he smirked. “Unless you’d rather have me call the nurse who is anxiously waiting to poke and prod at you… after a good scolding, of course. I heard it took half of their staff to get all that mud off during your sponge bath.”

‘Wait, we need to scold him, too!’ Winter quickly interjected. ‘His actions were wholly unacceptable. Also, you’re terrible for lying to him.’

‘Maybe it’ll make him feel a bit guilty?’ past-Bucky suggested. ‘He doesn’t need to know we did all the heavy lifting and the cleaning robots were brought in once their upgrades finished with no nurses needed to get that nasty swamp muck off.’

“That was simply unacceptable, Sergeant,” Steve growled, completely ignoring Bucky’s words.

Past-Bucky sighed. ‘So, that’s a no to feeling guilty it seems.’

Steve reached up, grabbed Bucky’s shirt, and dragged him back down for a proper and much longer kiss, eventually trailing his tongue along Bucky’s bottom lip and piercing.

“I like it a lot,” Steve grinned when they finally broke apart. “So, it is real, then?”

“What?” Bucky gasped, trying to regain his breath.

“Your lip ring, I like it,” Steve clarified, his smile wide and teasing. “But is it real?”

Bucky nodded, his mind still not functioning properly enough to form coherent sentences.

Steve frowned thoughtfully. “At least, I think I might. Maybe another kiss just to be sure?”

Bucky pursed his lips, not dumb enough to fall into that endless trap. “We can test that out… when you wake up.”

“You’re no fun,” Steve groaned before closing his eyes and shifting closer to Bucky. “But you gotta take a nap, too.”

“I don’t think -“

“Thinking is overrated,” Steve interrupted, his tone firm. “Night, Barnes.”

“Sleep well, Rogers,” Bucky resignedly replied, shutting his eyes and finding himself grateful he could sleep in any position (especially when he had Steve’s comforting weight pressed against him).

Natasha expertly wrapped a ribbon around the end of Wanda’s newly finished braid and tapped the younger woman's shoulder to let her know she was done.

“Do you think Captain Rogers will be okay?” Wanda softly asked, looking over her shoulder to flash Natasha a grateful smile for doing her hair.

“Steve will be just fine,” she assured the worried girl. “The venom slowed his healing, but the Medical team are working around the clock to completely flush it out of his system so his wounds will close right up on their own.”

“Good, and then when he’s all better, I’ll break his face and not feel guilty about it,” Peter growled from his preferred “thinking” position - hanging upside down from the ceiling.

Natasha watched Wanda’s face harden at Peter’s comment and internally heaved a sigh. “I know Steve didn’t put his best foot forward earlier, but I can all but guarantee he liked Barnes’ new look.”

Wanda scoffed disbelievingly. “He has an interesting way of expressing his approval.”

Natasha hadn’t witnessed their confrontation from the beginning, but Wanda had shared the memory with her when they got back to her apartment, and she couldn’t understand how the two teens didn’t see how absolutely wonderstruck Steve looked when he first saw Barnes walk off the elevator; hell, there were practically hearts falling out of his eyes! Even Clint picked up on it when Wanda showed him the memory, and despite being a trained spy, that man wasn’t the brightest when it came to picking up romantic undercurrents. She assumed it was because the youngest Avengers were fully #TeamBarnes (as she liked to think of it in her head) and weren’t mature enough to see (or accept) the other side to the story.

“I know everyone tends to think of Steve as calm and collected and great at rousing speeches -”

“But he’s actually a giant, mean douchebag who should keep his mouth shut,” Peter criticized, his gaze trained on his phone like he was praying for a call or text message that refused to come through.

“But,” she continued with a firm glare to the boy across from her. “He’s actually a bit of a disaster when it comes to emotions and dealing with other people in non-combat settings, especially when Barnes is involved. I understand you two are very supportive of Barnes, and I know he appreciates that, but can you please try to be a bit more understanding where Steve is coming from? He’s been through more than any of us could ever understand, and he’s had little time to process it before he’s thrown into the next battle.”

Peter and Wanda wordlessly shared several looks, all of which involved different degrees of eyebrow raising, frowning, scowling, and then an eye roll from each.

To her surprise, it was Peter who gave in first with a put-out sigh. “Fine,” he agreed, pocketing his device and walking across the ceiling towards where she was sitting with Wanda in her favorite hanging bubble chair. Natasha tapped a button on the side panel of the chair and it slid open to become twice as large, allowing for Peter to comfortably sit next to them.

“Agent Romanoff,” Friday interrupted. “Captain Rogers is waking - I’ve routed the footage to your tablet, but due to Medical protocols, it won’t have audio.”

“That’s fine,” she said, handing the Stark-designed tablet to Wanda since she was sitting in the middle. “I’m sure we can figure out what’s going on.”

“He’s already upset James,” Wanda angrily pointed out when the footage loaded. “Look, his eyes are all teary!”

“He just woke up, he couldn’t have -” Natasha peered over Wanda’s shoulder, only to realize Wanda was indeed correct - Barnes did seem pretty upset and was attempting to leave the room. She internally crossed her fingers, praying Rogers would get his sh*t together.

“And Cap rips his heart monitoring electrodes off, nice,” Peter commented dryly. “Is he always so dramatic?”

“Absolutely,” Natasha confirmed truthfully. “I’m surprised he hasn’t tried to get out of bed yet.”

“I don’t understand how James can still be so kind,” Wanda whispered as they watched him fluff up Steve’s pillows and help his “friend” sit up comfortably on the bed.

“He’s a nicer guy than anyone gives him credit for, himself included,” Peter responded, his eyes glued to the screen. “And they’re arguing again…”

Natasha rolled her eyes at the screen. “See, look at Steve flailing around like a teenager - I told you, he’s a walking disaster, but he’s a good guy underneath it all.”

“Uh huh,” both teens said, each shooting her various looks of skepticism.

“Well… he must have said something nice since he’s got James all blushy and flustered,” Wanda pointed out, and Natasha stuck her tongue out at the other woman.

The three watched silently as Barnes and Steve went back and forth between arguing and talking normally, before Peter looked up at her with wide eyes. “They’re holding hands… do you think they’re confessing their eternal love for each other now?”

Wanda tossed her head back with a loud laugh. “Please, Peter, you watch too many romance movies. We’ll be dead and buried before they ever get to that point at the rate these two go.”

Natasha eyed Wanda out of the corner of her eye. “Bit pessimistic, don't ya think? I mean, we all know something has been going on with them lately, don’t we? Things that are definitely bordering on non-platonic.”

Peter glanced between the two of them as if he was watching a tennis match. “We do? Wait… I guess we did catch them in bed together recently. Half naked. And there was also the hickey incident…”

“It is just so frustrating, sometimes!” Wanda groaned loudly, resting her head against the back of the bubble chair. “They both love each other, but they’re so scared that the other one doesn’t feel the same. But everyone can see how they feel, even Peter!”

“Hey!” Peter whined with a frown. “I am emotionally observant.”

“Of course, Pete,” Wanda amicably agreed with a pat on his back. “Sometimes, I just want to meddle a little and help them get together.”

“Terrible idea, Wanda dearest,” Clint said, dropping down from the vent onto the top of the chair as Wanda and Peter both screamed due the unexpected noise (which had Natasha laughing so hard, she had to catch herself before she crashed down to the floor).

“You two need to be more observant,” Natasha said after she regained her breath. “He’s been there this whole time.”

“I got curious about Keeping Up With the Super Soldiers since you three stopped commenting on their every move,” Clint explained, tossing an arm over Natasha’s shoulders and peering down at the screen. “But meddling never goes well for anyone; they’ll get together on their own if it’s meant to be.”

“How romantic,” Wanda scoffed, giving Clint a petulant glare. “But fine, we will do it your way, but when Peter and I are old enough to retire and they’re still not together, we will do it my way.”

“Sounds like a plan, Little Witch,” Clint chuckled, playfully pinching Wanda’s cheek much to her chagrin; Natasha cooed internally upon seeing the other girl’s small smile that formed when she thought no one was looking.

“Ha, I knew it!” Natasha cried, looking back down at the screen. “Steve was definitely going to try to get out of that damn bed at some point during this.”

“Literally no one would have taken that bet against you, Nat,” Clint said, rolling his eyes. “It’s basically a given at this point that Steve Rogers is the worst patient in the history of Stark Medical and must break his record of sh*ttiness every time either Bucky or himself end up there.”

“True,” she snickered. “Though Barnes’s presence has mitigated his terribleness a bit since he hasn’t actually made it out of the bed yet or made anyone cry.”

“Ummm,” Peter awkwardly began. “That might be because Bucky is climbing into the bed with him?”

“Rogers, you sly fox, look at that sh*t-eating grin,” Clint laughed, glancing up at her. “You must be so proud, Nat, seems like a play right out of the Black Widow Book of Emotional Manipulation.”

“Need I remind everyone, they’re still in the hospital!” Wanda frowned intensely down at the screen, her brows furrowing as she tried to figure out what was happening now. “Oh my god, where is Steve’s hand going?!”

“Is… is Cap feeling Bucky up in his hospital bed?” Peter asked in abject horror.

“And now they’re making out.” Clint clapped his hands together and moved to turn the screen off, but Natasha swatted his hand away. “I think we’ve all seen enough.”

“I think I might be a bit traumatized,” Peter weakly commented, dropping his forehead to Wanda’s shoulder. The other teen wordlessly brought a hand up to pat his head, her gaze far away.

“And look, they’re sleeping, so now can we turn it off? Or do you want to watch them sleep like a creeper?” Clint sarcastically questioned.

Natasha ignored Clint and pretended to wipe a tear from her eye. “I guess Steve does have some moves after all.”

“The real question, though,” Clint smirked wickedly. “Was that a Platonic Kiss or a Romantic Kiss? On the count of three… one, two, three -”

“Platonic,” they all said in unison.

The intercom crackled.

“Platonic,” Tony’s voice said from overheard. “Though, poor Brucey here thinks it was Romantic.”

“You are so innocent and naïve, hun,” Natasha cackled.

“Or just very behind on Keeping Up With the Super Soldiers,” Clint added, and the two older Avengers shared a quick high-five at their wit.

“I don’t think we should be invading their privacy like this,” Bruce calmly replied, and all four of them rolled their eyes simultaneously. “But that kiss was not something you share between friends.”

“The 40’s were a different time?” Clint shrugged helplessly.

“Also, too bad, it’s already done! But hey, we’ll catch you losers, later, Bruce and I have some Science Things to do during this commercial break.”

“Please try not to start another fire this time,” Natasha glared at the ceiling. “The lower labs are still being rebuilt.

“No promises!” was the last thing they heard before the intercom connection closed.

Bucky woke up slowly, feeling warm and well rested for the first time in ages… which was an alarming realization and had him immediately opening his eyes. He blinked in the harsh brightness of the room, eventually recognizing the sterile smell assaulting his nose meant he was currently in a hospital or medical facility.

Heart pounding fiercely when he couldn’t move his limbs, Bucky tried to wiggle enough to dislodge the blankets covering him in order to see his restraints.

“Mmm, stop moving, Buck, I’m tired,” Steve mumbled, and the sound of his friend’s voice soothed some of his anxiety until his brain finally recalled where he was and why.

‘Stark Medical wing - Steve was stabbed by the Swamp Monster of Doom because he’s an idiot,’ past-Bucky succinctlyinformed him.

‘You’ve been asleep for ten hours,’ Winter added judgmentally, but Bucky had a strange sixth sense that something was off with his two former-selves.

‘But…?’ he pressed.

“It’s probably nothing,’ past-Bucky uneasily brushed off. ‘We’ll tell you later, just check on Steve.’

“How do you feel, Stevie?” Bucky quietly asked, managing to free his metal arm and pull the blankets down to their waists.

Bucky was still on his back, but half of the pillows had been tossed to the side so he was reclined almost fully. Steve clung to his body like a koala - head pillowed on Bucky’s chest, one arm draped across his waist, and Bucky’s legs clutched between his own.

“Cold,” Steve shivered, scooting up slightly to bury his face into Bucky’s neck and tuck his bare toes under Bucky’s calves.

Bucky flinched when Steve’s freezing appendages touched his skin, recalling with vivid clarity how pre-serum Steve used to do the same thing when he was sick; Super Soldier Steve, however, always ran significantly hotter than his younger, more sickly self, a fact that had Bucky panicking internally.

“Let me check your wounds, and then we can get some food, okay?”

Bucky tried sitting up but struggled as Steve refused to let go, which helped relieve some of Bucky’s fears… at least Steve still had some strength in his body.

“If you sit up, I’ll give you a kiss?” he offered hopefully.

Bucky smirked internally as Steve cracked an eye open. “A good one?”

“All my kisses are good, Rogers,” Bucky rebuffed, tilting his nose in the air.

“Bye,” Steve scoffed, closing his eyes once more.

“Steve, come on,” Bucky whined. “Please? For me?”

Steve growled low under his breath but opened both eyes and carefully detangled himself from Bucky to lay flat on his back. “You’re manipulative, Barnes.”

“Learned from the best, Stevie,” Bucky snickered, only to rethink his joke when Steve’s expression suddenly became heartbroken. “I meant you, pal,” he clarified quickly.

“Gee, thanks,” Steve rolled his eyes, but Bucky felt better when he saw the smile tugging on his lips. Bucky leaned down and placed a slow, lingering kiss on Steve’s lips, making sure to pull back before either of them could get too lost in the moment.

But the momentary feeling of euphoria he had was crushed brutally when he lifted Steve’s shirt and saw the bright red blood staining the bandages.

“Why is it still bleeding?” Steve gaped, looking at Bucky in confusion. Bucky frowned when he noticed how pale Steve appeared overall, his blue eyes dim compared to their usual glow.

‘This is not good,’ past-Bucky cried, and Bucky almost fell out of the bed in shock when his two former-selves appeared in front of him.

‘Go to the bathroom,’ Winter ordered, his tone emotionless, but Bucky could see how tense he carried himself. ‘We will explain our theory there so you can focus fully on the situation without freaking Steve out.’

Bucky stupidly nodded in response, and Steve shot him a strange look.

“You okay, Buck?” Steve asked, mindlessly running a finger along his bandages. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I gotta pee,” he blurted, scrambling out of the bed and almost elbowing Steve in the process. “I’ll be right back, and then we can figure out what to do next, okay?”

“Uh, sure?” Steve agreed, and for the first time ever, Bucky followed behind his two former-selves as they led him towards the bathroom in the corner of the room.

‘Stand guard,’ Winter directed to past-Bucky who nodded firmly in response - Bucky had a feeling they weren’t as surprised by Steve’s non-healing wounds as he was.

Bucky slipped into the bathroom behind Winter, closing the door and leaving past-Bucky on the other side with Steve.

‘Remember to only speak in your head,’ Winter started, glaring at Bucky when he opened his mouth to agree but quickly shut it.

‘What’s going on?’ he asked, leaning against the handicap rail and watching Winter pace agitatedly in front of him.

‘Where are your weapons?’ Winter asked instead, pausing to watch as Bucky patted each spot on his body where he carried either a gun or a blade.

Winter nodded and began his pacing again, before stopping once more and turning sharply on his heel to face him. ‘You need to use the bathroom, Steve will know if you don’t.’

He somehow almost forgot about Steve’s own enhanced hearing and stepped towards the urinal to follow Winter’s instructions.

‘What is going on?’ he repeated, this time with more venom. He glared at Winter’s reflection in the mirror above the sink as he washed his hands.

‘While you were sleeping, a nurse came into the room to inject a solution into Steve’s IV bag… we thought it was strange since Steve hadn’t really been in significant pain before falling asleep. And we didn’t recognize the nurse, either.’

A montage of faces flashed across Bucky’s brain, all Stark medical personnel his former-selves had ever seen either between his time in the Medical wing when he first came to the Tower or (most commonly) from visiting Steve. The last image was of an unfamiliar, pale, dark haired woman dressed in scrubs tiptoeing by their sleeping forms and injecting a thick, opaque liquid into Steve’s IV.

She left immediately after completing her task, and several minutes passed as Steve’s peaceful sleeping morphed into something more restless; he started shivering violently and sleepily wrapped the blankets at the end of the bed tightly around himself, and then when that wasn’t enough to warm him, he tossed most of Bucky’s pillows to the side so he could cling firmly to his body, eventually draping the blankets over both of them.

‘We think there’s been an infiltration,’ Winter finished explaining, his face expressionless. ‘But we don’t have infallible evidence to act on.’

Bucky grabbed tightly to the sides of the sink, his eyes firmly locked with Winter’s. ‘Then why did you pull me in here?! You could have told me all of this out there where we could protect Steve.’

‘To draw her out,’ past-Bucky tightly replied. ‘Or in, I guess.’

They all froze as they heard the click of the door opening. ‘It’s her,’ past-Bucky hissed, and Bucky flew out of the bathroom, his right arm held lightly behind his back so she couldn’t see the blade in his hand.

“Oh, hello, Mr. Barnes,” the woman brightly greeted, but Bucky could practically smell her anxiety. “I didn’t realize you were still here.”

“Where’s his usual nurse?” he gritted out, his body humming in anticipation.

“She’s not feeling well, so I’ll be filling in until Mr. Rogers can be released into your loving care. But don’t fret, she gave me a rundown of his unique biology so I came prepared,” the woman explained, slowly stepping towards Steve’s bed. Bucky gripped the knife tighter, warring against his protective instincts - on one hand, he wanted to throw this woman out the window based on the chance that she might be a fraud, but he also didn’t want to deal with the fallout of killing an innocent person on the off chance she was legitimately filling in for Steve’s usual nurse.

“How’s our favorite star patient feeling today?” she asked in a sickening sweet voice, reaching up to fiddle with his IV drip.

Favorite.

Star.

Two words the Stark Medical personnel would never in a million years use to describe one Steve Rogers.

‘Fraud!’ past-Bucky screamed from behind him as Winter yelled, ‘KILL HER!’

Without wasting a second, he flung the blade through the air, smirking as he watched the sharp metal sink into the woman’s raised hand, and she screamed loudly in pain. His satisfaction was short lived, though, when he glanced up to see the syringe of unknown liquid sticking out of the IV bag, the plunger fully released as her now-empty other hand dropped to her side.

“You stupid, f*cking -” He grabbed the woman roughly by her throat, squeezing harshly and holding her in front of him. “What did you just inject him with?!” he shouted, shaking her. “TELL ME!”

“Hail. Hydra,” she choked out, and Bucky screamed in frustration as her ‘tooth’ cracked and the cyanide capsule caused white foam to fill her mouth.

“Buck, stop, it’s okay!” Steve cried from the bed, trying to get his attention. “Bucky, please, look at me.”

Bucky ripped the IV bag off the pole and tossed it to the ground, praying there hadn’t been enough time for any of the ‘medicine’ to get into Steve’s system. He stared indifferently at the dying woman at his feet, his mind unable to process his failure. Again.

‘Go to Steve,’ past-Bucky softly commanded, his tone firm but still kind. ‘You need him right now just as much as he needs you.’

Spurred on by the words, Bucky rushed to Steve’s side, the other man shakily sitting up on his knees as he approached.

“It’s okay, Buck, it’s okay… I’m okay,” Steve hurriedly explained, showing Bucky the needle he had already pulled out of his skin.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you like I said I would,” Bucky sniffed, tears cascading down his face. f*ck, why did he always have to cry in front of Steve? He was so pathetic, and weak, and a failure, and he dreaded the moment Steve finally realized the truth about him.

‘We didn’t fail,’ Winter commented flatly, but the words sparked a realization of his own.

“But… wait, has the IV been out this whole time? None of that stuff got into you?”

Steve gently blotted Bucky’s tears with the end of one of their blankets. “Yep. I vaguely remembered someone coming into the room in the middle of the night, and I got suspicious when I woke up just now and my wounds were suddenly worse… so when you went into the bathroom, I tore the IV out of my arm.”

Bucky gently cradled Steve’s face in his hands, resting his forehead against the other’s as his heart rate slowly leveled out. “I’m glad your inability to be a good patient worked out for once.”

“You know, I guess I need a new nurse now if you’re up for it, Sergeant,” Steve grinned, pressing a soft kiss to Bucky’s lips. “I think with the proper motivation, I could be an excellent patient for you.”

“Do you actually think you could follow my orders for once in your life, Captain?” Bucky teased, his eyes locked on Steve’s. “I don’t think I’ll be as easy going as your past nurses.”

“Only if I liked what you were ordering me to do,” Steve coyly responded, slowly wetting his bottom lip. “I will admit, I like it when you call me ‘Captain’.”

Before Bucky could respond (or simply kiss that smug grin off Steve’s face) the door banged open, and Bucky angled his body to cover Steve’s completely, pulling his gun and training it on the newcomers.

“Relax, Barnes,” Natasha calmly ordered, and Bucky saw Stark and Clint standing uneasily behind her.

“Friday warned us about what was happening with Cap,” Clint explained, his eyes darting around the room and stopping at the dead body of the mysterious woman.

Clenching his jaw, he fought the urge to scream at Stark and the other Avengers for their terrible lack of security. Bucky slipped his gun back into its holster under his shirt, ignoring Steve’s raised eyebrow. “We’ve been infiltrated. By Hydra.”

“We’ll conduct a full investigation,” Stark advised, clearly avoiding the dead body as he walked a wide berth around it towards Steve’s bedside. “Only my most trusted on it, of course, including us three. I promise, Captain, we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“Yeah, it’s not the same when other people say it,” Steve muttered quietly enough for only Bucky to hear.

“Are you okay, Steve?” Natasha asked after having the spilled IV bag sent to Bruce in the lab to run diagnostics.

“Peachy,” he shrugged dismissively. “Is my usual nurse, okay? I know we didn’t usually see uh… eye to eye, but I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to her.”

“Thor and Vision are on their way to investigate,” Clint answered, poking the body with the toe of his boot to make sure she was truly dead. “In the meantime, we’ll have to scrape together our own medical knowledge to make sure Cap gets better… unless you’re open to trusting some of the other official Stark staff?

“f*ck. No.” Bucky growled, protectively tossing his arm over Steve’s shoulders. “Get me some more bandages, gauze, needle, thread, and antiseptic solution; Steve will be on bed rest in our apartment unless he drastically gets worse. And if god forbid that happens, then we will rotate around-the-clock care to make sure nothing like this happens again. Understood?”

The other three nodded, and Bucky gently pinched Steve’s arm when he opened his mouth to protest.

“Are you okay if we take some blood samples?” Natasha cautiously asked. “We’ll send it to Bruce as well since he has the samples from when you first were admitted yesterday.”

Steve agreed that would be a good idea, and Bucky stood stoically by his side as the Widow filled vial after vial with his blood.

“So, Barnes. Should I get you a cute little nurse’s outfit to go with your new career path?” Stark heckled from the doorway as they were finished up. “I’m sure it would help Cap recover faster.”

“Bye Tony,” Steve sarcastically called with a wave of his hand. “Thank you for all your help.”

“Anything I can do to help a friend, Cap!” Stark chuckled, slowly walking backwards as he left the room. “Might want to be concerned about those flushed cheeks, though - never a good sign, but I’m sure Barnes will take good care of it for you.”

[SpyDarLing]: Any chance the creepy fake nurse was a ploy to get Barnes and Steve together?

[LittleRedWitch]: If it was… it didn’t come from me or Peter

[LittleRedWitch]: Are they okay?!

[SpyDarLing]: Physically… Steve has seen better days, but I think he’ll be fine as long as no one injects him with anything nefarious anytime soon

[SpyDarLing]: Mentally/emotionally? Steve is good but Barnes is prolly planning multiple murders as we speak.

[LittleRedWitch]: Understandable… Peter and I will go check on them

[LittleRedWitch]: ｡｡ ᕕ༼✿•̀︿•́༽ᕗ

[SpyDarLing]: Make sure to knock first ◑.◑

Chapter 11: Sad Girl Autumn

Chapter Text

Clint and Bucky helped Steve out of the hospital bed and to the elevator; Bucky had debated on asking Wanda for help, but he didn’t want to bother the witch… or wait for her to get down to the Medical wing; Bucky needed Steve out of there immediately, or he wouldn’t be allowed to be held responsible for the damage he caused after the f*cking murder attempt on his best friend’s life.

It took longer than preferred to get back to their apartment and had Bucky feeling exceptionally grateful for past-Bucky and Winter watching their backs, allowing him to fully focus his attention on Steve. They managed to bring him to their apartment couch without aggravating his wounds too much, and the blonde remained mostly silent throughout the entire journey, likely in an attempt to preserve some of his dignity and reputation in front of his teammate; if it had been just Steve and Bucky, the injured man would have been bitching about anything and everything because, to put it quite simply, he was obnoxious like that (and loathed any situation that made him seem ‘weak’ and forced him to be reliant on someone else, even his best friend).

“Need anything before I go?” Clint offered, leaning down to pet one of the kittens.

Bucky frowned when Grant hissed at the newcomer from his perch on the chair, his entire body appearing as if it doubled in size. “Hey, none of that, Grant… Clint is a friend.”

Clint shrugged it off easily, but Bucky had a strange sense he was missing something important in the interaction.

‘Very strange indeed,’ Winter drawled. ‘Grant is usually welcoming to new people, a trait I am not overly fond of.’

“I’ve got everything from here, but thanks for your help, we both really appreciate it,” Bucky said, leading Clint back towards the elevator. “Keep me posted on the investigation, though, please.”

“Of course,” Clint agreed with a friendly grin. “Bye, Cap, hope you feel better soon!”

“Thank you!” Steve called from the couch. He waited until the elevator closed and Clint was whisked away from their apartment before whining at Bucky to come sit with him. “Please come kiss my wounds better, Sergeant Nurse, or I might die on the spot from lack of attention.”

“I’m going to find out quickly why the Medical team hates you, aren’t I?” Bucky laughed; the years of practice he (past-Bucky that is) had under his belt in caring for a sick or injured Steve allowed him to easily ignore the man’s pleas for attention.

He headed to the kitchen to whip up some proper food - Super Soldier size microwave burrito bowls, courtesy of Stark Industries (Bucky firmly believed Bruce and Stark invented these special 'Super Soldier Foods' solely because they'd gotten annoyed by Steve’s bitching about how frustrating it was to constantly buy bags and bags of groceries because nothing ever came in his needed portion size for his enhanced metabolism).

Steve snorted. “Honestly, you’ve already dealt with the worst long before they did.”

‘Don’t we f*cking know it,’ past-Bucky grumbled ruefully. ‘Pretty much had to sit on him sometimes for him to stay in bed.’

“Eh, I feel like you’ve gotten more obnoxious in your old age, Rogers,” he jokingly refuted, bringing their cooked food back into the living room along with a few of Stark’s sport drinks.

“Maybe,” Steve shrugged, silently watching Bucky place their food on the table and uncap their drinks. Before Bucky could hand him his meal, Steve reached out and grabbed Bucky’s arm, dragging the other Super Soldier towards him. “Kisses, first, please? I had such a stressful day, and it’s barely only lunch. Then, I’ll be good and do whatever you say, I swear it.” He stared pleadingly at Bucky, his bottom lip wobbling ever-so-slightly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky grinned, unable to find it in himself to deny Steve’s request; he was so relieved Steve was okay and feeling well enough to be a little sh*t (like always) that he would do almost anything the younger man asked.

They leisurely traded a few soft pecks as Bucky attempted to kiss the blonde’s ridiculously cute pout away until Steve groaned in frustration at their unhurried pace. He gripped Bucky’s jaw possessively in one hand and tangled the other in Bucky’s messy locks, the latter action sending heat rushing through Bucky’s body in anticipation of what the blonde would do next. Despite his rougher mannerisms, Steve’s tongue gently prodded against Bucky’s lips as he sought to deepen the kiss, and Bucky opened his mouth in compliance, his tongue swirling hotly with Steve’s.

“Did you know,” Steve began after they broke apart for air, tracing his tongue teasingly over Bucky’s lip ring, “that some people get their tongues pierced these days?”

“Is that so?” Bucky purred, raising an eyebrow at his friend. “You gonna get one?”

Steve threw his head back with a loud bark of laughter. “Could you imagine how people would react if Captain America had a tongue ring?”

Bucky smirked, finding himself enticed by the thought. “I know exactly how I would react.”

“Oh?” Steve breathed, as Bucky slowly leaned closer. “Care to show me?”

Bucky grabbed the back of Steve’s head with his flesh hand and crushed their mouths together, the image of Steve with a tongue piercing burning fiercely through his mind. The other man slid his hand up Bucky’s shirt, trailing his fingers lightly across his body as he explored Bucky’s muscular frame before suddenly raking his nails down the expanse of Bucky’s back. Bucky broke the kiss off as he moaned loudly at the new feeling, trying not to shy away from showing Steve how good he made him feel.

“f*ck,” Steve panted, nuzzling Bucky’s jawline before leaning up and nipping at his ear. “I love hearing you.”

“Yeah?” Bucky groaned, tilting Steve’s head to the side and drawing a sharp gasp from the other man as he sucked a bruising mark into his neck. “I love hearing you, too.”

“You’re so beautiful, Buck, holy sh*t,” Steve praised before bringing their mouths together again in a passionate kiss that had Bucky tugging the other man carefully into his lap, mindful of his wounds.

A noise overhead sent them crashing back to reality, the two men freezing in place at the unexpected interruption.

“Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes, I apologize for the interruption,” Friday professionally said. “But Mr. Parker and Ms. Maximoff are requesting entry.”

“f*ck!” they cried simultaneously, and the pair rushed to make themselves look presentable - Bucky smoothed down his rumpled shirt, tossed his hair into an acceptably messy bun using the hair tie on his wrist, and threw a blanket over Steve in a feeble attempt to hide his blazing hickey.

“Okay, let them in,” Steve replied after they gave each other nods of approval. They hurriedly grabbed their now cold bowls of food and dug in to look like they’d actually been doing something besides making out on the couch.

“Hey guys,” Wanda greeted as she exited the elevator, Peter uncharacteristically quiet behind her, keeping his gaze glued to the floor. “How are you both?”

‘Flushed cheeks, eyes on the floor, quiet, unable to look at anyone… do we think his issue is related to Steve and us, just Steve, or something different entirely?’ past-Bucky questioned intently.

Winter hummed in thought. ‘Got a strange sense it’s a bit of all three, actually. Barnes, begin the inquiry immediately.’

Bucky resisted the urge to roll his eyes. ‘Yes, Master.’

Winter huffed in irritation. ‘No need to be so snarky, it’s unbecoming.’

“Not bad, not bad,” Steve grinned easily, seeming to forget how he could have died an hour or so ago - it had Bucky wanting to face palm at his total lack of sense. “How are you guys doing?”

The dismissive comment at least had Peter raising his head in confusion. “Um, we’re good? You know, didn’t have a run in with a secret Hydra agent disguised as a nurse who was slowly sabotaging our medical treatment, so pretty solid, overall, I guess?”

“Ah… yes, forgot about that,” Steve mumbled, glancing at Bucky helplessly before shoveling some of his burrito bowl into his mouth so he couldn’t make any other stupid comments.

“What Steve means to say,” Bucky began, motioning to the teens to sit; he had to hold back a smile as they piled into one armchair together, all three kittens diving joyfully from one of the wall perches into their laps. “Is that we’re doing as well as could be expected considering someone essentially infiltrated our home and attempted to poison one of us with an unknown but likely deadly substance.”

Bucky grinded his teeth together at the end of his statement, hating the undeniable truth that he failed spectacularly at protecting Steve; he had one mission in life, and if he couldn’t do that successfully, then what was the point of his continued existence? Would joining Steve on missions actually be beneficial, or would they all just bare witness to how f*cking awful he was at taking care of the one person who gave his life purpose?

‘We will do better,’ Winter staunchly assured him. ‘I am stressed, too, believe me. But we will do better moving forward.’

‘And if we don’t?’ he hissed angrily.

‘We are no longer alone in this mission,’ past-Bucky genially reminded them. ‘We need to rely on others, but we also need to have faith in ourselves… don’t let this failure define you, future-self. We are more than just this moment.’

‘And it wasn’t even truly a failure,’ Winter snapped. ‘She didn’t inject him again.’

‘Not because of anything we did, though,’ Bucky returned childishly.

‘Maybe we should trust that Steve has some sense of his own,’ past-Bucky suggested.

All three paused for a moment before snorting ruefully. ‘Yeah, no, let’s not count on that.’

“Bucky?” Steve reached over and gently pulled his metal fingers apart from where he’d unconsciously clenched them into a fist, lacing their fingers together instead.

Bucky shuddered internally watching Steve run his thumb soothingly across the metal and had to physically resist wrenching their hands apart, feeling an almost overwhelming amount of disgust for the loving touch on the one part of his body he truly hated (except when it was useful in helping him defeat an enemy or in protecting Steve… then he could tolerate it).

“Sorry,” he apologized with a frown. “Got lost in thought.”

Peter eyed Bucky curiously before his eyes trailed down to see Steve’s hand supportively entwined with his metal hand. The teen’s eyes widened and then darted around the room, seemingly searching for an appropriate topic change. “Um… do you guys need anything? I can put all those Tony Stark-approved First Aid training classes to use and look at Cap’s wounds if you’d prefer.”

Bucky and Steve exchanged a quick look, and the other man minutely shrugged, uncaring either way.

“That’s… that’s probably a good idea, thank you,” Bucky agreed, grimly looking down at his metal hand; sure, he had a solid background in first aid, but it was a million times harder with only one good hand, and he didn’t trust many to do it in his place.

The teens waited quietly while Steve and Bucky finished their meals, the kittens a good distraction from the awkward tension that seemed to plague their visit. Wanda got some good practice with her magic, carefully ‘carrying’ the bulky man into the bathroom, Peter and Bucky standing on each side of him in case she accidentally dropped him.

“Holy f*ck, Steve, you are heavy,” Wanda groaned, sitting on the edge of the tub after her task was completed.

Steve pretended to be offended, glaring at her from where he sat on the bathroom counter. He placed a hand over his “wounded” heart, the other holding his shirt up to expose his legitimately wounded abdomen (why he didn’t just take the whole thing off was a mystery to Bucky, but he supposed the younger Super Soldier was trying to maintain some sense of modesty in front of the kids). Bucky hopped up next to him on the counter, Steve angling his body so he could lean back against part of Bucky’s chest, the position providing Pete with better access to clean the wounds.

“Good news is they don’t look infected,” Peter concluded after taking the old bandages off and wiping the dried blood off Steve’s skin. “Bad news… these have barely healed since you first got them, so you’ll need to seriously take it easy until your healing factor kicks back in.”

“So that hickey is going to take awhile to heal, too, if things remain as they are,” Wanda casually tossed out, picking at her nails.

Bucky swallowed, mortified by being called out by teenagers good lord, what was his life coming to?! He hadn’t even realized the blanket had fallen off Steve’s broad frame when Wanda was maneuvering him into the bathroom.

“It’s a bruise from the fight,” Steve casually shrugged, looking both teens in the eye and not displaying a single sign that he was lying.

‘Impressive,’ Winter whistled. ‘Unlike you, Barnes, get it together! They could read it off your face if they weren’t too busy trying to stare Steve down to make him confess.’

Bucky smoothed his expression out. “Does he need new stitches?”

Peter tore his eyes away from his judgmental staredown with Steve and gave a small shrug. “These look fine, but considering there was a Hydra agent in the Medical wing… I can easily take them out and redo them. I don’t know how long it’ll take for his healing to kick back in, so it’s up to you guys.”

“Please redo them,” Steve answered with no hesitation, and Bucky was relieved they shared the same thought process.

They had Friday alert Natasha of what supplies they required, and she sent a briefcase up to their apartment filled to the brim with anything and everything within minutes.

Steve carefully (finally) took his shirt off, and both Peter and Bucky glared in annoyance when they saw there were a few other slashes on his upper chest.

“Oops?” Steve awkwardly chuckled, refusing to meet eyes with anyone in the bathroom. “They don’t hurt, so I didn’t even know they were there.”

“Jesus, pal, let us see your back, then,” Bucky demanded, his jaw clenched.

Steve twisted around, and Bucky was mollified to see nothing terrible except a few bruises that thankfully appeared to be in the early stages of healing.

“How badly did you get your ass kicked?” Bucky growled under his breath, not caring that he would be overheard by both Peter and Steve.

Peter shot Wanda a stern look, and suddenly the witch was standing up and threading her fingers through Bucky’s. “Let’s give them some space, yeah?”

“But -”

“Steve is a big boy, I’m sure he can handle getting stitches on his own.”

Bucky glanced unhappily at Steve as she dragged him through the door, and the other man flashed him a fake smile that Bucky assumed was supposed to be reassuring (it was not).

Wanda refused to let go of his hand until she pulled him all the way into the stairwell.

“What is the meaning of this?” he glowered, alternating between glaring at her and glaring at the closed door leading back into their apartment. He felt like his skin was igniting in flames that grew larger and larger with every step he took away from his friend, the incessant need to be near Steve after such a traumatic event dominating his mind.

“I need to talk to you, obviously,” she glared back, hands on her hips in a position so like Steve that he felt some of his anger slipping. “It was either mildly significant distance, Sokovian, or Russian, and I know you aren’t a fan of the latter two…my French, unfortunately, is not that good.”

‘Which is very discriminatory of you by the way,’ Winter rudely remarked. ‘I am appalled by your prejudiced behavior.’

‘Eh, I’m with future-self on this one,’ past-Bucky shivered. ‘Russian isn’t my favorite after everything that happened after the train, and Sokovian is quite similar.’

‘... okay, fine,’ Winter sighed aggrievedly, and Bucky was momentarily shocked at the easy acquiesce until he realized Winter wasn’t giving into him but to their past-self, and wasn’t that a curious tidbit?

‘Focus, Barnes,’ Winter groused, and Bucky would bet the Soldier would be blushing if he was in front of him right now.

“Okay, so talk,” he snarked back, pretending like she wasn’t totally right in her deductions.

“How are you, James? Truly,” she calmly asked in the face of his anger, dropping her arms back down and leaning casually against the wall, never once taking her eyes off him.

Bucky sighed, allowing the rest of his anger to drain away as he mimicked her position. “Stressed? I don’t know, honestly. Steve pulled the IV out of his arm before she could inject the stuff again, but she still got him once with some unknown substance when we were asleep. I assume it’s similar, if not the same, as the venom from the ‘dinosaurs’… but that would mean those Florida scientists are working with Hydra, so there’s that to deal with. And how did she get into Stark Tower? How did nobody notice this random new person? Wanda… it all freaks me out. Steve’s not even safe right next to me, so will he ever be safe?”

(If I can’t keep him safe when he’s within arm’s distance from me, am I doomed to fail my mission? Have I been delusional by thinking I’m the optimal choice to protect him? If I can’t prevent him from being harmed, what do I have to offer him anymore? Would he be safer if I left?)

Wanda frowned in thought. “I’m sure Nat and Tony will get to the bottom of it; Tony is completely aghast that a Hydra agent got into his super fancy high tech building, and from what Nat says, Pepper and Maria are on the warpath.” They both shuddered at the thought of that fearsome duo, and knowing those two were a part of the investigation helped ease some of Bucky’s worry. “But it’s not your fault, James, and you did your best to protect him when you realized what was happening.”

He sighed, sinking to the floor to sit since he had the feeling this would be a long conversation. “I mean, I suppose you’re right, but I still feel like a failure, you know? I was literally right f*cking there, and yet…”

This time she mimicked his position, joining him cross-legged on the ground, their backs pressed against the wall. “I understand, emotions rarely follow logic, which is beyond frustrating… what was it that gave her away?”

“You’ll love this… Winter and past-Bucky warned me someone came in while we were asleep and acted suspiciously,” he explained before a merciless smile formed on his face. “But they needn’t have bothered because when she came in and called him their ‘favorite star patient’ I knew immediately she was a fraud.”

Wanda laughed gleefully at his explanation. “The biggest red flag she could have waved, and of course it’s the one she went with… f*ck Hydra.”

“f*ck Hydra,” he chuckled, feeling somewhat lightened already by their conversation… except when he realized she wouldn’t pull him all the way out here for something as benign as how he was feeling after his best friend was poisoned in front of him. “What do you really want to know? Or tell me?”

She turned to him in surprise, and Bucky co*cked an eyebrow at her shocked form. “Come on, Wanda, really? You wouldn’t drag me all the way out here for something so silly.”

She sighed, red tinting her cheeks at being called out. “A few things, to be honest. I guess starting with the easiest one… have you heard from Caleb recently? Peter’s in conniptions over his sudden lack of contact, and I’m not sure how I feel about it all.”

‘Haven’t heard from him since we sent the pictures of the cat purchases a week or so ago,’ past-Bucky helpfully recalled. ‘To be fair, he responded with a heart emoji, and we haven’t sent anything since.”

Bucky relayed this information to Wanda, and the witch bit her lip as she processed his words. “I’m not sure if he’s trying to distance himself from Peter for one reason or another or if something did happen to him, but do you mind reaching out, please? Even if he’s just being a dick and ghosting, I would rather Peter know that than think Caleb’s dead in a ditch somewhere.”

“Ghosting?” Bucky questioned, his eyes widening in alarm, but he pulled out his phone anyways, typing a quick ‘hey, how have you been?’ to his friend. “Does he think Caleb’s watching him from the vents or something but not texting him back?”

Wanda giggled, her nose scrunching cutely. “You’re so precious. No, ghosting is when someone stops texting the other person back with no explanation at all… it’s common, actually, but considered quite rude.”

‘So is watching someone from an air vent without their knowledge, yet we do it all the time,’ Winter shrugged. ‘Ask for more info, I am curious about this sudden dalliance between the two.’

“I mean… not to defend Caleb if he’s being rude, but why would Peter be so upset by Caleb not texting back?” Bucky asked cautiously, feeling awful for being so out of the loop with his three closest non-Steve friends.

Wanda stared blankly at him. “Because… they’re dating?”

‘WHAT?!’ all three parts of his mind screamed collectively.

“WHAT?!” he screeched out loud, not caring how piercingly his voice echoed in the stairwell; it would bother his enhanced hearing more than it would anyone else, so whatever. “Uhhh, since WHEN?”

Wanda shrugged uncomfortably. “I thought you knew… it’s not really my place to say, but I wouldn’t bring it up to Peter at the moment since it’s a touchy subject.”

He nodded in agreement, still internally annoyed by the lack of additional information after such an Earth shattering revelation; he supposed it was karma for being so self-absorbed lately… he mentally promised himself he’d make more of an effort to be a better friend to the others moving forward. “Fine.”

“I think he’s planning to go by his house tomorrow, despite how many times I’ve told him that’s creepy.”

‘Suggest observation via the air vent!’ Winter excitedly advised. ‘When executed properly, it’s a flawless option for proper recon.’

Bucky frowned, turning the idea over in his head (Peter’s, not Winter’s). “I see where you’re coming from, but maybe I should go by, just in case something has happened.”

She quickly shook her head. “No, you stay with Steve. I was planning to go with Peter, whether he liked it or not.”

Bucky smiled, his heart warming at the reminder of how close the two teens were with one another, especially since both of them lost so many important people at such a young age.

“So… speaking of Steve,” she trailed off, shooting him a knowing look.

“Yes?” he swallowed, glad her normal hearing abilities wouldn’t pick up his pounding heart.

Wanda sighed in exasperation and rolled her eyes. “I know you kissed.”

‘WHAT?!’ all three parts of his mind screamed simultaneously. Again.

‘We are being watched from the air vents!’ Winter shouted angrily. ‘There is no other explanation. We must rectify this atrocity immediately.’

‘Uh, not to be that guy or anything,’ past-Bucky quickly cut in. ‘But there are easily a dozen viable explanations that make more sense than that, and let’s be real here, you monitor the vents religiously and would know if someone was watching us… unless you’re not as good of a spy as you say you are?’

‘HOW DARE YOU!’ Winter roared, and Bucky sighed internally, having naively thought that these screaming matches between his two past-selves would be a thing of the past. ‘I am far superior than your pathetic brain could begin to comprehend -‘

‘Exactly!’ past-Bucky exclaimed, which immediately shut Winter up. ‘So it’s not the vents. Now, shut up so we can listen to Wanda.’

“I… I do not know of which you speak,” he disagreed, his eyes boring into the wall in front of him and willing the heat in his cheeks to dissipate.

“Puh-lease, James, you don’t need to be a mind reader to see things have shifted between you two.”

‘So… she’s guessing we kissed…’ past-Bucky tentatively concluded. ‘And knows nothing.’

He crossed his arms over his chest, tuning out the voices in his head. “No, nothing has changed, not really. We were cuddling on the couch when I was the one on bed rest after the Thor incident… he told me he loved me, then kissed me. But it was as a friend, you know?”

‘And, naturally, Barnes goes along and falls right into her trap,’ Winter groaned.

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I do not know, actually. Kissed you on the cheek?”

“No,” he shook his head, hating the entirety of this conversation already. He debated the merits of throwing himself down the stairwell, but decided none of them needed a trip to the Medical wing anytime soon. “On the lips.”

Wanda’s eyes went wide, her mouth dropping open in surprise. “Full story, please?”

He begrudgingly recounted the entire memory starting from Steve’s declaration of love up until they fell asleep together on the couch, Wanda’s eyebrows creeping progressively up her forehead as he talked (he knew she could have witnessed the memory using her powers, but he wanted to keep that personal moment between him and Steve, at least for now).

“Wow,” she whistled, stunned. “And you’ve kissed since?”

Cheeks beet red, he counted off the other times. “The next morning before he went on the mission, in the hospital after he woke up the first time and we talked a bit, in the hospital after the Hydra lady but before everyone barged in, and um… on the couch before you guys came over.”

“I see,” she said, slowly nodding. “And yet… just as friends.”

“Yes, Wanda," he exhaled, struggling to keep his frustration at bay. "The friend part has been clearly established."

“So, thinking aloud here... do you think there’s a possibility he meant it as a confession of love, as in… not platonic, just friends type love but ‘wow, I’m so in love with you in a romantic way’ type love?” she quietly asked, fiddling with a ring on her finger. “From your account, you were the one who threw in the ‘friend’ word, not him.”

‘Ha! What a joke,’ he bitterly snickered to his former-selves; he paused in confusion when they didn’t react. ‘Guys? We all know she’s completely off on this, right?’

‘Well…’ past-Bucky trailed off uneasily. ‘She’s not completely wrong; we were the one to say friend.’

‘So? We just said what he assumed we already knew,’ Bucky bit back.

‘I didn’t want to bring this up, but in the movies and TV shows you imbeciles force me to watch, friends don’t usually do what we do with Steve,’ Winter snootily retorted. ‘I’m pretty certain kissing on the lips repeatedly is not a friend to friend activity.’

‘Okay, but she’s still saying Steve confessed his ROMANTIC love to us… I don’t think she’s correct,’ Bucky argued back, feeling unreasonably angry all of a sudden.

'Who wouldn't love us romantically? Or in any other way someone can be loved?' Winter questioned, his tone serious. 'We are superior. It is known.'

“James?” She gently touched his arm, tearing him from his mental tirade, something he was grateful for... he couldn't handle Winter's ego right now. “I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

“No, I, uh.” He took a deep breath, mentally trying to force his body to relax; he couldn’t imagine how pissed off he looked for her to apologize like that out of the blue. “I don’t know, Wanda. The idea that he could return my feelings after all this time seems outlandish to me. I … why would he say we were best friends right after if he meant it differently, you know?

“He could be scared, too?” she offered kindly. “This is new for him as well. Have you thought or talked with him about where this is all going?”

He shrugged helplessly. “Not at all to both.”

“James.” She lightly placed her hand on his knee. “Be careful, please? In modern terms, we call this type of situation ‘friends with benefits’ - usually the benefits also include sex, sure, but not always. But it always gets messy when there are feelings involved, especially when those feelings aren’t discussed with the other person and boundaries aren’t clearly expressed.”

He shrugged again, wishing he could crawl out of his skin or do something to make this uncomfortable feeling go away. “Wanda, I… I can’t . I can’t say anything, I can’t ruin something I’ve waited my whole pathetic life to come even close to. I never dreamed my feelings would amount to anything except pain and longing, but now I have something and I can’t lose that, I just can’t.”

Wanda placed her hands on his cheeks, forcing him to look her right in the eye. “You’re NOT pathetic, James, and I don’t like hearing you talk about yourself that way,” she glared heatedly at him for several seconds before dropping her hands back down. “But I know, I understand where you're coming from, I promise. I just worry about you.”

“And I appreciate that,” he smiled softly, carefully placing his flesh hand over hers. She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I think it’s my turn to be worried about you now, yeah? What was that thing you and Peter said in the group chat we needed to have soon?”

“A bestie date!” she beamed excitedly. “It’ll be fun, I’ve gone on a few with Nat - “

The peaceful moment was broken by his phone buzzing back to back to back to back in his pocket.

“Caleb?” Wanda asked hopefully, trying to peer over at this screen.

He punched in his passcode, frowning when he saw an increasingly panicked Steve was texting him.

[CaptainStevie]: Bucky!!!! SOS!!!!!!

[CaptainStevie]: !!!!!!!!!!

[CaptainStevie]: Peter started sobbing all of a sudden, I don’t know what to do

[CaptainStevie]: I suggested he turn on some music while he did the stitches

[CaptainStevie]: So he started singing along

[CaptainStevie]: And it was fine, til he started sniffling

[CaptainStevie]: Literally texting this over his head with one hand cuz he’s bawling into my shoulder

[CaptainStevie]: PLEASE COME BACK BUCKY

[CaptainStevie]: He’s playing this one depressing song and then a different about being betrayed, on repeat

[SergeantBB]: christ, omw

[CaptainStevie]: I DON’T KNOW TEXT LINGO AND PETER IS TOO SAD FOR ME TO ASK, JUST HURRY UP!!

[CaptainStevie]: also I’m bleeding everywhere

[CaptainStevie]: :’(

“Wow,” Wanda whistled. “Is he always so dramatic?”

“Yep,” Bucky answered, swiftly standing up. He offered her his hand and pulled her easily to her feet. “He’s also allergic to emotions of any kind; apparently the serum didn’t work as perfectly as everyone thought. f*cking tragic, isn’t it?”

She tossed her head back, her loud laugh echoing in the stairwell. “Well, Sergeant Baby, let’s go save Captain Stevie before he dies from feelings.”

He groaned in embarrassment, knowing his cheeks were likely on fire, again. “One. It’s the letter ‘B’ except twice; Bucky Barnes, since it wasn’t obvious. Two. Steve came up with names for the record.”

Wanda looped her arm through his, leading him back into the apartment. “Say it fast, and what do you get?”

‘Oh sh*t,’ past-Bucky gasped. ‘It does sound like baby!’

‘But we are not babies? I don’t understand,’ Winter complained loudly, much to past-Bucky’s amusem*nt. “Stop laughing, and tell me what it means!’

He shrugged, ignoring his former-selves and leaving past-Bucky to explain the meaning to Winter. “Coincidence. Steve definitely doesn’t know text lingo, as he just stated.”

“Uh huh,” she replied before stopping suddenly in the living room. “Oh god, it’s as I feared.”

“What?” he asked, looking around in concern; Steve and Peter must still be in the bathroom, since only the cats were out in the living room, the kittens huddled anxiously with Grant on the armrest of the couch, likely stressed out by the mix of blaring music and loud sobs in the normally quiet apartment.

She sighed wearily. “He’s playing his ‘Sad Girl Autumn’ playlist. It was originally this one ten minute song on repeat, but it seems like he added another song to it. It makes him cry whenever he listens to it.”

“Oh…” he said, following behind her to the bathroom, stopping briefly to give Grant and the babies a soft, comforting pat on the head.

“Hey, Peter,” Wanda cooed when they entered the bathroom, the music still playing from the speakers overhead.

“Well, maybe we got lost in translation // Maybe I asked for too much // But maybe this thing was a masterpiece // 'Til you tore it all up”

‘Aw, that is kind of a sad song,’ past-Bucky acknowledged. ‘Caleb has some explaining to do for making Peter upset!!’

‘Caleb is nice, remember? I bet it’s just a misunderstanding,’ Winter argued heatedly in return.

‘Caleb is ignoring Peter, so he can’t be that nice!’ past-Bucky hissed in response.

‘Well, maybe Peter did something that warranted being ignored!’ Winter shot back, and Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose as the two kept yelling at each other.

Bucky caught Steve’s eye; he knew it would be terrible to suddenly start laughing, so he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from bursting into giggles at Steve’s panicked deer-in-headlights look. Steve was shirtless, his wounds covered by a bunch of red-stained gauze, likely placed there by Steve when he realized Peter wouldn’t be able to finish his work anytime soon. Peter was standing in front of Steve, his arms wrapped around Steve’s neck and crying loudly into his shoulder (which was about how high he could reach on the older Avenger), Steve’s arm around his shoulders in an attempt to offer some form of comfort.

“Aw, come here, Peter,” Bucky whispered, running his fingers through the boy’s hair. “Can you let go of Steve for me, please?”

Steve held still as Bucky carefully plucked the teen off him, wrapping the tearful boy fully in his embrace instead.

“Sorry,” Peter sniffed, and Wanda handed him a tissue before he could wipe his nose on his sleeve. “M’sorry, Steve, I can finish -”

“Natasha can finish, if that’s okay with you guys?” Wanda suggested, and Steve nodded so fast, Bucky was mildly concerned he would pull a muscle in his neck.

[LittleRedWitch]: Nat, can you come redo Steve’s stitches ASAP plz?

[LittleRedWitch]: There’s been an incident

[SpyDarLing]: Of course, I’ll be right up ⚆ᗝ⚆

[SpyDarLing]: Is Barnes okay with that, though? And do I need to bring clint

[LittleRedWitch]: yes to James

[LittleRedWitch]: No to Clint… except we might need a jumbo order of comfort food

[LittleRedWitch]: Peter turned his Sad Girl Autumn playlist on and… yeah. It didn’t go well

[SpyDarLing]: My poor Spider Child (╥_╥)

[SpyDarLing]: Barnes better whip his friend into shape, or I’m gonna go all Black Widow on his ass

[LittleRedWitch]: you’re gonna have to wait your turn bb, i got dibs (✿╹◡╹)

“They say all's well that ends well, but I'm in a new Hell // Every time you double-cross my mind"

“Sorry,” Peter apologized once more before he burst into sobs again, and Bucky’s heart shattered at the boy’s despair.

“No worries, Peter, truly.” Steve gently patted Peter on the head, casting worried looks at Bucky as he did so. “It’s good to let things out, and you’re in a safe space. We all cry, there’s no shame.”

“Lies, Captain America does- doesn’t cry,” Peter hiccupped, glaring defiantly at Steve over Bucky’s shoulder.

“Captain America sucks at expressing his feelings which isn’t a quality he’s proud of,” Steve agreed with a nod. “And Steve Rogers cries sometimes but wishes he was more like you and Bucky, because showing your honest emotions is one of the bravest things a person can do.”

“Oh…” Peter mumbled, frowning in thought over Steve’s speech.

Bucky shot Steve a grateful smile before heading back into the living room, leaving Wanda to keep Steve company until Natasha arrived.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bucky offered, sitting down on the living room couch with the boy in his lap. He gently wrapped a blanket around them both and soothingly ran his hand across Peter’s back until his tears dried up.

“No thank you,” Peter declined with a sigh.

“Just between us, did the love affair maim you, too?”

‘Wait, no one said anything about maiming!' Winter shouted in alarm after hearing a lyric from the song.

‘Emotional maiming, you idiot!’ past-Bucky screeched. ‘Which can be worse than physical maiming in some instances.’

‘Well… can’t relate to that statement all things considered,’ Winter begrudgingly admitted, and past-Bucky mumbled an apology for his inconsiderate remark.

The song changed, and Bucky frowned as he processed the lyrics.

“You betrayed me // And I know that you'll never feel sorry // For the way I hurt, yeah
“Guess you didn't cheat // But you're still // You're still a traitor”

‘What the f*ck, I’ll maim Caleb myself if he hurt the Spider Child that badly,’ Winter snarled protectively.

“Winter is going to maim Caleb if he doesn’t have a good excuse for disappearing,” Bucky whispered, not expecting a response from the teen.

“Really?” Peter asked, looking up at Bucky with wide, reddened eyes. “But Caleb is his favorite.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, thrown off by such a statement. “What?”

“Wanda and I talked about it once,” Peter explained, matching Bucky’s quiet tone; they both knew how awful it would be to be overheard by Steve when discussing the voices in Bucky’s head. “Caleb is Winter’s favorite because he helped him after the Hydra fallout. I’m past-Bucky’s favorite because I’m similar to Steve, especially before the serum. And Wanda is your favorite because she helped you break your programming fully, and you bonded with all of that.”

“That’s not - that’s not true!” he gaped, horrified by the thought that Peter thinks he favors Wanda over him. “I love you both equally.”

“I didn’t say you loved her more,” he rolled his eyes. “I said she was your favorite. There’s a difference. Like, you love all four of your cat family members, but you will always prefer Grant over the kittens.”

‘Caleb is definitely my favorite,’ Winter acknowledged unapologetically.

‘I do love them all, but Peter’s correct… he’s my favorite,’ past-Bucky tactfully confirmed.

“Oh… I guess maybe you are right,” Bucky hesitantly agreed. “Huh. I never thought about it.”

“Hence, why it’s weird that Winter would offer to maim Caleb,” Peter finished, and Bucky was pleased to see some brightness returning to the boy.

“No, that makes sense, too,” Bucky smirked gleefully. “See, Winter and past-Bucky have been canoodling lately, and Winter is… how do you young people say it? He is whipped for past-Bucky.”

‘I AM NOT!’ Winter exploded, much to Bucky’s immense amusem*nt. ‘DO NOT FEED THIS BOY LIES ABOUT ME TO DISTRACT HIM FROM HIS SADNESS. THE WINTER SOLDIER CARES FOR NO ONE, JUST THE MISSION! AND HE MOST CERTAINLY DOES NOT CANOODLE... I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS, DAMNIT!’

‘Oh,’ past-Bucky breathed, and Bucky pictured his lip wobbling. “After all this time, you don’t care about me? Or future-self?’

‘I mean… that’s not what I said!’ Winter quickly backpedaled. ‘Don’t put words in my mouth.’

‘You literally just said you care for no one,’ past-Bucky sniffed.

‘I like you a lot more than Barnes, that’s for damn sure,’ Winter uneasily responded.

‘I’ll take that for now,’ past-Bucky cheerfully chirped, and Bucky resisted rolling his eyes in response.

“What?!” Peter gasped, his eyes growing even wider. “How is that even possible?”

Bucky shrugged as much as possible with a teen wrapped around him. “No idea, but it’s a mind f*ck, let me tell you.”

Peter’s eyes welled up again, and Bucky was starting to understand Steve’s earlier panic. “Even the Winter Soldier has a boyfriend, and I’m over here, sobbing on your couch, doomed to die alone surrounded by a dozen cats who will feast upon my dead carcass the minute the light drains from my swollen, puffy eyes.”

‘What a lovely image,’ past-Bucky sarcastically remarked, though he sounded fond.

'I do NOT have a boyfriend, how would that even be possible?' Winter scoffed. 'Look what your lies have done, Barnes!'

The elevator slid open at that moment, and Natasha gracefully sauntered in. “But then we’ll have super enhanced spider cats running around, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

“Oh god, kill me now,” Peter whined in embarrassment, incorrectly assuming no one but Bucky would hear his depressing and grotesque monologue.

Bucky eyed Grant critically; he pictured the feline climbing up walls and shooting webs out of his tail, taking down bad guys in a blink of an eye. The large cat ‘mewed’ loudly in greeting when he realized everyone was looking at him. “I don’t know, Grant having enhancements like those sounds kind of f*cking adorable and bad ass.”

“No, Barnes,” Natasha disagreed, rolling her eyes. “It sounds like the beginning of a horror movie.”

“STEVE!” Bucky shouted after momentarily covering Peter’s ears, despite knowing Steve likely started listening in the moment Natasha exited the elevator. “How do you feel about Grant becoming an enhanced super spider cat? He could come on missions with us!”

‘Another pair of eyes to watch Steve’s six,’ past-Bucky muttered contemplatively. ‘Could we make this happen?’

Steve poked his head out of the bathroom and smiled warmly at him. “Uh… anything you want, Bucky, that’s fine.”

Bucky grinned back. “I’ll mention it to Bruce next time I see him!”

“Oh god, what have I started?” Peter murmured forlornly, shoving his face into the couch cushion while Wanda and Natasha shared an easily discernable “what the f*ck” look.

[PepperPotts]: Hey James, just wanted to give you an update so you don’t think I forgot about you

[PepperPotts]: Maria and I are running into a few issues getting you reclassified as ‘alive’

[PepperPotts]: It’s all political bullsh*t and nothing we can’t handle, but it may take longer than previously thought

[PepperPotts]: ʕノ•ᴥ•ʔノ ︵ ┻━┻

[SgtJamesBarnes]: Please let me know if you need anything, I am willing to testify if need be… whatever it takes

[PepperPotts]: No, no, we are trying to avoid putting you through that media circus

[PepperPotts]: You’ve been through enough already

[SgtJamesBarnes]: I appreciate you guys ू(ʚ̴̶̷́ .̠ ʚ̴̶̷̥̀ ू)

[PepperPotts]: It’s our pleasure, dear (⋆ˆ ³ ˆ)♥

Chapter 12: Becoming The Star

Chapter Text

Natasha glided through the living room, making sure to give Peter a kiss on the top of his head as she passed.

She raised a condescending eyebrow at Steve when she entered the bathroom. “Do you know what you agreed to, Rogers?”

Steve ran a hand through his hair, abashed. “Not really, I was in the middle of something with Wanda. It’ll be fine, I trust Bucky.”

She sighed, realizing Clint and Steve were more alike than she thought - they’d go along with anything to keep the one they loved happy, regardless of the consequences. It was sweet, to an extent, but also… sometimes Barnes and herself needed to be told ‘no’ (though Steve had been saying no to allowing Barnes to come on missions for months, so at least he had some backbone… Clint? Not so much). “Okay, well when your super enhanced spider cat destroys your furniture or you know, kills someone, don’t come crying to me.”

Steve’s eyes went wide at her words before he tilted his head in consideration. “Grant’s already smart as f*ck, so having some physical enhancements that kept him strong and,” Steve lowered his voice, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Barnes was occupied, “alive, wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

“If you say so,” Natasha skeptically remarked.

He gave her a pointed look. “It’s odd, Grant didn’t seem to like Clint very much.”

Well, that’s probably because Clint had to chase the beast around for half an hour before cornering him to check for a microchip, so he seems to have excelled at holding grudges like his second dad, so congrats, Rogers, you have a kid after your own heart.

Instead of voicing her thoughts, she shrugged dismissively. “Not surprised, Clint likely smells like Lucky, and you know they say cats and dogs are mortal enemies.”

The corner of Steve’s lips tilted upwards. “If you say so.”

Her phone dinged, and she quickly read the message. “Oh! Hey, the ‘sorry you both almost died recently’ gift I got you two is downstairs.”

“Nat, you didn’t have to -”

“We’ll get it!” Wanda shouted from the living room. “Come on, Peter, James, it is very heavy, and I will definitely need two very strong men to carry it.”

Barnes shifted uneasily, his eyes darting between Steve and the younger woman. “Um, I think Peter can handle it -”

“No -,” Wanda disagreed.

“Wow, rude,” Peter indignantly shouted, his face still pressed into the couch.

“No,” Wanda repeated with a glare at Peter’s back. “Because Peter shouldn’t be showing off his powers, which includes super strength, in front of regular people.”

“Isn’t this what interns are for?” Barnes grumbled, but his resolve shattered when Wanda jutted her bottom lip out, whispering an almost silent, "Please, guys?”

Barnes smoothly picked Peter up off the couch, depositing him gently on the floor and helping the teen smooth his clothes and hair into place; she couldn’t help but smile at the ex-assassin's mother hen tendencies, and after glancing over to Steve, it was evident the other Super Soldier felt the same if his fond smile and heart eyes were anything to go by.

“We can get coffee, too,” Wanda placated, and Peter immediately perked up at the offer of caffeine.

“I have my phone, so -”

“I will call immediately if anything happens in the ten minutes you’re gone,” Natasha calmly interrupted, ignoring Barnes’s put-out huff.

She waited patiently until they left, spreading the necessary equipment out along the sink and cleaning up Peter’s mess. When she heard the elevator doors close, she turned to Steve, ready to embark on her real task.

“Spill,” she commanded, pulling a pair of latex gloves on.

“Spill what?” Steve scoffed, his eyes refusing to meet hers. “Blood? Because that’s been happening for like an hour now.”

Natasha flicked him in the forehead before starting to pull the bloody gauze off his wounds. “Last I heard, you realized you were in love with Barnes. Then, on the jet, you were in a tizzy over some incident between you two, not to mention the awkward elevator moment before you blacked out…did you confess?”

Steve flinched, either from the pain in his wounds or the pain from the memory, she wasn’t sure. “Well, the elevator was a simple misunderstanding - he thought I was upset about his lip ring, can you believe it? Like… Nat, he looks so good with it, my brain literally shut off when I first saw him with it.”

She smirked in response. “It’s quite the look, but I thought you weren’t ready for facial piercings?”

Steve heaved a sigh. “It’s different when they’re on Bucky, who I’ve known basically for forever. But yes, I did confess, and then got swiftly rejected.”

Her mouth dropped open in shock and she paused in her stitch work to glance up at her friend. “No! Tell me everything Rogers, there’s no way Barnes rejected you.”

“Well, he did,” Steve defiantly muttered, but proceeded to tell her everything that happened between the two since he last visited her apartment as she carefully set to work on sewing his skin back together.

“So, yeah, now he expects kisses all the time, which is great, but I still feel like I’m misleading him because he thinks that’s what friends do now in the future.”

God, she couldn’t wait to unpack all of this with Wanda; sure, a part of her felt bad for divulging details Steve entrusted her with, but neither her nor Wanda were talking about the two Super Soldiers simply because they could - they needed to compare data if they had any hope of very subtly nudging these two idiots together, and good f*cking lord, she did not understand how two ‘best friends forever’ could have such epically poor communication skills with one another.

“Steve,” she sighed, internally wishing she could smack her head against the wall a few times (or his… Rogers clearly needed some cognitive recalibration). “One. I am fairly certain Barnes is aware friends don’t kiss each other, considering we’re all friends here and none of us do that. I can honestly assure you that his non-Steve best friends Wanda and Peter don't kiss him behind closed doors.”

Steve bit his lip. “I mean… okay, fair point.”

She cheered internally; “progress not perfection” was her motto when dealing with these two, at least for now. “Two. You need to tell Barnes in very clear, very definitive terms that leave no room for interpretation that you like him. Romantically. As in a ‘please be my romantic boyfriend that I go on boyfriend dates with’ type way.”

The blonde lowered his eyes to the floor. “But if he knows that friends don’t kiss, then why does he accept me kissing him? What if he’s just trying to give me what he thinks I want.”

She screamed on the inside, but kept her face smooth, reminding herself she’s a trained, professional spy who can keep her cool in the face of adversity. “But you do want that.”

Steve threw his hands in the air. “But what if he only does that because he thinks I’ll stop being friends with him or kick him out if he doesn’t return my feelings.”

“Maybe he kisses you because he likes you, too!” Natasha shouted; f*ck staying calm, Rogers clearly needed a good kick in the face. “Are you f*cking blind, Steve, honestly? Are you blind? That man is so in love with you, I don’t understand how you cannot see what LITERALLY f*ckING EVERYONE ELSE BUT YOU SEES!"

Steve's eyes went wide, and he slowly backed away while holding his hands up until he bumped into the bathroom wall. “Can you put the knife down, please?”

Her chest heaved as she tried to regain her breath, but when she glanced down, she was surprised to see the blade in her hand. “Sorry, I just… I, um, care about you, and you’re just so willfully blind with this, and I don’t understand, Steve. You two could be so happy if you just talked.”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping, and Natasha felt somewhat bad for making him look like a kicked puppy (even though she KNOWS he needed to hear it... she probably could have said it without the shouting, though. Or pulling the knife... she was a work in progress, okay?). “To be fair, I might be almost a hundred, but I’ve never had a girlfriend, not technically, and definitely not a boyfriend.”

Natasha snorted, pocketing the knife. “I wonder why.”

He ignored her comment and swept her into a tight, one-armed hug. “I promise I’ll work on discussing my feelings better with him, okay? But thank you for always listening and stitching me back together.”

She patted him on the back. “Someone has to, so might as well be me.”

He laughed lightly, and the two began making their way into the living room after cleaning up until Steve stopped abruptly, causing her to almost smash her face into his back. “Wait, okay, what’s the deal with Peter? I’ve never seen him so upset.”

Natasha’s face hardened. “Barnes better watch his friend Caleb; apparently he’s been chatting constantly with Peter since right after our first Florida mission, and they've been officially dating since Peter asked Caleb out right after his birthday, but then he suddenly stopped talking to him out of nowhere. And, naturally, Peter is upset by this."

Steve opened and closed his mouth a few times, struggling for words. “What?! Did Bucky know they were together? I can’t believe he wouldn’t tell me something like that… hell, I didn’t know Caleb and Peter even knew each other.”

She shrugged, perching delicately on the recliner next to Grant; she scratched the feline under the chin and felt smug when the cat purred loudly in return. “Don’t think he knew, it’s all fairly recent, and you two have been in and out of the Medical wing for the last few weeks.”

Steve walked into the kitchen and returned quickly with a plate of cookies and a drink for each of them. Natasha took a few cookies happily, dunking one into the mug of coffee Steve handed her next.

“Well, personally, I can’t wait until Tony finds out,” Steve fumed, his eyes burning with anger. “I know Bucky likes this kid, but the whole situation has always given me weird vibes.”

“Mmhm,” she agreed, her mouth full with Aunt May’s delicious homemade baking; she would admit, she was slightly jealous of how many sweets Peter’s Aunt always gifted to the Super Soldier Duo… she wasn’t sure if they were her favorite in the Tower (or more specifically, if Bucky was her favorite due to either his traumatic past that tugged on most people’s heartstrings when they saw how adorable he was or the fact that he was Peter’s friend/idol and Steve simply benefited because of his close relationship to the former-assassin) or if she made them more treats because they had higher metabolisms, but the American Heroes Duo always got epic amounts of delicious food, and it wasn’t fair.

“Speaking of the Medical wing, since ya know... Caleb's going to end up there sooner rather than later, did you find anything on the murdery nurse?”

Natasha shook her head, but held up a finger while she finished chewing her fourth cookie. “No, but Bruce says the venom in the IV bag is the same as the ones in the creepy dinosaur experiments from Florida. And it’s specifically designed to target Super Soldiers only.”

Steve’s brow furrowed. “That seems like a lot of effort to design something that will target two people out of seven billion.”

She shrugged but knew he had a point. “True, it’s possible someone really has a grudge against one of you, but those creatures could still do a lot of damage to regular people.”

He nodded in agreement, and she went back to dipping her last cookie into her coffee, noting how perfectly the ginger of the treat blended with the vanilla coffee creamer.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Steve blurted after several minutes of silence.

A lifetime of training prevented her from jumping in alarm at being called out. “What?”

His eyes narrowed at her. “I know you’re hiding something, I can tell.”

She snorted. “No -”

“Natasha.”

She sighed, pretending to be annoyed but was actually impressed he figured her out - the spy part of her was screaming at her to do better, be better, but the ever growing rational part of her assumed this is what happens when you let yourself be vulnerable with people you trust. “It’s just a theory, but Bruce thinks that by slowing the healing of Super Soldiers, they could then add another chemical substance that would essentially work as a mind control agent, something similar to what the Red Room used with the Widows.”

Steve swallowed, and his eyes widened in fear at her words… or so she thought, until she heard the sound of the elevator doors opening to reveal Peter, Wanda, and a terror-stricken Barnes, all color drained from his face.

“It’s just a theory Bruce came up with,” Natasha hurriedly explained, hoping she could smooth the situation before it exploded. “We have no idea what their plans are… could just be looking for an easier way to kill one of you, we have no idea.”

“Natasha,” Steve hissed as he slowly stood up and carefully walked towards Barnes. “Not helping.”

“We’re working on an antidote,” she meekly offered, standing up as well.

Peter lifted the huge cardboard box into the center of the living room, Wanda following close behind as Steve entered the elevator to whisper comforting words to his shell-shocked friend.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to the teens.

“They needed to know just in case,” Wanda quietly responded, standing next to her in a show of comfort.

“Can I open it?” Peter asked her with a strained smile; she had no doubt the youngest was listening to the conversation in the elevator.

Natasha nodded, and the three of them silently ripped the packaging apart. Steve and Barnes joined them after a few minutes, Steve’s arm draped protectively over Barnes’s shoulder, pressing him tightly into his side.

“Oh wow,” Barnes murmured, his eyes raking over the bubble chair. “I’ve never seen a chair like that.”

“It can be mounted on the ceiling, if you’re interested,” Natasha explained. “Like your own little world above everything. And it’s Stark designed, so it’s got a lot of different features and gadgets that are all explained in the manual, but the most important one is this.”

She pressed a button on the side panel, and the five of them watched as the bubble chair doubled in size, transforming it into more of a loveseat than a chair (she assumed Barnes would like the chair more than Steve would, but she figured it’d be a better gift if they could use it comfortably together).

“Ooh,” Barnes whispered, some color coming back into his form. “That’s so cool and thoughtful, thank you.”

Natasha nodded in acknowledgement; she was surprised, however, when Barnes pulled away from Steve and stepped directly in front of her. She resisted the urge to step back and instead tilted her chin up to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he said, surprising everyone in the room. “I was a dick to you these last few months, and you didn’t do anything to warrant such treatment. In fact, you’ve been nothing but kind and understanding, and for my despicable behavior, I’m truly sorry.”

A million thoughts ran through her mind, most prominently - Did you ever consider why you were such a dick, Barnes? Were you perhaps, JEALOUS, of my closeness with Steve, because you, perhaps, have romantic FEELINGS for him?!

Natasha knew that wasn’t a socially respectable response, so she settled with, “Water under the bridge, Barnes. No hard feelings.”

“Bucky,” he corrected with a frown. “My friends call me Bucky.”

She couldn’t help herself and peered around Barnes’s frame to look at Steve - as expected, the blonde was all but overflowing with pride and fondness, and she was somewhat surprised he remained quiet for so long.

“James,” she compromised (she was with Wanda on this one - it felt weird calling a grown man ‘Bucky ’).

“Sure,” he laughed, glancing over her head to share a look with the teens behind her.

Bucky spent the rest of the afternoon securing the chair into the high ceiling with Peter’s help; while the initial unboxing and assembly was easy, both of them were cautious to celebrate until they ensured the entire contraption was reinforced and able to hold the weight of two Super Soldiers, their four membered feline family, and two teenagers at the same time without pulling the ceiling down on top of them all. They even went as far as to get Stark’s official approval, which despite the tediousness of the whole endeavor, ended up being completely worth it to see Peter beam under the praise of his mentor.

“This is kind of nice,” Steve commented when the others left; the two of them were snuggled tightly together on the expanded chair, the ‘rocking’ aspect activated so it was like laying in a hammock suspended from the ceiling. They could also rotate the chair around with the push of a button; currently they were facing the windows, but they could just as easily rotate it around to watch a movie on their insanely large television screen. The cats were still cautious of the chair, and the four animals watched them curiously from the nearest wall perch (Bucky was glad the chair had a railing of sorts on the open side which could be raised to prevent anyone from accidentally rolling off in the middle of the night while still leaving enough of an opening so it didn’t feel claustrophobic... otherwise, he knew Winter would bitch up a storm about safety).

Bucky pressed a light kiss to Steve’s cheek. “Told you the future was awesome.”

‘You ain’t lying, either,’ past-Bucky giggled. ‘This chair is f*cking awesome… look at the view! It’s like we’re floating in the clouds.’

‘It’s also an excellent perch in the case of an attack,’ Winter noted, ever practical.

Steve laughed softly, his face glowing in the moonlight streaming in through the windows. “Only cuz you’re here with me.”

His friend’s comment reminded him of their earlier discussion when Natasha and the kids were here - he hated to ruin the moment, but Bucky needed Steve to understand something extremely important to him.

“Steve,” Bucky started, his tone serious. He paused, searching for the words to explain what he wanted to say, but struggled on where to begin; he didn’t want to sound anxious or pessimistic, but he also needed the reassurance only Steve could offer him.

Steve tapped a button on the side panel on the chair, and the rocking motion stopped; they both sat up so they were sitting side by side, with Steve keeping his arm securely around Bucky’s shoulders.

“What is it, Buck?” Steve asked quietly, his eyes searching Bucky’s face for a clue to where this was going.

Bucky bit his lip, his eyes lowered to his clasped hands in his lap. “Stevie, I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything,” Steve answered immediately, his expression so unbelievably earnest that it had Bucky scoffing in response.

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say,” Bucky huffed, pretending to be annoyed to hide how f*cking endeared he was by this man.

“Doesn’t matter, I will do anything in my power to give you what you need or want, pal, you gotta know that by now,” Steve shrugged easily; Bucky hoped this would remain true, but he wasn’t holding his breath - Steve would typically go out of his way to help people, but he could also be extremely stubborn if he didn’t agree with something.

‘I know this is a serious moment,’ past-Bucky commented, his voice mischievous in the back of Bucky’s thoughts. “But please make up something ridiculous to see if he’ll do it.’

‘Or, here’s an idea - how about you get to the point so we can get back to the peaceful mood you just destroyed,’ Winter snidely remarked. ‘This is the perfect atmosphere for planning our new training regime, and low and behold, you ruined it.’

“Okay.” Bucky sighed, bracing himself for the inevitable argument. “Remember earlier when Natasha was talking about Bruce’s theory about the venom?”

“Yes. Those were just theories, though, he doesn’t know anything,” Steve stressed, tightening his grip on Bucky. “You don’t need to worry about anything, Buck - we’ll take care of you... I’ll take care of you, promise.”

“But that’s just it, Steve, I do worry,” Bucky growled, already growing frustrated - he didn’t want to rehash memories of Hydra controlling him, that was all supposed to be in the past, nothing more than fuel for his nightmares.

But f*cking Hydra refused to let him live his life in peace, and that enraged him to his core… and made him so insanely terrified, sometimes he felt like a weight was pressing, pressing, pressing on his chest, and he’d never be able to breathe again.

He worried over what they would make him do to the people he loved if they ever got control of him again - the stakes were higher now than they were as the Winter Soldier, because the Winter Soldier cared about nothing except the mission, considering missions were the only thing he knew. But Bucky Barnes cared about so many people, or at least cared for a handful of people so intensely that it felt like he loved a million people with his entire being; he couldn’t begin to fathom the soul crushing pain he’d feel if he hurt a single one of them. “So I need you to promise me that if they ever get control of me again, you’ll be the one to take me out with whatever force is necessary. Make sure I don’t hurt anyone, not you or the kids or the other Avengers, no one.”

‘He’s not gonna agree,’ past-Bucky somberly warned, his previous mischievousness disappearing completely. “Like… ever.’

‘He needs to be prepared, though,’ Winter argued, sounding more contemplative than annoyed for once. ‘It’s good to have a contingency plan - expect the worst, prepare for the worst, and if everything goes well, then good. If it doesn’t, then at least you’ve prepared properly and can still complete the mission.’

“We can look after ourselves, Buck. We all have powers or enhancements or training that regular people don’t. We’ll be okay,” Steve attempted to soothe him, which, unsurprisingly, did not work. “And god forbid if Bruce’s theory is accurate, we’ll find an antidote.”

Bucky shook Steve’s arm off his shoulders, turning to face his oldest friend. He placed his metal hand carefully on Steve’s cheek, hoping the subtle action would force Steve to remember who he used to be - the fist of Hydra, their number one asset, the infamous, murderous, unfeeling Winter Soldier. “I will not be able to live with myself if I hurt anyone again, Steve. What if they have me kill Wanda? Or Natasha? Peter? Or f*ck, what if they have me try to kill you again? I understand this is all just a theory, but it’s in an assassin's nature to plan for the worst. I need you to do whatever is necessary to neutralize me, even if the only solution results in my death. You have to understand, Steve, I’d rather die than let them control me again, even for a second.”

Steve reared back, his face paling as he looked at Bucky in horror. He shook his head repeatedly, words tumbling out of his mouth in a hurry “No, no, absolutely not. That’s never going to happen, Buck, I can’t - I won’t do that or let that happen to you. No. We can take care of ourselves. Wanda has her magic, Natasha is just as highly trained as you, and Peter and I are enhanced, plus he’s got his spider senses thing going on - we’ll be fine. I’ll find a way to subdue you non-lethally until we get an antidote if they somehow get you - but I am not going to just let you die, or worse, kill you myself.”

‘I know we like Natasha now, but let’s be real - she is not, never has been, and never will be as highly trained as us,’ Winter sniffed arrogantly.

Bucky sighed, dropping his hand down. “What happened to, ‘I’d do anything for you, Buck’?”

Steve’s face hardened, his jaw clenching. “Bucky. You have to understand, I would rather die than live without you again. Is that selfish? Totally. But I will traverse across the entirety of Earth and all nine f*cking realms to find a cure if that would bring me another day with you by my side.”

“I don’t understand how you can look at me now knowing a fraction of what I’ve done, but if they control me again, Steve, you’d be disgusted -”

“No , Bucky, that’s not true. Look, you want honesty?” Steve placed his hands on Bucky’s cheeks, holding him in place so he could stare him directly in the eye as he spoke. “As f*cked up as it sounds, it doesn’t matter to me what you do under their control - it won’t change how I feel about you. You could wipe out everyone else on the entire planet, the Team included, and I would still do everything in my power to save you. I’ve loved you with all my heart for a lifetime, Buck, and no one, Hydra included, will stand in my way of loving you for a dozen more lifetimes to come.”

“Oh,” Bucky whispered, his throat tightening as a wave of tears collected in his eyes. He knew Steve loved him, of course he did, but to hear him say it like that in his own words had something dangerous burning in his chest - hope.

“That is, uh,” Steve stammered, his cheeks flaming red. He dropped his hands into his lap, his eyes suddenly unable to meet Bucky’s own. “If you’ll have me, of course.”

“Always,” Bucky promised, tucking his face into Steve’s neck and wrapping his arms around Steve’s slender waist.

A few minutes passed before Bucky was able to speak again. “I’m sorry for asking that of you,” he whispered. “I’m just scared.”

“Me too,” Steve admitted, pressing a firm kiss on the top of Bucky’s head. “But we’ll get through it the same way we got through things when we were younger - together.”

They fell asleep in the bubble chair, lulled into a dreamless sleep by the peaceful rocking and warmth radiating from each other’s bodies. Upon waking, Bucky immediately checked over Steve’s wounds and was amazed by how much they healed overnight.

“Another day, and I should be all healed,” Steve boasted, looking in the bathroom mirror at the mostly healed cuts on his chest and abdomen.

‘At least the venom doesn’t seem to be long lasting,’ past-Bucky observed. ‘And he clearly hasn’t lost any muscle mass, thank goodness.’

‘Unlike us,’ Winter bemoaned.

‘No body shaming!’ past-Bucky screeched, and Bucky smiled internally as his two former-selves fell into their usual bickering.

“Well, you aren’t getting off bed rest until they’re completely gone,” Bucky firmly decreed. “And it’s my turn to dote on you while you heal, so don’t get any funny ideas.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stared Steve down, daring him to disagree.

Steve cheekily saluted him in the mirror. “As you command, Sergeant.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, willing his cheeks to not blush at the comment. “Can I finally introduce you to the Harry Potter movies?”

“As you command, Sergeant.” Steve dropped his shirt back down, brushing past Bucky as he made his way into the living room (but not before placing a soft kiss on Bucky’s definitely pink cheeks… ugh, why couldn’t the serum cure him of such embarrassing bodily functions?)

They made it through the second movie by lunchtime; Bucky was pleased by how engaged Steve was with the films, asking questions and commenting on the various aspects of Harry’s magical world so often that Bucky had to pause the movies at certain times to explain some of the more complex parts of the series (while delicately avoiding spoilers).

“You okay, buddy?” Bucky asked as the Chamber of Secrets credits were rolling on the screen, and Steve hadn’t turned to him and demanded he put the next movie on immediately like he did when the first one ended.

“No,” Steve answered. Bucky waited patiently for more, but Steve remained uncharacteristically silent, his eyes unfocused.

Bucky poked his friend repeatedly in the side. “What’s wrong?”

Steve swatted Bucky’s hand away and turned to face him with a frown. “I’m having an identity crisis, jeez, why are you so violent? That’s gonna leave a mark.”

Bucky smirked unrepentantly. “Guess you’ll have to stay on bed rest longer. But lemme guess… you realized you aren’t actually a Gryffindor, at least not fully?”

Steve gasped. “You knew?! How could you let me live this lie?!”

Bucky shrugged. “It’s not technically a lie. Captain America is a Gryffindor. But Steve Rogers? You are the poster child for Slytherin house.”

“But…” Steve chewed on his lip, looking torn. “Isn’t that the evil and racist house?”

“No!” Bucky glowered, throwing his hands up. “I was hoping you’d have this realization at the end of the series… but no, Slytherin isn’t automatically evil or prejudiced. It’s the choices you make that define you. You’re resourceful, cunning, ambitious, and tactical, which makes you a good leader, especially because you have such a strong sense of morals and ethics. And, ironically, yes, you will lie, cheat, or manipulate to achieve your goal, which is technically ‘bad’, but those goals are generally to serve the greater good. It’s complex, but isn’t that type of turmoil what makes us human?”

Steve nodded and smiled softly at Bucky. “And I have my trusty Hufflepuff best friend to keep me grounded, right?”

Bucky leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Steve’s forehead. “Exactly! You’re welcome.” He stood up and headed into the kitchen. “I’m hungry, let me make lunch before we start the next one.”

“Okay,” Steve yawned in agreement.

‘Take a while to make lunch, it would be good for Steve to take a nap,’ past-Bucky commented.

‘He should eat first to keep his strength up,’ Winter disagreed, and the two quickly fell into another back and forth bickering match that had Bucky frowning - they were usually at each other’s throats, sure, but not this often so early in the day, and not over such petty things.

Bucky’s phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled the device out confusedly, wondering if Steve really texted him from one room over. He was pleased to see Caleb’s name pop up on the screen until he read the message.

[CalebLowOnRum]: Hey Bucky, I’m good. Haven’t seen you in a while, you should come by sometime soon. Today would work if you’re free.

‘Bucky?’ past-Bucky questioned.

‘Bucky?!’ Winter growled.

‘Who the hell is Bucky?’ he shrieked to his former-selves. ‘Has he ever called us anything other than Winter?’

‘No,’ past-Bucky knowledgeably answered. ‘Not even after meeting the kids who each call you something different.’

‘f*ck, okay, this is not good.’

He swiped the messaging app closed and dialed Wanda’s number. He tapped his fingers against the counter as the phone rang and rang, but to his frustration, she didn’t pick up. Bucky clicked Peter’s contact next, his emotions shifting from frustration to worry as the line continued to ring until finally the teen picked up.

“Hey, Bucky!” Peter chirped. “I’m in the lab with Mr. Stark working on your new suit, it’s going to be so awesome, man, I can’t wait for you to see it. Your designs were phenomenal, and Mr. Stark has some hella rad upgrade ideas, and dude, it’s going to be legendary, I’m kind of jealous.”

“That’s awesome, I’m excited to see it,” Bucky answered truthfully. “But hey, have you seen Wanda? She didn’t answer when I called.”

“I asked if she wanted to go visit… um, yeah, but she said she couldn’t because she was going to hang out with you and Steve all day, something about helping Steve do his taxes, which, boring,” Peter uneasily replied with a fake laugh. “So I came down to the lab.”

“Yeah, she hasn’t shown up… oh wait, how weird, she’s stepping off the elevator now,” he lied, trying not to feel guilty. “Sorry for bothering you!”

“No worries, I’ll catch you later,” Peter mumbled, and yep, Bucky felt horrible for being dishonest.

‘f*ck, okay, this is potentially really bad,’ he grumbled to the others. ‘But maybe she’s just busy with Vision and didn’t want Peter to tease her.’

‘Call the Widow,’ Winter commanded to the surprise of Bucky and past-Bucky. ‘She seems to always have tabs on everyone - she likely knows where Wanda is, and we cannot wait for answers.’

Swallowing his pride, he pressed Natasha’s number. Steve had forcefully typed into his phone the first day he got the device, ignoring his protests that he’d never call anyone other than Steve and the kids - “You should have it for emergencies, and you know what, on that note, I’m giving you everyone’s number just to be safe. And yes, Buck, they’re going to get yours as well.”

“What’s wrong?” Natasha answered after two rings.

He bit back his snarky comments, reminding himself that they were friends now. He shouldn’t be rude, especially when he’s seeking her help. “Have you heard from Wanda? She didn’t answer when I called, which isn’t that odd I suppose, but she lied to Peter about hanging out with Steve and I all day, some nonsense about taxes?... I don’t think Steve even pays taxes, honestly.”

Her response only increased his anxiety. “Wanda texted me an hour or two ago that she was leaving to go surprise-visit that little friend of yours and didn’t want Peter to witness the beatdown she was going to give him if he turned out to be a dick.”

Bucky’s heart rate picked up, and he found himself unable to respond.

“I’m assuming that’s not good?” she asked, her tone grim.

He took a deep breath, reminding himself of his mission to keep Steve and the kids safe; he needed to calm down and focus, not stress himself into a panic attack. “Can you come sit with Steve, please? He’s napping now, but I don’t want him to wake up alone. I need to run out for a bit.”

“Of course.” Bucky could practically hear her debating if she should push for more details and was surprised when she let it go. “I’ll bring a Widow Bite for you, too.”

‘What the f*ck is a Widow Bite?’ Winter wondered with trepidation.

‘Hopefully something deadly,’ past-Bucky hissed, his protective feelings welling up. ‘I don’t like where this is all going, and if someone f*cked with any of our kids, they better be prepared to die.’

‘Yes, holy sh*t, I love you,’ Winter breathed in awe. ‘I mean, I love that plan, an excellent one indeed, Barnes, please take notes.’

‘We don’t kill people anymore,’ Bucky admonished, deciding to ignore Winter’s little Freudian slip - they had more important things to worry about right now, and if he thought too hard on that entire mess between Winter and past-Bucky, it would only give him a headache.

“Thank you,” Bucky responded, genuinely touched by her offer (even though he didn’t know what exactly she was lending him… it was the thought that counted, right?). “Just please make sure Steve stays either on the couch or in bed; he’s mostly healed but you know he’ll push himself too hard early on. I’ll leave a few sandwiches in the fridge, too, since he fell asleep right before lunch.”

“Don’t worry about it, James, I can feed Steve on my own, pinky promise,” she assured him, sounding amused. “I’ll be down in ten minutes.”

Bucky spent the next nine minutes preparing; he had to keep his head down as he passed by Steve’s sleeping form to get to his room, knowing that if he caught a glimpse of the man he’d be unable to leave without saying a proper goodbye. But then Steve would naturally demand to come with him, and Bucky would, of course, refuse, and they’d compromise by sending Natasha in his place. And while the Black Widow was highly capable of taking care of herself, Bucky knew this was his mess to solve - whatever situation Caleb and Wanda (and Peter) were involved in was due to their association with himself (he didn’t think Caleb was ‘ghosting’ Peter for no reason, though, logically he supposed it was a slim possibility which would mean he was drastically overreacting with this confrontation).

‘Remember the mission,’ past-Bucky recited.

‘Steve is safe with the Widow - it’s the kids who need us now, all three,’ Winter gravely added.

‘We know this is likely a trap, right?’ Bucky mused, strapping various knives under his shirt sleeves.

‘Of course we know it’s a trap!’ Winter snapped. “And we still need to go, but with caution. Remember your decades of training, Soldier.’

‘And if things get bad, just remember the words don’t work on us anymore,’ past-Bucky concluded. 'Besides, anyone who knew them died over a year ago, so we should be good there.'

Bucky finished tucking his guns and blades into his outfit and moved to rifle through his emergency backpack to make sure everything was in order - a first aid kit, another set of knives, extra amo, a wad of cash, his fake ID and passport (and a different fake ID and passport sewn into a secret pouch), a few Stark sports drinks and water bottles, and some non-perishable protein bars).

Bucky spent the ninth minute saying goodbye to his babies, dropping a loving kiss on the head of each cat and obsessively reminding himself that this was NOT a permanent goodbye; just because he was walking into a trap doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be able to walk out of the trap - he was a professional, after all.

By the tenth minute, Bucky was striding back into the living room right as Natasha was exiting the elevator. Her eyes swept up and down his body, and then she tilted her head towards the kitchen. He nodded, and they wordlessly left the living room in an attempt to keep their conversation from waking Steve whom Bucky was relieved to hear softly snoring on the couch (Grant had followed him out of the bedroom to take his customary perch on the armchair, the large feline keeping a watchful eye on his second dad).

“Are you planning to run away?” Natasha quipped, side eyeing his backpack. “Cuz gonna be honest, Steve is not going to be okay with that, and I don’t really want to deal with another year of his moody ass while he forces everyone and their brother to hunt you down.”

“Yes, I’m coming back,” Bucky responded, annoyed. “But I need to go, so thank you for doing this.”

She stood tall and looked calmly back at him, her body angled just right to block the doorway. “James, what’s going on?”

He opened his mouth to reiterate that he needed to leave now, but she smoothly cut him off. “The Winter Soldier worked alone, but Bucky Barnes doesn’t need to - he has a Team, he has friends, he has people who care about him. So, please, don’t brush me off.”

‘Knew she wouldn’t just let us go,’ Winter snorted. ‘And now she has you cornered, quite literally. Just tell her so we can move on.’

“He called me ‘Bucky',” he blurted, feeling stupid the second the words left his mouth. Natasha’s eye twitched in response, and he rushed to explain while showing her the text on his phone. “Caleb. He always calls me ‘Winter.’ But, I texted him yesterday when Wanda asked me to, and he responded a few minutes ago.”

“Hmm.” She peered up at him, her eyes narrowed. “Do you think he’s working with Hydra again?”

‘No!’ past-Bucky gasped.

‘Never,’ Winter hissed, outraged.

“No!” Bucky whisper-shouted, remembering last minute to keep his voice down. “Look, I don’t know what is going on, but I have a bad feeling, so I’m going to scope out the area and try to find Wanda. If I run into an issue, I’ll call or text you. But you CANNOT tell Steve anything.”

She nodded in agreement. “That’s fair. I’ll keep it to myself for now, unless I don’t hear from you.”

“Thank you,” he said, relieved. “I don’t need the Avengers raining down on Caleb yet. Hopefully this is just some weird misunderstanding.”

‘Unlikely,’ Winter responded frankly.

“Oh, that reminds me, I brought you this.” She handed him a device that looked like a thick metal bracelet. “It’s not the usual Widow Bite I wear which is loaded with electricity… realized after I texted you that the metal arm may affect the way they work. So, this one is modified to shoot out a taser disk.” Natasha mimed how to work the gadget.

He strapped the device onto his flesh arm and shyly thanked the Avenger, unused to having anyone besides Steve or the kids care about his well being.

“Be safe, James.” She gently touched his metal arm. “And come home in one piece, okay?”

He offered her what he hoped was a convincing smile, and she moved to the side to let him pass. Unable to help himself, he quietly approached the couch and took a second to memorize the view in front of him - Steve looked almost angelic as he slept curled up on his side in the same way he slept when they were younger, his face smooth and free from worry in the early afternoon sunlight.

“Love you, Stevie,” he whispered, placing a featherlight kiss on his cheek.

Bucky kept his eyes downcast as he left the apartment through the stairwell, not ready to see whatever expression Steve’s other best friend would be wearing at his display of not-really-platonic affection.

The desire to rush to Caleb’s was almost palpable, and all Bucky wanted to do was barge in and get answers immediately. But that would be reckless and potentially dangerous for the kids, so Bucky took his time on the walk, taking a variety of random routes to make sure he wasn’t being followed. He circled the block a few times, keeping his head low and his eyes sharp; when he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, he took to the rooftops, looking for anything out of place to give him a sense of what he should expect.

‘It’s a damn shame we trained Caleb to keep the blinds and curtains closed,’ Winter complained. “Apparently, his neighbors didn’t get the memo, but that doesn’t really help us much since nothing seems to be amiss there either.’

‘Thoughts on how to proceed?’ Bucky surveyed the others.

‘Enter through the upstairs bathroom,’ Winter calmly advised. ‘No one would expect it.’

‘Yeah, one slight problem,’ past-Bucky snapped. ‘How the f*ck would we fit in that tiny window?’

‘We wouldn’t - we use the air vents,’ Bucky answered for Winter. ‘Except, instead of dropping into the basem*nt, we keep crawling until we get to the bathroom.’

‘Exactly.’ Bucky swore he heard a hint of pride in Winter’s response. ‘And we’ll be able to sense anyone else in the house.’

After checking to make sure the coast was clear, Bucky soundlessly removed the outside grate cover and shimmied into the vent, knowing from prior experience that both his full body and the backpack strapped to his back would fit in the fit (and yes, he did crawl around the vents when they first moved in to make sure it was safe, and yes, he did spy on the neighbors next door since they moved in a week after them to ensure they weren’t secretly Hydra agents who somehow discovered and followed them, and yes, he did purposefully do things to convince the tenants that the place was haunted until they moved out, and no, he does not feel guilty that the realtor was never able to rent the unit after that because it was the first moment of fun he had in decades).

He paused when he hovered over the basem*nt, straining his hearing as hard as he could until he counted seven different people breathing - one was breathing quickly as if they were anxious, one was breathing lightly as if they were sleeping… or unconscious, and five were breathing normally. No one spoke and he didn’t want to risk someone looking up and seeing him through the slits in the vent; it gave Bucky little to work with, but unless Caleb suddenly went out and made a hoard of new friends, there was definitely something going on.

‘Keep moving,’ Winter instructed when Bucky hesitated at the basem*nt vent. ‘We have nothing to go on except Caleb’s not alone. Dropping in now would likely be suicide or you end up murdering innocent people, and despite what Steve says about not caring what we do, I personally do not think that would go over well since we cannot claim being controlled by someone else.’

Bucky followed his former-self’s instructions and quietly dropped down from the upstairs bathroom vent after ensuring the other rooms in the house were empty. He skulked through his former home, Winter and past-Bucky following closely on his heels, checking and double checking each room in search of anything that would provide a clue to the situation he was about to enter.

‘First and second floor are clear, looks like the basem*nt is our only option,’ he commented to the others, not bothering to turn around.

‘Wait,’ past-Bucky instructed, and Bucky glanced over his shoulder. He shot a questioning look at Winter who smirked proudly at past-Bucky’s observation skills. ‘Check the picture on the fridge - we know him, don’t we?’

Winter reached the fridge first and let out a menacing growl when he saw the image. ‘He was with Pierce.’

A much younger and smaller Caleb was in the picture, an older man’s arm tossed proudly around his shoulder as the young boy held up a first-place trophy for a Youth National Marksmanship event.

‘That’s Caleb’s uncle... I think his first name was Brock,’ Bucky confirmed, realizing that either Caleb or Rumlow himself left them this clue on purpose; the picture had been facedown in Caleb’s nightstand drawer the entire time they lived here, and it wasn't up the last few times when Bucky was here either (and yes, Bucky recognized he had extreme boundary and trust issues, and yes, he did feel bad when it came to poking through all of Caleb’s belongings). ‘He was with Hydra, but I thought he died in the battle with the helicarriers.’

‘He’s using the Captain America shield magnet,’ past-Bucky observed. ‘Do you think that’s on purpose?’

‘Undoubtedly,’ Winter grimly predicted. ‘Part of a building fell on Wilson and Rumlow, and as far as we know, only Wilson made it out safely… I assume if Rumlow is alive, he’s not happy with us, Steve, Wilson, or Natasha.’

‘Lovely,’ past-Bucky sarcastically replied. He twisted around to look at Bucky, his eyes filled with fear at the endless possibilities of what they could be walking into. But, despite his concerns, his former-self stood tall and proud, ready to face anything thrown at them if it meant preventing their loved ones from getting hurt instead. ‘Let’s get a move on, then - Wanda could be in danger if she’s here, and lord knows what Rumlow intends to do with Caleb since his enhancements clearly worked.’

Bucky nodded, and the trio silently approached the entrance to the basem*nt. He checked over each shoulder to make sure his past-selves were ready; Winter’s features were smooth and emotionless, but he tilted his head in acknowledgement to the unspoken question. Past-Bucky flashed Bucky a comforting smile and gave him a thumbs up before his face hardened in determination.

Opening the door as quietly as he could, he internally cursed how deep the basem*nt went for the first time ever; when he lived here, he used this room as his preferred base of operations primarily because the staircase was long and went straight down (making it easy to see and shoot intruders), no one could see what was in the room until they went down a few steps (also making it easy to see and shoot intruders since they had no idea what they were walking into), and the lack of windows made it extremely difficult to infiltrate (and in the worst case scenario, he could always escape through the vents, which surprisingly, many people never considered as an option… idiots).

Taking a risk, Bucky threw his body over the railing and landed in a deep crouch, relying on his senses and past-selves to provide extra input. He stood, his gun drawn and ready to fire until his brain registered he was too late and was instead witnessing one of his worst fears - Wanda was unmoving on the floor in front of the futon, her hair singed as if she’d been electrocuted. A burly red-haired man had a gun trained lazily on her, his eyes widening in alarm when he glanced over and met Bucky’s murderous gaze.

‘Approaching mission failure,’ Winter unnecessarily remarked, the metal plates in the Soldier’s arm whirring as he tried to contain his rage.

Caleb sat in his computer chair, his expression pained but looked unharmed overall (though his unkempt appearance made it seem as if he hadn’t slept in weeks).

Rumlow stood smirking behind him, dressed head to toe in all black tac gear with a vest that had a white insignia on the front, resembling either a ‘X’ or crossbones, Bucky couldn’t tell.

‘She’s still breathing,’ past-Bucky reminded him, sensing his heart rate starting to pick up. ‘Stay calm, stay focused, and we can get out of here without any problems. It looks like Caleb is an unwilling accomplice.’

‘Duck,’ Winter commanded the moment Bucky’s senses picked up three people behind him moving within his range.

Bucky obeyed Winter’s orders, dropping back into a crouch right as a knife sailed over his head and lodged itself into the wall behind the couch.

Pulling one of his many blades out, he didn’t bother turning around before letting it fly, knowing by the pained grunt he hit his target.

‘Twist to the right,’ past-Bucky directed, and Winter snorted as a stocky man flew past him and fell to the ground from the force of his own momentum.

‘Shoot out both kneecaps if you won’t kill him,’ Winter blithely suggested. ‘And a hand so he can’t hold a gun.’

Bucky rolled his eyes but dutifully followed the advice. Unwilling to take any chances in this situation, he did the same thing to the other man, smugly noting the blade sticking out his shoulder in addition to the bullet holes in both his kneecaps and his right hand (it wasn’t lethal, but it would definitely hurt like a bitch, which, deserved).

‘Alright, last one!’ past-Bucky cheerfully announced. ‘Jump.’

Bucky gracefully leapt in the air, using his left hand to grab onto the unmoving ceiling fan blade (and knowing from his experience installing and reinforcing the blasted thing that it would hold his weight with no problem); the last Hydra goon had been standing in a darkened corner waiting for the perfect moment to strike and had stupidly decided to follow his brethren's tactics and attack the former-assassin when his back was turned.

The lithe man intended to sweep Bucky’s legs out from under him (or Bucky assumed that was the desired goal), but instead only managed to twist his legs in a full circle as if he was going to start breakdancing. Bucky watched amusedly from above as the man’s eyes darted around the room, confused by the Winter Soldier’s disappearing act (Bucky resisted the urge to drop straight down onto the man, knife first, reminding himself once again that he didn’t kill people anymore).

‘You’re so boring,’ Winter declared with a put-out sigh. ‘What’s a little murder between mortal enemies?’

Testing out the Widow’s device, he jerked his right wrist forward, internally wincing as the taser disk landed on the man’s face, instantly knocking him out (Bucky did drop back down to the floor after that, trading his blade for his gun and shooting out both kneecaps and putting a bullet through one hand, because he was both efficient and fair… at least that’s what he told himself to explain the dark satisfaction he got from eliminating the targets).

‘Well! That spiced things up a bit. We should get more of those,’ Winter excitedly chattered, nodding towards the Widow’s bracelet. ‘Do you think we can get some on the Internet?’

‘You need some nicer hobbies,’ past-Bucky muttered.

The red-haired man glanced nervously at Rumlow, shifting anxiously on his feet but keeping his gun trained on the teen. Bucky raised his gun, prepared to shoot the man before he could pull his own trigger, leaving Rumlow as his last threat.

“Let’s not be hasty now, Soldier,” Rumlow chastised, raising his arms up. His hands were outfitted with some metal contraption Bucky assumed was a weapon, since he had one pointed at Caleb and one trained in the direction of Wanda. “I’m glad you’re here on your own free will, though it would have been polite to respond to my nephew’s message instead of just randomly showing up. But you should lower your gun unless you want the walls decorated with your friends' brains.”

‘Are those f*cking cannons?’ past-Bucky gasped. ‘On his hands?!’

‘f*cking wannabe,’ Winter hissed, flexing his metal arm. ‘We should blow his brains out just for that comment.’

“That was an impressive showing,” Rumlow remarked when Bucky remained silent (though he lowered his gun, unwilling to put Wanda and Caleb’s life at risk); Rumlow sounded genuinely impressed which had Bucky tensing in fear of what that admiration for his skills would mean for him in the long run - he would not be put under Hydra’s control again, no f*cking way.

Now that he had time to focus, Bucky noticed the extensive scarring on Rumlow’s face, making him almost unrecognizable from his former handsome and co*cky self. Bucky barely remembered him from the Winter Soldier’s most recent time in America (and Winter blessedly wasn’t keen on showing memories like past-Bucky was, likely since 99% of them were terrible and traumatic), but Caleb had told enough stories over their time together for him to have a clear picture of who Brock Rumlow was as a person.

Rumlow grinned sinisterly. “But, then again, I’d expect nothing less from Hydra’s number one Asset.”

“What do you want, Rumlow?” Bucky tersely questioned, his eyes scanning the room, looking for unexpected traps or any signs of the venom substance they used on Steve.

“Oh, good, you do know me.” Rumlow lowered the arm pointed at Caleb. “I just want you to know before we begin, Soldier, none of this is personal. Your little friend will be fine, but I needed her out of the way for this.” Caleb made a distressed noise, causing Rumlow to roll his eyes, but the man continued on. “I hope you don’t mind, but I want the world to witness this interaction so they know exactly who to blame for their upcoming suffering.”

Rumlow nudged Caleb with one of the contraptions, causing the younger man to flinch in response.

“I’m sorry,” Caleb mouthed to Bucky.

The younger man typed a few things into his computer; Bucky watched, begrudgingly impressed, as the computer monitor quadrupled in size in the blink of an eye, and the previously blank screen changed to show a chaotic scene of Times Square from a few stories above street level.

People were sprinting in all directions as a huge bird-like monster flew overhead, many appearing to have abandoned their vehicles likely because the streets were too crowded with terrified pedestrians and pieces of destroyed infrastructure littering the road.

To Bucky, the beast looked like a child took a pterodactyl, colored it green, and then added the tail of an albino peaco*ck to it, giving it a terrifying yet majestic appearance. He stared in awe as the creature periodically swooped down to pick up a car or sign with its taloned feet before flying off again, only to then drop it back down to the street below as people scrambled to avoid the falling debris.

It was then that Bucky saw a hoard of smaller beasts running around on the street; there appeared to be about two dozen or so felines (past-Bucky helpfully said they looked like saber tooth tigers) chasing pedestrians and jumping on top of cars, except they were the size of a large house cat so they weren’t doing any lethal damage. There were also a handful of miniature fuzzy elephants running around (wooly mammoths, past-Bucky angrily corrected) which were the size of a goat and seemed to be more focused on raiding various stores rather than terrorizing humans. Bucky watched as a small group crashed into the glass of a storefront, excitedly rushed inside, and soon came out with an array of different articles of clothing covering their body and tusks.

‘I think it’s like those dinosaur things the Team has been dealing with in Florida. We need to handle this situation carefully since it looks like that big one can do a lot of damage in a short time,’ past-Bucky cautioned.

“Land it,” Rumlow directed into a walkie-talkie attached to his vest; moments later, the giant monster on the screen dive bombed directly down, creating a small crater in the pavement when it landed on the street. The bird pulled its expansive wings around itself, shielding the rest of its body from any attack. All of the smaller creatures stopped what they were doing to circle the larger bird, acting as a protective barrier or deterrence to prevent anyone from getting too close.

“I made some new friends after Captain America dropped a f*cking building on me,” Rumlow boasted, his tone prideful but his face was dark with poorly concealed rage. “Florida’s truly as wild a place as people always say it is; it’s actually where I got the materials to make these handy little gauntlets.” A blade jutted out from one of the devices on Rumlow’s hand, and Caleb jerked away before it could pierce his shoulder. “Oops, sorry kid.” He retracted the blade back. “It’s also where I met this group of scientists who just so happened to be ex-Stark Industries employees that loathe Tony Stark down to their very bones. And when I told them about how much I hate your little buddy Steve Rogers, we came to a mutual agreement - I’ll help them fund their pet projects, and they'll let me use their creations as I see fit.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, trying to piece together the missing parts. “So… you aren’t with Hydra? Or the nurse that tried to poison Steve?”

Rumlow snorted and shook his head. “Oh no, this isn’t about Hydra at all, Soldier, though Cap’s new nurse didn’t know that; sometimes you gotta tell a few lies to get people to do what you need them to do, you know?” He shrugged. “It’s the way of the world.”

Bucky tilted his head in confusion, allowing a small frown to form on his lips, needing the full story before he could plot his next move. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this, then.”

Rumlow pointed one of the gauntlets at him, and Bucky tensed, waiting for an attack. “There’s not much to understand here, man; this is all simply a personal mission for me after Rogers ruined everything by not being able to follow one god damned f*cking order.” Rumlow paused and eyed Bucky judgmentally. “You still look confused... f*ck, fine, I’ll spell it out for you since I feel a tad bit bad about your part in this. I went to Florida after Rogers left me to die by knocking that building on me in DC, and after I met my new friends, I decided to kill Cap the old fashioned way with experimental poison. You know what I’m talking about, in the tails of those abominations?” Bucky clenched his jaw, but nodded. “First time, he managed to avoid the tail. Second time, he got hit several times with the poison and still didn’t die, and then my nurse friend apparently failed somehow. So, I decided to change tactics and sought out my darling nephew here in hopes of gaining access to the Winter Soldier to launch an attack closer to home, one that would truly make Steve Rogers suffer the way he made me suffer. Caleb, show him.”

Caleb pushed a few more buttons, and the camera shifted to one on the street level… and that’s when Bucky noticed a group of familiar people huddled together on the sidewalk about a dozen or so yards away from the motionless bird creature.

‘I can only see Hulk, Thor, Stark, and Clint,’ past-Bucky muttered, squinting at the screen. ‘No Steve or Natasha.’

“Cue the drones,” Rumlow ordered into the walkie-talkie.

The creature’s tail twitched for a few seconds before suddenly fanning its feathers out, taking up nearly half the street with its width and rising as high as the fourth floor of the buildings next to it. Several drones took off from buildings across the street, two flying away from the monster and the other moving closer to the huddled group.

Rumlow nudged Caleb again, and the younger man pressed a button on his keyboard causing a green light to begin blinking on the same wall Caleb’s computers were on.

‘A camera,’ past-Bucky grunted. ‘How pretentious of him to turn this into a show… I don’t know why I thought he was lying earlier, but that was foolish of me it seems.’

‘Be the star, Barnes,’ Winter smirked, an uncharacteristic tint of mischievousness lacing his words. ‘The camera angle is installed in such a way that only puts you on the screen… it shouldn’t show Caleb, Wanda, or Rumlow unless he moves closer.’

Bucky’s eyes shifted away from the camera and back to the live stream; Clint drew an arrow to shoot the drone in front of the Avengers down but stopped when his attention was stolen by something offscreen.

‘The drones are projecting this video stream onto the bird’s wings for the people in Times Square to watch, and I'd imagine there are speakers somewhere as well,’ Winter explained, clearly impressed by the set-up. ‘And the other drone is a camera that’s recording the Avengers for us to watch and interact with… a lot of effort, and for what purpose?’

The image resolution became clearer and to his astonishment, Winter was correct - he saw Rumlow and himself projected onto the all white wings, the other man having stepped closer once the image was fully displayed on the wings.

Bucky tried to keep his face expressionless, but he couldn’t prevent his cheeks from blushing in embarrassment as he watched people in the streets stop and point at him; it was one thing to abstractly know this was being broadcasted, but to be forced to watch people react to it in real time was a next-level type of torture.

After Natasha released Hydra’s files onto the internet, Bucky had no doubt many of these people knew exactly who he was and what he’d done, especially taking into account Pepper and Maria’s difficult time trying to get him reinstated as ‘alive.’ Bucky knew their struggles were due to people being unwilling to forgive him for the atrocities he committed, something he could honestly say he understood.

And if the people in Times Square didn’t know who he was before this moment, well, they likely were learning now from someone standing next to them… Bucky watched stoically as people whispered behind their hands to those around them, their expressions a mixture of fear, horror, and anger.

‘At least there’s no sound,’ he bitterly said to the others. ‘Or if there is, Caleb has it turned off.’

‘I’ll monitor the screen, you focus on Rumlow,’ past-Bucky offered much to Bucky’s relief.

Rumlow eyed him up and down, an action that almost made Bucky want to cross his arms over his chest to shield as much of himself as he could from Rumlow’s slimy gaze. “You know, before we start, I gotta admit, Soldier, I’m digging the new punk rock look, especially the lip ring. I bet it’s a real hit with the ladies.”

Past-Bucky pretended to vomit. ‘What a creep, can we just shoot him and be done with it?’

‘Be the star,’ Winter serenely repeated. His tone turned more serious with his next directive. ‘Drag this on until we find an opening, but we need to be the victim in the Court of Public Opinion so don’t get too reckless.’

Bucky stood up straighter, rolling his shoulders back and staring directly at the camera as he spoke. “Maybe, but I’d rather it be a hit with the men, if you catch my drift.”

‘Future, oh my god, um, future-self,’ past-Bucky stammered, wringing his hands together. ‘I think there’s sound on the other end, because people are definitely reacting.’

‘You are definitely the star now,’ Winter chuckled, seeming unbothered by the whole thing. ‘I will enjoy gouging his eyes out one by one after this ridiculous circus. Off camera, though, of course.’

Caleb’s mouth dropped open in surprise and even Rumlow co*cked an eyebrow at his unexpected response. “When I said I was broadcasting this live to the world, I was being serious, you know that right? They can hear what we’re saying, since otherwise this whole show would be pointless.”

Bucky shrugged casually in response; he never doubted Rumlow on that front, but his heart rate spiked at the realization that yes, he did just come out to god knows how many millions of people, including most of the people he actually knew; thank goodness Steve was at home, hopefully still sleeping, otherwise that would be a nightmare. He'd find out at some point, sure, but Bucky could hopefully put that off for as long as possible.

‘You did good,’ past-Bucky praised after exchanging a fair amount of wordless looks with an unconcerned Winter.

His two former-selves took a protective step closer to him.

“Wait, no, let me guess,” Rumlow suddenly smirked. “Captain America is your boyfriend.”

‘sh*t, what do I say to that?’ Bucky shrieked; he didn’t want to say he was single in case Steve was watching at home and got offended since they were kind of doing non-platonic stuff with each other (even though, in Bucky's mind, the friend aspect of it all was clearly discussed), but he also didn’t want to label their ‘evolving’ relationship with a word they didn’t mutually agree upon and then go and share that with the general public.

Bucky carefully recited past-Bucky’s response. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Yet.”

Rumlow pursed his lips. “You seem unsure, so let’s ask him for ourselves, shall we? He’s in a bit of a situation right now, but I’m sure he’ll make time for his Bucky… especially since it’ll be his last chance to say goodbye.”

‘I swear to god, if Steve is actually out of bed, I will flip a f*cking sh*t,’ Winter growled menacingly on his left.

‘Natasha wouldn’t let that happen,’ past-Bucky murmured, though they could hear the skepticism in his tone.

“Uh, hate to rain on your parade,” Bucky scoffed, deciding he would put his faith in all those motivational YouTube videos he watched over his many sleepless nights and ‘speak it into existence’ - if he said and believed Steve was still at home, then it would be true. “He’s at home, on bed rest.”

“Johnson?” Rumlow irritably spoke into the walkie-talkie. “You heard the Soldier, is that true?”

Bucky held his breath in anticipation, nearly flinching at the loud crackling of the static on the walkie-talkie as Rumlow’s accomplice attempted to respond.

“No,” a deep voice finally answered. “We all saw him fighting, and Ramsey and Bolton each say they saw him get hit at different times.”

‘Unbelievable,’ Winter hissed, the plates in his arm shifting once more. ‘I told you those inspirational videos were full of sh*t. Should have spent that time cleaning your weapons instead.’

Bucky slightly turned his head to see past-Bucky shrugging in response. “Disappointed, but not surprised. Come on, guys, it’s Steve . I do not understand how you could be shocked.’

Bucky faced the camera, his eyes narrowed into slits. “Well, since Steve is responsible and knows his Teammates can handle this situation without him, I am sure he went home, especially since I know for a fact he wasn’t medically cleared for missions after his previous injury.”

A new voice suddenly spoke, and Bucky turned his gaze to see Thor waving to him on Caleb’s computer monitor.

“Hello! Barnes, can you hear me?” Thor cheerfully shouted at the drone. “Where are you? Do you need some assistance? We’re a bit busy with these bizarre beings at the moment, but I can fly over after this and help out. And then maybe we can get a coffee? I know a good place if you don’t mind the romantic atmosphere.”

“Jesus, Thor, really?” Clint huffed, but his eyes sparkled with amusem*nt. “Can’t you save the flirting for later?”

“Hulk Smash?” Hulk interrupted, his eyes trained solely on the huge green bird occupying the street.

“Not yet, buddy,” Stark responded, dressed in his full Iron Man outfit with the helmet lowered. He gently patted one of Hulk’s enormous hands. “But soon, I promise. Just don’t move, okay?”

“Unfortunately, the Soldier will no longer be available for any of your inane activities,” Rumlow cut in, leering at Bucky. “And you can all thank Captain America for the reign of terror the world is about to endure.”

Rumlow waved a terrifyingly familiar red book at the camera, the same book that haunted his nightmares ever since Steve ripped the first holes in his programming.

‘You’re free, you’re free, you’re free,’ he chanted to himself, feeling sweat gathering at his brow already. ‘You’re free.’

‘We’re free,’ Winter firmly corrected. ‘All of us.’

'Where the f*ck did he get that book, though?!' past-Bucky shouted. 'We're burning it after this, I swear to god.'

“Oh, is that Bucky Bear’s diary?” Stark grinned, his tone light but his eyes sharp. “Please, share some passages for the class, we are all dying to know what goes on in that cute little head of his. I just know he’s got so many secrets hidden under that magnificent galactic hairdo of his.”

“Do you think he has written about me?” Thor asked, turning to Stark. “Or any of us?”

“No!" Rumlow growled, likely annoyed at his lack of star power in his own production. “They’re the trigger words for the Winter Soldier, who will be mine to control. And guess who he’s going to kill first?”

“You?” Clint asked hopefully.

“Your precious CAPTAIN AMERICA!” Rumlow exploded, spit flying from his mouth. “But his death alone will not be enough, no - the world will pay for his crimes with their blood. He is the reason for the murder spree the Soldier will soon embark on, the reason your friends and family members will be slain in cold blood as they sleep, the reason these monsters will terrorize your streets. Steve Rogers is the reason why you will suffer, and I demand he show himself NOW before his little friend Bucky takes his rightful place by my side as the weapon he was always meant to be - The Winter Soldier.”

‘Wow,’ past-Bucky gaped. ‘This guy is one hell of an idiot, but he’s got a great villain speech.’

‘This is perfect,’ Winter snickered, and Bucky barely caught himself in time from turning to give his former self a strange look. ‘Don’t you see?’

‘Not really…’ Bucky trailed off, and past-Bucky echoed his confusion.

Winter rolled his eyes, muttering something about fools with no sense of imagination. ‘He says the trigger words. We act triggered. He thinks we are triggered. He relaxes because we are no longer a threat. We become a threat, non-lethally taking out the blood-haired goon and then Rumlow. We remind the world of who we are, what we can do, but that we choose to be good. We get reinstated as alive, which you for some reason care about... so we can be the first gay Super Soldier? Not sure where you’re going with that concept, but whatever. The end.’

‘You’re such a genius,’ past-Bucky praised, shooting Winter his signature roguish grin that had the Soldier stuttering his thanks, his cheeks a rosy pink. ‘I think you mean red-haired goon, though?’

‘I said what I said,’ Winter shrugged. ‘Maybe I’m just predicting the future… who knows?’

‘Problem,’ Bucky swallowed. ‘I don’t think I can act convincingly; I’ve tried to block most of those memories as much as I can.’

‘You really are dumb.’ Winter sighed dejectedly. ‘I can handle it - do you trust me?’

‘Yes,’ Bucky admitted without hesitation. ‘We have the same mission.’

‘We do,’ Winter eventually agreed, somehow taken aback by Bucky’s easy admission.

“Well,” Stark drawled after the awkward silence at the end of Rumlow’s speech. “That’s pretty dark. Have you tried therapy? I know a guy, he’s great, would totally recommend if you’re interested.”

“Rumlow,” a voice called that had all three parts of himself hissing in frustration.

Stark rolled his eyes but stepped away from the Hulk, making space for a battered Captain America to stumble out from behind the group, his arm wrapped securely around Black Widow’s shoulders, the woman appearing to be supporting most of his weight. Now that the cat was out of the bag, so to speak, Thor took Natasha’s place, the Widow flashing a strained smile at the camera, hopefully knowing Bucky was extremely pissed at her for allowing Steve to be there.

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose, glaring at the camera. “Steve. What the goddamn f*ck? You are NOT supposed to be here to begin with, and how are you the only one hurt?”

Steve shrugged, running his free hand through his hair to smooth it down and, of course, making it even messier than before. “It’s just a scratch, one of the fuzzy elephants got me with a tusk in the thigh… and then a few scratches from the tiger cats, probably because I smell like cat? Or they were programmed to come for me, not sure... Nat, Clint, and I arrived first when there were a lot more of the little ones running around, and Clint took a good amount of them out with sedative arrows. But I’m fine, it’s no big deal! Are you okay, Buck?”

Steve grinned charmingly (though Bucky could tell it was forced), and he swore he heard a few people off camera swoon.

‘I want to protect him no matter the cost but also beat him into next week…what is this strange, contradictory feeling?’ Winter questioned, looking baffled.

Past-Bucky cackled, his features brightening with mirth. ‘Oh, buddy, welcome to the club. I think it’s the Steve Rogers Effect. Get used to it because it never goes away.’

Bucky opened his mouth to point out that, no, it wasn’t just a scratch seeing as how Steve couldn’t even put weight on his left leg, but was interrupted by a squeal coming from behind the group.

“Oh my god, Ashley, look! It’s Sergeant Hottie from our high school history books! I told you he was still alive, can’t believe you think I’d lie about that.”

Steve twisted around in confusion, allowing the camera to capture a trio of girls standing in front of the store they must have just exited from. The girls, who seemed to be slightly older than Wanda and Caleb, were whispering excitedly to each other but stopped abruptly when they noticed the Avengers all gawking at them.

“Why are you all looking at me like that?” the petite blonde girl asked nervously. “It’s true, everyone says it. That’s Cap’s best friend Sergeant Barnes, right? They put all these World War II photos in our history books, and there were a bunch with Captain America next to his best friend… and he always looked handsome and mischievous, so everyone called him Sergeant Hottie or Sergeant Thottie. I swear I’m not making this up, I’m sure it’s all over Twitter right now.”

“Oh my god, that’s gold,” Stark gleefully remarked. “Thank you random citizen, I will cherish this memory forever.”

“What’s a ‘Thottie’?” Thor asked Clint, the archer shrugging in response.

‘My legacy is Captain America’s hot best friend?’ past-Bucky whispered viciously, before pausing to reconsider. ‘You know… I’m good with that, actually.’

‘Wanda’s awake, I heard her wheeze when that girl said Sergeant Thottie,’ Winter reported amusedly.

“No, wait,” the girl’s friend said, tugging on her sleeve. “That’s definitely the Winter Soldier, minus the sexy black eye paint he had in all those pictures the Widow dropped onto the internet last year.”

‘Finally, vindication!’ Winter cried. ‘You’re all a bunch of haters, I’m going to go and befriend this girl since she has taste and good sense.’

“You're both wrong,” a familiar girl disagreed; Bucky smiled as the cashier from the mall all those weeks ago spoke up, her hair now dyed a bright bubblegum pink. “That’s James - he’s from Sokovia and he came into the store with his siblings.” She smiled warmly at the camera. “You look great man, really digging the piercing on you!”

“Dude, whoever he is, Captain America better cuff him before someone else does,” the blonde preached. “He is way too fine to be single.”

“Why would I cuff him?” Steve questioned, co*cking his head to the side and frowning down at the girls. “He’s not a criminal.”

“Yikes,” the blonde uncomfortably laughed. “Never mind.”

“Actually, here’s a fun fact - all three of you are correct,” Natasha smirked.

“ENOUGH!” Rumlow roared, reaching over Caleb to press a button on the keyboard so the camera focused on him, removing Bucky from the frame. “Caleb, say the words so the world can see who they’re really dealing with. And if any of you Avengers leave the screen in a foolish attempt to save your pet assassin, I’ll have my guys release the full onslaught of their creations on the city. And believe me, you won’t like that result.”

‘Guess he’s bitter he isn’t the star,’ past-Bucky giggled. ‘Get ready for showtime.’

Caleb’s face looked torn, looking between the book, his uncle, and Bucky himself.

“Uncle Brock, please,” he trembled, wrapping his arms around himself. “Please, don’t do this, he’s already suffered so much because of Hydra, and none of this is his fault. He didn’t volunteer to become the Winter Soldier, and it’s wrong to force him to fight for your cause against his will.”

“I don’t care if it’s wrong,” Rumlow scoffed, shooting Caleb a judgmental glare. “Barnes has been the Winter Soldier for decades, much longer than he’s been ‘Bucky Barnes’. His brainwashing is a part of him, whether he likes it or not. Think of it like this kid - Barnes was tortured for twenty-something years before the Winter Soldier program was deemed successful, so we’re doing him a favor by utilizing this part of him, otherwise all that suffering was for nothing. Besides, he’s more useful to the world this way, you’ll see.”

“That’s not true!” Caleb hissed.

‘Future-self, please let me shoot him,’ past-Bucky pleaded. ‘I have never hated someone so much before in my life.’

‘Seconded,’ Winter growled.

‘I am leaning towards that,’ Bucky admitted truthfully, Rumlow’s words unsettling him - what if he was right, and Bucky was useless to Steve the way he was currently?

“Do it,” Rumlow demanded, ignoring Caleb’s pleas. “Or I’ll have your girlfriend shot right now.”

“I have a boyfriend,” Caleb said defiantly, jutting his chin out as he met Rumlow’s gaze head on.

“It’s okay, Caleb,” Bucky interjected, sensing Caleb was about to pull a Steve and get himself into a fight he couldn’t win. “I understand, and I’m not upset with you. Your lives are more important than mine… just please take care of my babies after all this if you don’t mind?”

Bucky kept his focus on Caleb, giving him a small nod to show he was serious and ignoring the increased chattering coming from the screen.

With wet eyes, Caleb read the trigger words, his pronunciation perfect as if he’d been forced repeatedly to practice.

‘You’re up Winter,’ past-Bucky directed nervously.

‘Let’s get it,’ Bucky said, repeating a phrase he’d heard from Peter and hoping they couldn’t pick up on his trepidation.

‘Take a deep breath, and surrender, Barnes,’ Winter commanded solemnly. ‘I’ll take care of this.’

‘We don’t kill anymore,’ Bucky hurriedly reminded him as Caleb reached the seventh word.

‘Regrettable, but understood,’ Winter huffed, placing his hand on Bucky’s metal shoulder.

Chapter 13: Winter Steals The Show

Chapter Text

Heart in his throat, Steve watched the projection in horror as Bucky’s supposed friend read off the Winter Soldier trigger words.

Logically, he knew Bucky was faking… right? Wanda took care of it. The words didn’t work anymore, they tested it rigorously.

But maybe you had to mean them? And Natasha didn’t when she tested it, because she didn’t want to hurt Steve.

But no, that doesn’t make sense. Wanda tried them, too, and they didn’t work. And so did Maria.

But… they wouldn’t want to hurt Steve or Bucky either.

So maybe the words truly did still work when someone really wanted to control the Winter Soldier…?

f*ck. No, f*ck, he couldn’t lose Bucky again. His friend had survived so much already and to lose all that simply because some asshole had a bone to pick with Steve? No, absolutely not. Steve would burn the entire world to a crisp if it meant getting Bucky back.

He would do anything.

After each word was read, Steve felt like he was watching his Bucky die in front of his very eyes. The warmth Bucky always radiated became cold and calculating, any hint of his usual liveliness was wiped out as the Winter Soldier was reborn, as stoic and rigid as ever.

Natasha translated the Russian words for him after the trigger words were finished.

“Soldier?” Caleb cautiously asked.

“Ready to comply,” the Winter Soldier answered, his voice devoid of emotion as he stared straight ahead, waiting for orders.

“Well, this is a bit of an unexpected hiccup,” Tony casually commented. “But that lovely fellow didn’t have to go up against the full might of the Avengers last time, so we’ll get him sorted in no time, Cap, you wait.”

Rumlow smirked deviously, tilting his head to the side like he was listening for something the others couldn’t hear.

“Ah, right on time,” Rumlow muttered. He waved a phone in front of the camera, Caleb blanching upon recognizing the device.

“No, no, no, Uncle Brock, WHAT DID YOU DO?!’ he screamed, trying to snatch the device from the man.

“It’s rude to ghost your boyfriend, nephew, I raised you better than that,” Rumlow taunted; Natasha gasped when she realized what that meant, the Avengers (sans Steve) turning towards her in shock and confusion - the Widow never reacted emotionally. “Come on, kid, I knew you were gay long before you did, give me some credit here.”

Steve and Natasha shared a panicked look; Caleb’s boyfriend was Peter, which likely meant Wanda was the ‘girlfriend’ Rumlow spoke of. His eyes darted to Tony, who didn’t seem to know the truth if his lack of reaction was anything to go by.

Steve’s enhanced hearing picked up the sound of a door opening, but no one needed the serum to hear the following interaction.

“You know, Caleb, I thought you were really nice at first, but the way you’ve been treating me is rude as f*ck, and I don’t like it,” Peter vehemently declared from off camera. “Oh. Is that Bucky? WHAT DID YOU DO TO WANDA? WHAT THE f*ck IS GOING ON CALEB?!”

“Is that Peter?” Tony hissed, grabbing harshly onto Steve’s bicep. “What the f*ck is going on? Who is this Caleb kid? Why is Wanda there? Since when did Peter have a boyfriend? DID YOU TWO KNOW ABOUT THIS ALL ALONG?!”

“I’ll explain later,” Steve muttered, ripping his arm free, his eyes glued to the screen, to his Bucky… no, not his Bucky anymore, this was the Winter Soldier now.

“Let’s test the Soldier first, so they can see what we’re working with,” Rumlow suggested, tapping his chin in thought. “Ah, yes, Caleb, have him shoot your boyfriend.”

“What?!” Caleb cried, outraged. “You promised you wouldn’t hurt my friends, Uncle Brock, and he shouldn’t even be here!”

“I said friends, not boyfriend,” Rumlow shrugged nonchalantly. “Hopefully this teaches you a memorable lesson on the importance of semantics.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I am here,” Peter cried, still off camera. “Tell me what’s going on before I lose it, Caleb, so f*cking help me, I will beat all of you into next week.”

“Uncle Brock, please!” Caleb pleaded, ignoring Peter’s questions. “Don’t hurt him, please, hurt me instead if you must.”

“You are both so dramatic, you two seriously deserve each other,” Rumlow groaned, rolling his eyes. “But fine, have him shoot the kid in the foot. No, don’t whine, the kid will be fine… it’s either that, or I’ll shoot him in the head, your choice.”

Steve couldn’t help but find it strange that under his verbal defiance, Bucky’s friend was terrified of Rumlow, despite the fact his own physical size and strength looked like it could rival Steve’s… he figured there must be more to the story than he was currently seeing, but it was still a disturbing sight to witness (though he supposed growing up with an uncle like Rumlow would have been difficult).

Caleb muttered the command to the Winter Soldier, and Steve mentally crossed his fingers that nothing would happen.

But his prayers went unanswered as the assassin methodically pulled a gun out from god knows where and fired a single shot towards someone off camera.

Rumlow’s eyebrow raised as he watched the interaction, and Steve wondered if Peter revealed his enhancements.

“Ow, Bucky, what the hell man?” Peter groaned in pain, apparently either unable to dodge the shot or unwilling to reveal his powers yet.

“Who the hell is Bucky?” the Winter Soldier replied, his voice low and gravelly, and his words shattered Steve’s heart into pieces.

“Well, f*ck,” Natasha hissed under her breath, looking stricken.

“Rumlow, I swear to f*cking god, I am going to kick your ass so hard -” Tony vented, his eyes bulging.

“Why do you care about my nephew’s boyfriend so much?” Rumlow inquired, his gaze piercing as he realized he must be missing pieces to the story.

Tony was saved from answering when Rumlow started speaking again.

“Whatever, it doesn’t even matter. Caleb, direct him to kill Captain America.”

Caleb opened his mouth, but Steve stepped forward, looking directly into the drone camera as he spoke. “You may have the upper hand now, Rumlow, but I’ve already knocked Bucky’s conditioning loose once, and I’ll do it again.”

Rumlow opened and closed his mouth a few times, before tossing his head back and laughing darkly, the sound sending chills through Steve. “You’re right, Captain, how silly of me. Caleb, direct the Soldier to shoot himself in the head. As much as I’d love to see the Asset create a river of blood through the streets of New York, I think this will be much more satisfying.”

Steve’s heart stopped beating, and he felt like he was going to faint. “No, Rumlow, what the f*ck! Leave Bucky out of this, this is between you and me… he didn’t do anything, and he’s already suffered so f*cking much because of Hydra.”

“Do it, Caleb,” Rumlow commanded, a blade jutting out from his gauntlet. He held the metal against the side of his nephew’s neck.

Caleb repeated the instructions, and the Winter Soldier obediently held the gun to his temple.

f*ck, f*ck, f*ck, you just had to say something Rogers, didn’t you?

But then, for the first time ever, the fully brainwashed Winter Soldier displayed some form of real, human emotion - fear.

“Did… did the Asset fail a mission?” he stammered, his wide eyes staring helplessly at Caleb; the sad part was, Steve wasn’t sure if he was afraid of dying, upset because he supposedly failed a mission, or scared because he was speaking out of turn and expected punishment.

“Do something!” the pink-haired girl demanded, yanking on Steve’s arm. All around him, the shocked pedestrians were staring unbelievingly at the projection screen, many with tears pouring down their faces, some so distraught that they had to sit down. “This isn’t right!!”

“I don’t know what to do,” Steve fretfully admitted. “I don’t know where they are, I can’t leave here without dooming everyone.”

“You’re right, Captain,” Rumlow gleefully laughed, retracting his blade. “Your ‘friend’ is paying for your crimes, and you can’t do a damned thing to save him. I know you’re used to rescuing damsels in distress, but sorry buddy, that ends today.”

Caleb glanced up fearfully at Rumlow who glared heatedly back at him, making a slashing motion against his throat and turning to look offscreen - the message was clear; give the command, or your boyfriend pays with his life.

Rumlow stepped closer to the Asset, the deranged man almost shaking with anticipation. He kept his eyes trained on the screen, drinking in every reaction Steve couldn’t stop himself from making.

“Yes, you failed your mission,” Caleb sniffed, tears falling from his eyes. “I’m sorry, Soldier.”

“The Asset has one purpose - to complete assigned missions. If it cannot complete missions, then it must be terminated, for it has no use,” the Winter Soldier gravely recited. He nodded as if accepting his fate. “It is known.”

Natasha squeezed his hand in a show of comfort and kept their fingers entwined while they watched, heartbroken, as the Winter Soldier pulled the trigger.

Winter internally rolled his eyes, annoyed by how dumb Caleb’s uncle was turning out to be - it was basic fight training 101 that you don’t take your eyes off your enemy, and yet here was this supposedly well-trained elite fighter staring down Steve on the screen and turning his back on the real threat in the room - him.

As Caleb repeated the trigger words and Barnes took a backseat in their head for the first time, Winter began cataloging the situation more efficiently, expertly tuning out the two voices in his head with his single-minded focus on the mission.

The first thing he noticed was a red mist on the floor near the futon and realized Wanda was not only awake but able to fight (at least in her own way), her fingers pressed against the blood-haired man’s calf. He could see her struggling to maintain control, her face scrunched in pain since her body couldn’t heal from the electric currents as quickly as an Enhanced could. The man’s eyes were unfocused, likely reliving some terrible memory she pulled up for him; he was still a threat to the mission.

The three other goons from earlier were still down, apparently fainting either from the pain or the blood loss, he couldn’t tell; they were not a threat.

Peter was still lying collapsed on the staircase, holding his injured foot close to his body. When Winter shot the boy (and it had taken a lot of mental effort to raise his gun, his only consolation being the knowledge that he had the skills to avoid truly hurting the Spider Child), the teen had clearly been confused by the bullet hole in his shoe and the glaring lack of pain. Winter mentally thanked Barnes for keeping their hair long because it gave him the ability to then shoot Peter a quick wink, and after a brief moment of uncertainty, the Spider Child embraced his inner dramatics in order to keep their ruse up (the boy being smart enough to keep his foot hidden from view, since the lack of blood would be a glaring red flag to anyone with half a brain).

And Rumlow? Despite his stupidity and lunacy, he was the biggest threat of the group but nothing Winter couldn’t handle; he was formidable and efficient, a true professional of his craft, after all.

Winter pulled the trigger of the gun held to his head, but not before swinging his arm out to the right and shooting the mind-controlled man directly in the hand, forcing him to drop his gun and relieving Wanda from the burden of keeping him under. He then shot a taser disk at the lackey for good measure, not sparing a moment to rejoice in his success as the man crumbled to the ground with a piercing scream - he had more work to do.

“I am no longer the Winter Soldier,” he firmly decreed, sparing a moment to look directly into the camera (Winter was lying just a bit, but this would help Barnes in the long run, so he swallowed his pride to make the poignant statement). “I am James ‘Bucky’ Barnes, and I am nobody's damsel.”

Rumlow twisted around in confusion when Winter first started speaking, but in the blink of an eye, Winter had his gun trained on Rumlow, firing multiple rounds into his chest.

To his surprise, Rumlow jerked as the bullets entered his body but didn’t fall or cry out in pain.

“I don’t work like that no more,” Rumlow growled menacingly, taking a step forward in preparation to strike.

Low to non-existent pain tolerance? Interesting and unexpected, but still something Winter could handle.

“Yeah? As you can see, neither do I.” Winter pulled his left arm back and slammed his metal fist into the man’s face, repeatedly.

Rumlow tried to slice him with one of the blades from his gauntlets, and Winter smoothly dodged it, smacking Rumlow in the face again with his metal elbow. It took longer than expected, but after a few more hits, he had Rumlow unconscious at his feet.

With the battle over, he mentally congratulated himself for a job well done and took a moment to bask in the roaring cheers from the people in Times Square. Winter faced the camera and bowed deeply with a flourish reminiscent of their original-self, unable to hold back the cheeky smile forming on his lips.

Mission success.

Bucky stared in awe at the unconscious form of Rumlow at his feet; since Caleb started reading the trigger words, and he allowed Winter to take control, it had seemed like he was watching a movie from far away, as if everything was happening to someone else instead of himself, and he’d have to swim up from the bottom of the ocean to take back control.

‘Good job, Winter,’ past-Bucky applauded, standing just behind Bucky’s right shoulder. ‘Efficient and savage, but non-lethal; you truly are the best there is at fighting.’

‘Oh, um, thanks, it was nothing, just another successful mission,’ Winter blushed, standing proudly just behind Bucky’s left shoulder. He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips until he noticed Bucky staring at him.

‘Thank you,’ Bucky said sincerely; he didn’t think he could act the part of the Winter Soldier without needing to dredge up painful memories, and Winter’s help made the entire situation easier. ‘I didn’t know you could do that.’

‘We both can, but you have to allow us,’ Winter shrugged dismissively. ‘It’s not worth the effort, usually.' Winter glanced over at past-Bucky who nodded encouragingly. 'But as you can see, you do not need to fear this part of yourself anymore. Even when I took over, you could have stopped me from doing something you didn't agree with... and I'm not brainwashed either, so no one else can control me. Except you. I am a part of you, as is past-Bucky. But there is also more to you than just us.'

'You're quite the complex person,' past-Bucky teased when Bucky didn't respond, finding himself too choked up by Winter's words acknowledging and then demolishing some of his deepest personal fears to form a coherent thought.

Suddenly, a gun shot rang out, startling Bucky back into reality.

His enhanced eyesight caught the path of a bullet careening towards Caleb; to his astonishment, though, the bullet hit his chest and fell uselessly to the ground, a white patch of webbing covering the part of Caleb’s shirt where the bullet would have struck.

“Not my boyfriend, you bitch!” Peter growled from the staircase, using his web to grab the gun from one of the guys Bucky shot in the kneecaps - he must have woken up at some point and switched his gun to the other hand; Bucky wasn’t sure if the man was aiming for his own back and missed, or just wanted to take out anyone he could.

Peter leapt to the bottom of the staircase, walking closer to Bucky to web the guy to the floor, making sure his arms and legs were firmly stuck to the ground - he then did the same to the other two unconscious men Bucky had first taken out. Wanda picked herself off of the floor and used her magic to remove the gun out of reach from the red-haired man near her, shoving it under the futon.

Bucky rushed to Wanda as Peter followed behind him, the girl touching her head carefully with a frown; Bucky noticed a huge bump swelling on the side of her head, and it took all of his limited self-control not to run over to Rumlow’s unconscious form and give him a few solid kicks to the ribs for hurting his friend (or put a bullet in his brain which would be justified at this point in his personal opinion).

Dropping gracelessly to his knees, he pulled both of them into a tight hug, needing a moment to gather his thoughts before he could begin his apologies.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, kissing each of them on the top of the head. “I’m sorry, please forgive me, I never meant for either of you to get hurt.”

“It’s not your fault,” Wanda firmly assured him, placing a hand on his cheek. “Rumlow caught me by surprise the second I made it down the stairs, tasering me once he realized I wasn’t you. I was foolish to come alone.”

“Um, and when you shot me, or well, I guess when Winter shot me, he actually missed me?” Peter mumbled uneasily. “Like, you just ruined my shoe, that’s all.”

‘I missed him on purpose!’ Winter shouted right behind Bucky. ‘Tell him that, or I will do it myself. I am an excellent shot, and his shoes have a ton of padding…it was so simple a child could do it! I thought he realized I did that on purpose, I do not understand. Oh my god. My reputation is crumbling in front of my very eyes, this is unacceptable, BARNES DO SOMETHING!’

Bucky repeated Winter’s words (the important ones, not the dramatic parts), Wanda laughing loudly at the explanation, while an embarrassed Peter tried to defend his shoe selection (“The padding is so they’re more comfortable, it’s just an extra benefit that they make me appear taller, I swear!”)

“Come here, Caleb,” Bucky gently called to the shocked man who was staring unfocused at the bullet on the ground by his feet. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Caleb slowly trudged over to their group, making a wide arc around his passed out uncle, but stopping a few feet away.

“I’m sorry,” he wept, wrapping his arms around himself while tears poured down his face. “I didn’t want to do any of this, but Uncle Brock said he’d kill my mom if I didn’t, so I stopped responding to you, Peter, in hopes that you wouldn’t end up getting involved. Or he wouldn’t drag you into this at least. But he was monitoring my phone so I couldn’t tell you what was going on either, and please, please believe me Winter, I never wanted to hurt anyone.”

“So it wasn’t because you stopped liking me?” Peter whispered, his doe eyes wide as he looked at Caleb hopefully. “Or because you were dating that red-haired dude… who I might have seen you with while patrolling the neighborhood the other day, not because I purposefully came by or anything…”

“Of course not!” Caleb vehemently denied, his arms dropping down to his side. He inched closer to Peter, taking one of the hero’s hands in his own. “Besides, he’s my cousin.” Peter visibly cringed, and Bucky had to bite his cheek to keep from cackling at his horrified expression. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Peter Parker, I promise I never meant to hurt you, and I will do anything I can to make it up to you…if you’re still interested, of course, not that I’d blame you if you weren’t -”

“Peter Parker?!” a voice shouted. “PETER! YOU ARE IN BIG TROUBLE YOUNG MAN! I CAN’T SEE YOU SINCE THE EVIL BIRD SCREEN FLEW OFF A SECOND AGO, BUT WE CAN STILL HEAR YOU, AND I WANT YOU TO KNOW, I AM VERY, VERY DISAPPOINTED IN YOUR BEHAVIOR!”

And that’s when Bucky remembered this was still being recorded.

And Peter (with Caleb’s help) just revealed himself to the world as Spider-Man with his web stunt to stop the bullet from striking Caleb, possibly making things even worse for himself by walking in front of the camera to web the guy to the floor (depending on when the bird flew off that is, but either way, his full name had been repeated twice already).

And Tony Stark was in Times Square, witnessing this moment in real time… and had no idea Peter or Wanda were involved until the scene with Winter.

‘At least we know Natasha can keep a secret?’ past-Bucky mumbled.

“PETER WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS? YOU SAID YOU WERE GOING TO YOUR AUNT’S HOUSE!” Stark continued his rant, holding the drone camera directly to his face. “AND YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND? SINCE WHEN? AND WHY DID NATASHA AND STEVE KNOW BUT NOT ME?”

Caleb walked back to his computer and pressed a few buttons; another drone flew out from god knows where and projected their camera onto a brick wall close to the Avengers. This time, though, the image size was smaller, similar to one of Stark’s ridiculously large television screens rather than the enormous multi-story screen projected onto the bird’s feathers. Bucky could see many pedestrians still lingering on the streets and watching the proceedings in various emotional states behind the Avengers, and the visual reminder that this was all being televised had his anxiety levels spiking.

‘It’s almost over,’ past-Bucky murmured, giving him a supportive smile. ‘We got this, just hang in there.’

Peter waited for Caleb to return to his side before moving back into view of the camera, their hands once again clasped tightly together while Caleb whispered fervent apologies for saying his full name.

Peter’s face paled as he processed Stark’s words, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark? I can explain, I promise!”

“You will be sorry, mister! You are so grounded, once I figure out what being grounded actually entails…” Stark glared into the camera; behind him, the saber tooth cats and wooly mammoths were running freely again, and Bucky assumed by the loud squawking in the background that the bird had decided to wreak havoc again instead of flying away to freedom. “May, Pepper, and I raised you better than that. Lying and sneaking around? That’s not like you at all, Peter, and I don’t like it one bit. And I expect to meet this mysterious boyfriend of yours, properly, sometime very soon.”

“Hi, Mr. Stark,” Caleb waved abashedly.

“Oh dear, he’s just like James,” Wanda giggled, coming into the frame. “It’s not Peter or Caleb’s fault, Tony, it’s just a series of unfortunate events.”

“Can I see Bucky, please?” Steve whined in the background.

“Gotta wait your turn, Cap,” Clint answered, standing just behind Stark and blocking Steve from view.

“Uh huh. When this is over, we will be talking about how things should have been handled as well as your punishments, that is for sure,” Stark scowled at the trio.

“Ah, what a pity, Tony Stark. When this is over, you won’t have a son left, I’m afraid,” Rumlow taunted, slowly sitting up; and that’s when Bucky heard it - the slow, rhythmic beeping of a bomb.

“HE’S GOT A VEST!” Bucky yelled, pulling the three kids behind him and shielding them with his body.

Wanda wrenched herself away just as the vest exploded.

When the expected pain didn’t come, Bucky glanced up to see Wanda containing the fiery blast in a sphere of her red magic.

“What do I do with it?” she cried, struggling to maintain control, beads of sweat dripping down her forehead.

“Throw it towards the stairs on my signal,” Peter directed, peeking his head out from behind Bucky. “I’ll web a protective wall for us.”

“No one lives next to us,” Caleb hurriedly explained when Wanda hesitated to agree.

She nodded in understanding, and Peter quickly built a protective cage of webbing around the four of them (and Caleb’s cousin) in the far corner of the room… the others would be in the way of the blast, but there wasn’t much that could be done at this point.

“Now!” Peter shouted when he finished.

Bucky pulled the futon away from the wall, and they ducked down behind it as Wanda flung the blast towards the opposite end of the basem*nt; he reached out with his metal hand and carefully pulled the girl down with them, using his body to shield her while Caleb did the same with Peter.

The explosion rocked the basem*nt, sending all sorts of debris raining down on them, but Peter’s protective barrier held up, and they were saved from any effects of the blast besides the deafening boom that left everyone’s ears ringing.

“Bucky? Bucky are you guys okay?” Steve screamed.

Bucky poked his head up over the couch (laughing to himself when he saw Winter using his body to protect past-Bucky) and was amazed to see Caleb’s computers still up and running. A small fire was burning at the farthest end of the basem*nt, but he didn’t think it posed a concern for them just yet.

‘Good job on suggesting the house with the giant basem*nt,’ past-Bucky shyly whispered to Winter. ‘Very handy…and um, thank you, for uh, looking out for me.’

‘Don’t mention it. But I wanted to kill Rumlow myself!’ Winter whined childishly. ‘This is such bullsh*t.’

'At least the book is gone!' past-Bucky attempted to soothe their murderous self.

“We’re fine,” Bucky assured his friend after checking to make sure the others were okay.

“Peter? Peter, are you okay?” Stark cried, bodily shoving Steve to the side. “Where’s Peter?”

‘Steve is the main one injured and he just gets shoved aside, what the f*ck,’ Winter hissed. He brushed imaginary dirt off himself and then past-Bucky, their original-self smiling fondly at the Soldier’s fussing

“Here!” Peter called, raising his hand up from behind the futon… not that he was tall enough or had limbs long enough to be seen by the camera.

“I can’t see you kid,” Stark admitted with a wince, glancing helplessly at someone off camera.

Caleb helped Peter stand up, the smaller teen leaning into his boyfriend’s side with a pained groan. “I think I might be the damsel in all of this, actually.”

“Where’s Wanda?” Natasha asked, elegantly nudging her way in front of Stark with the grace of a ballerina.

“Wanda, are you okay?” Clint called, his brows pinched together in concern.

“I’m fine,” Wanda assured the others, accepting a hand from Bucky to pull her to her feet; she wobbled a bit as she stood, and Bucky kept an arm around her waist to support her. “Just a bit dizzy.”

“Um, guys,” a visibly irritated Steve cut in. “Thor’s trying to take one of the cat’s home under his cape, because, and I quote, ‘Loki would love one of these cute lil savage beasts, they’re just like him!’”

“NO ONE IS TAKING ANY OF THE MONSTERS HOME!” Stark yelled to the people in the street. “And Vision found the headquarters of the scientists, so I know exactly how many there are supposed to be - they’re all going to be sent to a reservation somewhere far away from here until we figure out what to do with them.”

“Aw, man,” Thor was heard groaning off camera. “But they’d make great pets, even Captain Rogers said so! Look, this one is biting my arm with his vicious little teeth. He’s so precious, please, I must keep him.”

“Well… better go deal with that before Thor throws a temper tantrum.” Clint sighed, shaking his head. "Thanks, Cap."

"No problem," Steve shrugged, and Bucky knew with every fiber of his being that Steve was the one to come up with the idea for Thor to take a cat home to his brother.

“Barnes has a cat, why can’t I?!” Thor shrieked in response to something they couldn’t hear. “I am a god! GIVE ME MY CAT BACK, METAL MAN! OR YOU WILL FEEL THE MIGHT OF THE KING OF NEW ASGARD!”

“We’ll see all of you soon, yes?” Natasha asked sternly.

“Yes, yes, good bye.” Steve put his hand on each of their backs and carefully pushed them towards the fray. “Good luck, catch up with you in a bit.” He turned back towards the camera with a bright smile. “Hi, Buck.”

Bucky’s eyes zoned in on Steve’s battered form, and all of his previous agitation came flooding back. “I’m actually about to come down there and kick your ass, Steve, what do you think bed rest means, huh?”

“Um, I’m sorry?” Steve laughed nervously. “You know I can’t stay away from a fight when someone needs my help.”

“You’re hurt, again,” Bucky hissed, glaring at the camera. “You can take time off to heal, the world can wait.”

Steve nodded, though Bucky held little hope that his words would actually get through to the stubborn man. The blonde bit his lip, his eyes darting somewhere off camera before focusing on him again. Steve rolled his shoulders back and pulled himself to his full height. “Hey, um, after you kick my ass, which I totally deserve for the record, can I… um… maybe, if you would like, can I take you on a proper date? I feel like I haven’t been clear these last few months, but I really like you, Bucky. Like a lot, and exponentially more than in a platonic way. So… would you allow me the honor of taking you on a romantic date, where afterwards I ask you to be my non-platonic boyfriend that I frequently go on romantic boyfriend dates with?...please?”

“You weren’t supposed to say those exact words, that was just an example!” Natasha muttered to Steve, a petulant looking saber tooth cat tucked under her arm… even the cat cast a judgmental look at the embarrassed Avenger.

‘Oh my god!’ past-Bucky squealed, excitedly gripping onto Winter’s arm and jumping in place. ‘Oh my god, it’s happening. It’s happening!!’

‘Nah, Barnes will f*ck it up,’ Winter snickered before groaning in pain. ‘Ow, f*ck, why are you violent, isn’t that my thing?’

“That is, um, if you’re okay with that?” Steve stammered when Bucky remained silent for too long, his own mind outside of his former-selves once again unable to form a single thought. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, we can still be friends -”

“Yes,” Bucky finally said, hesitantly glancing up at the camera.

“Yes, we can still be friends?” Steve questioned uneasily, his body tense. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, his hands clasped tightly together in front of him.

“Yes, we can still be friends,” Bucky confirmed brightly, nodding his head.

‘Told you,’ Winter chirped. ‘Ow! STOP HITTING ME.’

“Okay. That’s um, that’s good, yeah, that’s uh, that’s cool. We can still be friends. I’m glad.”

Steve’s smile was strained… Bucky couldn’t figure out why.

“Bucky, no!” Peter hissed, poking him brutally in the side.

Deciding to forgo simply telling him what he said, past-Bucky and Winter stepped in front of him and acted out the previous conversation verbatim, and Bucky wanted to die on the spot (both from their savage portrayals and his own stupidity).

“I want to go on a romantic date with you! And be your boyfriend, and all of that,” Bucky rushed to clarify, his former-selves returning to their customary place at his back. “But you’ll always be my best friend, no matter what other labels change with us. That one is stuck.”

“Okay,” Steve repeated, his smile wide and relieved. “I love you.”

“You don’t say ‘I love you’ just yet,” someone angrily whispered off camera. “He’ll think you’re moving too fast!”

“I love you, too,” Bucky responded, because it was true… and he also didn’t want to leave Steve there looking like a schmuck. “I’m going to turn the camera off now, but I’ll be down there in a few, okay?”

“See you soon,” Steve beamed, his eyes alight with affection.

“They’re gonna be really gross, aren’t they?” Peter muttered to Wanda.

“Definitely,” she agreed, because she was a traitor. “But they deserve the chance to be gross with each other after everything.”

Bucky bit his lip to keep from smiling, but he also knew his blushing cheeks were right there for the world to see as he stood in front of the camera, unable to figure out how to turn the damned thing off.

“Peter, where’s the off button?” he whined disgruntledly after looking everywhere on the device and seeing absolutely zero buttons.

“I don’t know,” Peter answered distractedly from the futon where Caleb was fussing over him, the older boy insisting on checking to be sure his foot was fine. “It’s not my camera.”

“Calebbbbb, help me, please!” Bucky cried, moments away from smashing it to pieces and being done with the whole thing. ”Is this magic? I don’t like it.”

“Go to the keyboard and press the ‘Esc’ button,” Caleb patiently explained, glancing up from his examination of Peter’s foot. “Then, hold it for five seconds to turn off the drone camera.”

“Why didn’t someone say that from the beginning?!” he grumbled irritably.

Bucky looked back over to the monitor to see Steve watching him with a dumb, goofy grin on his face. “Bye bye Stevie, you better be out of the fight when I get there, or I swear to you, I will lose my sh*t, and it won’t be pretty.”

“You’re always pretty no matter what, Buck,” Steve laughed, running a hand through his hair, his bicep ‘accidentally’ flexing through his torn uniform. “It is known.”

“Ugh, gross, Rogers, there are kids watching. I’ll keep an eye on him, Barnes!” Natasha promised with a smirk. “Tony’s sending a quinjet, by the way, it’ll be there in ten.”

“Yeah, no, you’re fired, lady, but thanks,” he scoffed; she already had the job to watch Steve, and she failed epically. He hit the ‘Esc’ button once, and the camera light went off; he held it for five seconds, feeling smug that he witnessed her offended look before the screen went blank again.

“Can you make sure he turned everything off properly, please?” Peter whispered to Caleb, peeking around his boyfriend’s broad frame to see Bucky frowning contemplatively at the tech… it was possible he was simply conversing with his former-selves, but Peter wanted to be sure they had full privacy before unleashing his freak-out on the group.

“Sure,” Caleb answered, standing up from the futon. He paused briefly before leaning down and planting a light kiss on Peter’s cheek. “I’m sorry, Peter, for everything.”

“I know, Caleb, and we’ll need to talk about it all later when we’re alone, but I’m glad everyone is okay,” Peter shyly responded, staring down at his hands solely because he didn’t want Caleb to see his burning cheeks - he forgot how flustered the other man made him feel, and he could sense Wanda’s teasing smirk in his peripheral vision after she finished extinguishing the flames from the blast with the fire extinguisher Caleb kept near his computers for 'reasons'.

The older girl plopped down next to him once Caleb left, and he watched her test her magic to see if she could extinguish the remaining small flame left by levitating the foam directly into the fire (she succeeded, duh, because she’s Wanda, and she’s cool like that).

“You okay?” she asked once she finished her science experiment.

He sighed, unsure how to answer her. “Well…”

“Great job, Winter, you turned everything off,” he heard Caleb praise Bucky.

Ah good, now was his moment.

“NO, I AM NOT OKAY!” he screamed, internally wincing at how high his voice went and feeling mildly guilty for causing Bucky to startle so much at the sudden sound.

He lowered his voice but lifted his head, making sure to send a ferocious glare at all three.

“First, Caleb ghosts me out of nowhere when I thought things were going well. Then, this morning when I had mentally prepared to confront him, Wanda bails on me with the strangest excuse I’ve ever heard but says I should spend the day in the lab. Then, I get a text from Caleb randomly asking me to come over to talk. Then, I show up and find Bucky’s been transformed into the Winter Soldier again by Caleb’s creepy uncle, no offense, Caleb, and Winter shoots me almost the second I walk in the door. But then! He winks at me despite looking all dead behind the eyes, which, total mood by the way, existence is suffering. And then I had to fake being shot, and everyone knows I’m not a good actor, it’s so stressful ! And then I realized, while faking my death, that Wanda lied to me about doing Steve’s taxes all day and actually came here without me which, hello betrayal, it’s me, your old friend, Peter. And now I just revealed to the world that I’m Spider-Man, and Mr. Stark is going to be mad at me because I also lied to him about why I needed to leave the lab early, and I can’t handle people being mad at me, I’m sensitive. And Steve and Bucky are going on a date and the whole world knows it, which is just AHH! So no, Wanda, I am NOT okay, there’s a lot happening right now, and I don’t know what to do.”

He paused momentarily, another thought coming to him. “And I also thought Caleb was cheating on me with a guy who turned out to be his cousin, so I feel very Game of Thrones cringey about that.”

Peter sucked in a sharp breath and slowly let it out after finishing his explanatory monologue, Wanda and Caleb staring wide eyed at him in shock at the sheer amount of words that poured out his mouth.

But Bucky was pouting morosely, his entire disposition radiating anxiety and discomfort which sent Peter’s Spider Senses into chaos.

“Bucky? What’s wrong?” he timidly asked the former-assassin.

“You don’t like the idea of Steve and I together?” Bucky kept his eyes on the floor, wringing his hands together. “May I ask why?”

“Uh… did I say that?” Peter glanced towards Wanda, who shifted her hand back and forth in a ‘so-so’ type gesture.

“I appreciate your honesty, of course,” Bucky continued, seeming sincere, but still, the pout remained, and Peter HATED the knowledge that he caused it. “I just…thought you’d be happy, maybe at least a little bit? I know you two don’t always get along, so, I’m, umm… I’m sorry for not realizing before now that you don’t like him at all. It’s very sh*tty and self-centered of me, and I haven’t been good to any of you lately, and I’m sorry, truly. I promise to do better by all of you, and I appreciate you guys always sticking with me, even though I am an awful friend.”

“No!” Peter shouted after a stunned moment of silence.

Bucky’s eyes widened, his face crumbling in anguish; the expression sent daggers stabbing through Peter’s entire being, like Steve Rogers was mentally sticking knives in a Peter voodoo doll for upsetting his friend, which you know what? That was fair, and deserved, because holy sh*t, Bucky should NEVER look that sad, ever.

“Oh, okay,” he murmured; Peter flinched when Wanda violently punched him in the arm, shooting him an angry look that screamed, “fix this now, or I’ll kill you myself.”

Peter jumped up from his seat, running to his upset friend and crashing into him, his arms wrapping tightly around Bucky’s muscular torso in a bruising hug.

“I’m super excited for you guys, Bucky, please believe me, I just am really bad with words and spend too much time on the internet so sometimes my way of speaking isn’t understood by people who don’t spend all their time on Twitter and Tumblr.”

“I don’t know what those are,” Bucky quietly admitted, tentatively returning the hug.

“Exactly!” he exclaimed, turning his face to the side so his cheek was pressed against Bucky’s chest, allowing him to speak more clearly (not that it would help much, since Peter was a disaster). “But, yes, Bucky, I was literally screaming the entire time he was very awkwardly asking you out on a date, like, excited screaming, I thought I was legitimately hallucinating for a bit.”

“Me too,” Bucky laughed, running his fingers through Peter’s probably very messy hair (he didn’t really take time to make sure he looked decent before rushing to Caleb’s, oh god, f*ck, he was probably on camera like that, too, ugh). “To both parts, thinking I was hallucinating and screaming on the inside.”

“It was a very soft moment,” Wanda grinned, Caleb nodding in agreement next to her. “I feel like Natasha is extremely proud of her non-Wanda bestie, Steve.”

Bucky made a noncommittal sound. “I’m also glad everything worked out in the end, and none of you were seriously hurt. A lot just happened, and it’ll make everything weird and strange and new for a bit, but please know… I’m here for all of you, in whatever capacity you need me, like all three of you have helped me in the last year. And I know I’m not the best at showing it, but I love you guys so f*cking much and with the entirety of my being.”

When the firefighters cleared the debris enough for Pepper and Maria to make their way into the remnants of the basem*nt, they found the three youngest clinging to one James Bucky Barnes, all four in tears, and spent a solid ten minutes waiting for the quartet to calm down enough before they could be evacuated onto the quinjet.

Chapter 14: Another Magical Alien Space God

Chapter Text

Bucky assumed their arrival at Times Square would go one of two ways.

One - Steve would be smart and be sitting out of the skirmish (or at least directing from the sidelines), out of harm’s way, and they’d pick him up in the quinjet and go back to the Tower together where Bucky would lovingly bandage Steve’s wounds, and then they’d eventually fall asleep cuddled in each other’s arms with their cat family sleeping soundly nearby.

Two - Steve would be stupid, per usual, and Bucky would find the blonde in the midst of everything, and Bucky would have to angrily watch his six until the fight was over, and then he’d be forced to unleash decades worth of frustration at the reckless man, and then they’d go back to the Tower together where Bucky would patch the blonde up because, despite his rage, he would never trust another random group of people to do it for him ever again, and then they’d fall asleep back to back in Steve's bed (which is way less comfortable than Bucky's) because Bucky needed to be close to him, but not too close whereas Steve could assume he was completely forgiven.

What he did not expect, however, was to arrive to Times Square, Peter and Caleb walking steps behind him (after they’d all insisted Wanda be flown back to the Tower to rest), to see the enraged Avengers in a standoff with some unknown dark-haired man dressed in an all black designer suit, a fretful Thor standing in the middle in a misguided attempt to keep the peace.

“Loki, what are you doing here?” Thor asked, glancing uncomfortably between the two sides. Steve was, naturally, in the center, with Stark on his left then the Hulk, and Natasha on his right with Clint beside her. “You promised when we settled in New Asgard you would stay out of New York.” Thor paused, seeming to realize something. “How did you even get here so quickly?”

“My exact words, Thor, were” the pale man purred, his eyes glinting menacingly as he stared at the Avengers, never once taking his eyes off them, “and I quote, ‘I will stay out of your Midgardian adventures unless you need me.’”

“Well, he doesn’t need you, everything is fine here,” Stark icily cut in, his mask down. “So you can go home now, bye bye.”

“Brother, please, this is nothing more than a misunderstanding,” Thor pleaded, moving closer to his adoptive brother. “I am quite all right, as you can see. There does not need to be another fight today, we are all friends here.”

‘We’re meeting another alien space god!’ past-Bucky cried, nearly jumping up and down again with excitement again. “Oh my god, this is so cool, this is seriously the best day ever.’

‘Need I remind you,’ Winter disgruntledly drawled. ‘He’s the dangerous one that tried to take over Earth a few years ago?’

‘He’s a MAGICAL alien space god,’ Bucky corrected, ignoring Winter. ‘And yes, ahh, this is beyond cool!’

The Avengers muttered disagreeably at the term ‘friends,’ and Loki rolled his eyes. “If that is the case, brother, then why did the Metal Man insist on calling reinforcements?”

“What?” Steve asked, glancing behind him in confusion, having been too focused on the standoff to hear the newcomers (which really made Winter grumble in annoyance, because they hadn’t exactly been quiet). “Oh, hey, Buck.” (Bucky was sure even the people from blocks away could see the blush on the Captain’s skin).

“That’s Sergeant Barnes, the Spider Child, and his boyfriend,” Thor calmly answered, his hands held up placatingly. “I’ve told you about the first two, remember? They were arriving to take the Captain away for Medical treatment, I doubt they knew you were here.”

“It’s true, Mr. Loki,” Peter quickly answered, his eyes wide and innocent. “Hi, I’m Peter, by the way, it’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m sure it would not be nice if you knew who I was,” Loki darkly chuckled, his outfit changing with a ripple from the black suit to a green tunic with a flowing cloak.

‘Whoa,’ past-Bucky gasped in awe, and Bucky had to agree with his former-self... that was f*cking awesome, holy sh*t.

“Puny god,” Hulk grumbled, picking a bunch of white feathers off himself and appearing the most relaxed out of all the Avengers.

‘Good to know the giant bird is gone, but I wanted us to have a go at it,’ Winter whined, kicking his foot at the ground. ‘Rumlow wasn’t even a challenge, but that bird looked fun. Why does no one let me have fun anymore?!’

'There, there,' past-Bucky comforted Winter, patting him on the head several times. 'There will be many more fights to come, I'm sure.'

“Get back on the quinjet,” Stark hissed, glaring at Peter. “This does not concern you, and you’re already in enough trouble as it is.”

Peter frowned and used his patented Misty Doe Eyes attack. “But Mr. Stark, I can help.”

“Buck?” Steve attempted to use his own Imploring Golden Retriever Eyes attack on Bucky, but the former-assassin held strong, remembering the mission. “We got this, can you take the kids back with you to the Tower, please?”

Bucky opened his mouth to un-politely decline, because if anything, they could get back on the quinjet under their own power, but Peter angrily spoke first. “We are not kids, we are adults, and I don’t know how Loki would know Thor was upset, but I know exactly why he would think that.”

Thor’s eye widened in understanding, his gaze landing on a thread of string around Loki’s neck. “You actually kept the Alfheim Mood Talisman I gifted you?”

“Don’t seem so surprised, Brother,” Loki glowered, his eyes darting towards Thor before settling back on the Avengers. He unconsciously fiddled with the necklace around his neck. “New Asgard cannot survive without their King, and since you cannot seem to stay away from fruitless, reckless endeavors, it is a useful way to keep an eye on you when Heimdall is busy looking elsewhere.”

“Relatable,” Bucky petulantly muttered under his breath.

Steve sighed, rubbing his neck, but didn’t turn around.

“And besides,” Loki angrily spat. “Not only did Heimdall grant me passage, but your ‘Queen’ approved of my quest as well. She even wished me good fortune!”

“Really?” Thor skeptically asked, crossing his beefy arms. “That doesn’t seem like the Brunnhilde I know.”

“She may have been cackling the entire time,” Loki muttered, dismissively shrugging.

One of the remaining free saber tooth cats took this moment to dart between the groups to enter the deli shop through one of the broken windows, both brothers' eyes longingly following the cat’s path.

Clint nocked an arrow into his bow.

Loki, in turn, materialized a dagger into his hand.

‘So cool,’ Winter wistfully sighed, seeming to finally understand their amazement. ‘Why could we not be magical?’

‘I think you’re pretty magical,’ past-Bucky cooed, and Bucky had a sense his former-self was partially joking, but he still wanted to barf a bit at the exchange.

Peter fidgeted, sighed, and then suddenly walked away from the group, a somewhat alarmed Caleb attempting to follow. Bucky reached out and grabbed the youngest Super Soldier’s arm, shaking his head - he had a sense Peter needed to do whatever he was up to on his own.

The youngest hero disappeared into the deli shop and emerged moments later with the gleeful cat cradled protectively in his arms, a chunk of meat clutched securely between its paws.

“Here you go, Mr. Loki,” Peter said, handing the cat to the stunned man. “For you.”

“For me?” he gaped, glancing between Thor and Peter in confusion. “You mean, for Thor?”

“No,” Peter refuted, shaking his head. “He wanted to bring one home for you and got upset when he was told he couldn’t.”

“Yes, well, he has always been childish like that,” Loki responded, but there was no bite in his words as he cuddled the cat in his arms, using the hilt of his dagger to tickle the beast under the chin.

“Peter, you can’t just hand the bad guy a potentially dangerous scientifically engineered creature!” Stark shouted, taking a few steps closer. “Who knows what he could do with something like that!”

Loki flipped the dagger back around in his hand, the cat regally perching itself on his shoulder like Grant would do with Bucky.

‘Good luck trying to separate those two,’ past-Bucky chuckled. ‘Seems as if it has taken quite the liking to him already.’

To everyone’s shock, Peter stepped protectively in front of Loki.

“He’s not a villain,” Peter fiercely declared, one hand on his hip as he glared at his mentor. “I heard Thor and Dr. Banner talking about what happened when they were in space, I heard how Loki helped, and all the things he went through before that. He may have done bad things once here on Earth, but can’t people learn and grow from those mistakes?”

“Peter…” Natasha said, her eyes shifting towards Clint, the archer’s jaw clenched in obvious rage.

‘Oh,’ past-Bucky winced. ‘I guess Loki was the one who brainwashed Clint.’

Winter swallowed. ‘If I remember what Steve said about that incident correctly, he used something called the Mind Stone to do it, which is what rests in Vision’s head.’

‘f*ck,’ Bucky hissed. ‘Now, I see why everyone is so upset.’

Peter continued speaking, and Bucky forced his attention to shift back to the teen. “I understand he hurt people and made bad choices, I get that. But he’s also suffered immensely since then, and he’s only here right now to defend his brother. Must he forever be punished? If we always treat him like a villain, what reason does he have to act differently?”

Peter stood taller, looking each one of the Avengers in the eye. “If we refuse to give him a second chance, wouldn’t that make us hypocrites? Have we never been granted second chances before or granted them to others who technically did terrible things for one reason or another?”

‘Oh,’ Bucky sighed. ‘He’s such a good person, dear god. We don’t deserve Peter.’

‘Excellent emotional manipulation,’ Winter praised, nodding his head in agreement. “I see why he receives top marks in school.’

‘Cats also have a good way of making people a little more human,’ past-Bucky knowledgeably added. ‘So it should be good for Loki to have his own pet.’

Clint and Natasha shared a heated look for several moments.

“Whatever,” Clint exhaled, his body losing some of its tension. “I hope the cat bites him and pees on his furniture, but it’s not my problem.”

The archer strode back towards the quinjet, Natasha following closely on his heels, patting Stark on the shoulder along the way. “The kid’s right, and you know it, Tony.”

Stark groaned loudly. “Fine, fine, whatever, how about you take the whole pack of them while you’re at it? The wooly mammoths already have a home, so you’re out of luck there.”

“Really?” Thor rubbed his chin. “What do you think, brother? I’m not sure Brunnhilde will be too thrilled…”

“How sad for her,” Loki shrugged, his dagger disappearing. “Thank you, Stark, I will happily take the pack.”

“Excellent,” Stark responded, his tone cheerful but his hardened expression showing his true feelings. “Good luck rounding them up, I’m sure their tranquilizers are wearing off by now. Turns out there’s seventy three saber toothed cats in total, so be sure to get every one of them.”

“I’ll help!” Peter happily volunteered. “And I’m sure Bucky and Caleb wouldn’t mind either.”

“I’ll help, too,” Steve offered, much to Bucky’s chagrin.

“Excellent, thank you all!” Thor clapped his hands. “I’m sure this will be a simple endeavor with all of us working together.”

“I’m sure it’ll be a blast,” Stark sarcastically agreed. “But I’m off, need to go drop off Big Green to the Tower and the mammoths to their new home. And Peter, your little behind better be at the Tower when I get there, or I’m calling Aunt May! You can bring your new boy toy since his house exploded, but you better expect a good round of questioning, mister.”

“Yes, sir, thank you, Mr. Stark!” Peter smiled, his previous anger forgotten. “Please, don’t call Aunt May, though, the stress isn’t good for her heart.”

“I can imagine, trust me,” Stark muttered, heading towards the quinjet.

Bucky’s enhanced hearing picked up Stark’s following message spoken over Steve’s com system. “Pepper would like me to remind you losers that Thor, Bruce, Natasha, and Clint all owe her five bucks.”

“Ah, yes, how unfortunate,” Thor groaned in response, speaking into his own communication device. “I really had faith in Barnes, but a bet is a bet. I will acquire five deer for her by the morning.”

“Thor, no.” Steve sighed, running a hand over his face. “And, also, why are you betting on Bucky?!”

“No reason!” Thor evaded, holding a hand out to the feline on Loki’s shoulder (and yanking it back before it could sink its teeth into his skin). “Let’s get to work.”

Thor was, of course, extremely incorrect about the simplicity of their task, and the proceeding hour was the most chaotic moment of Bucky’s life in perhaps decades (which said a lot considering how the last few months alone have gone). Even with the ability to toss the saber toothed cats into a portal to New Asgard once captured, it took them ages to round them all up.

But still, it was fun, working side by side with Steve again, like they were on a mission but with less deadly consequences. They all made it a competition to see who could catch the most which provided a bit more excitement to the otherwise exhausting task.

“Seventy two,” Thor huffed as the portal finally closed. “Seventy three total including the one on your shoulder.”

“Great job, Brother,” Loki praised; he, naturally, had done only very little to help, catching a few stragglers but mostly spending his time thwarting Thor at every turn, much to the amusem*nt of Peter (who set the record for catches, as most of the ones Thor lost ended up running by Peter). “And the Spider Child is the clear winner.”

“Yay!” Peter cheered, fist bumping with an amused Caleb. “That was fun, Mr. Loki! I hope you’ll allow me to visit them once they’re all settled.”

“You can all visit!” Thor declared, clapping Steve roughly on the back and earning a fierce glare from Bucky, the Asgardian holding his hands up in apology.

Loki looked thoughtfully down at Peter. “How would you like to become a prince?”

'We want to become a prince!' past-Bucky screeched. 'Of a magical alien space god? WE VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!'

(Bucky had to bite his tongue, literally, to prevent himself from volunteering in Peter's place.)

“Oh,” Peter mumbled, his eyes wide at the thought. “I am honored by the offer, Mr. Loki, but I must politely decline… I think you’re about 1480-ish years too old for me.” He paused, offering Caleb a soft smile. “Plus, I already have a boyfriend.”

“Loki!” Thor hissed, reaching out to put his hand on his brother’s shoulder until the feline hissed. “No!”

“I meant adoption! The Spider Child must be protected and as gods, we can offer that!” Loki cried, aghast.

His expression turned mischievous, and Steve tensed at Bucky’s side. “Besides, if I was going to offer a marriage proposal to any Midgardian, it would be to the delectable Soldier who joined you.” Loki turned towards Bucky, his smile charming. “My brother’s inferior language skills failed to properly convey how stunning you truly are. If you allow me the honor of making you my Prince, I will ensure the world properly acknowledges both your beauty and battle prowess. You are quite the treasure, love.”

'Hmm... I am suddenly having second thoughts,' past-Bucky admitted with a sigh.

“I, um, wow,” Bucky stammered, his brain struggling to process that he was talking to TWO alien space gods, oh my gosh, the future was amazing.

Steve wrapped his arm around Bucky’s waist, tugging him into his side. “No flirting with my Bucky.”

‘Was that flirting?’ Winter asked quizzically.

‘Probably not,’ past-Bucky answered, echoing Bucky’s own sentiments.

‘An appealing offer, though,’ Winter muttered, rubbing his chin in thought. ‘The world should revere us.... cute but deadly.’

‘I don’t think he’d allow Steve to be in the picture,’ past-Bucky refuted, eyeing Winter judgmentally despite his earlier lust for becoming a prince.

‘To be fair,’ Bucky defended his former-murderous-self, ‘I don’t think Winter understands the concept of marriage.’

“Ah, brother, I’m sorry,” Thor apologized with a frown. “We would have to fight the Captain for Barnes’s affections and battle Stark for custody over the Spider Child. I don’t believe either of those wars would win us any affection on Midgard.”

‘Fighting Steve would not earn our affections either,’ Winter acknowledged, a concept all three easily agreed on.

“But we would win, for the record,” Loki stressed, glaring at his brother.

“Of course!” Thor chuckled, bravely resting his arm on the shoulder of the shorter man and shooting the feline on the other side a sharp glare when it hissed at him…again. “Now, it’s been quite the day, so let’s get back to New Asgard to make sure these cute beasts haven’t run amuck all over Brunnhilde.”

“Yes,” Loki agreed with a nod. “She would definitely maim you if that was the case.”

“Wait, what?” Thor huffed, frowning down at his brother. “She’d maim both of us, if anything.”

“Oh no,” Loki smirked, and Bucky could clearly see why he was the God of Mischief. “Just you. It was your decision, wasn’t it, Thor, King of New Asgard?”

“But Loki!” Thor whined, pouting. “That isn’t fair, those beasts are yours. Tell him, Captain Rogers, that it isn’t fair that I get maimed for Loki’s cats being mischievous like their father!”

Thor glanced imploringly to Steve, the smaller blonde’s eyes widening in alarm when their intense gazes shifted to him. “I’m an only child, and I’ve learned the hard way not to get involved in sibling disputes.”

“Life isn’t fair,” Loki solemnly declared, patting his brother’s hand. “Heimdall, if you will, please.”

“Bye, Mr. Thor, bye Mr. Loki!” Peter called, waving at the pair, his other hand entwined with Caleb’s. “Good luck!”

“Thank you, child,” Loki answered, his tone sincere. “I am in your debt, please let me know if you ever need anything.”

Thor’s eye went wide at his brother’s words, the elder god’s mouth dropping open as Loki bowed his head to Peter.

“Don’t let Mr. Thor get maimed, please?” Peter hesitantly suggested. “He’s running my PE class, and I kinda wanna train with him, if you don’t mind.”

Loki sighed, his cape fanning out mesmerizingly behind him as the portal opened once more. “I will do my best, but only if you promise to not allow yourself to become a brainless fool who thinks only brawn wins battles.”

“Hey!” Thor cried, holding his wounded heart. “Sometimes words hurt just the same as daggers in the side, brother.”

“I promise!” Peter chirped, his smile wide as the two bickering brothers disappeared.

When it was just the four of them, the teen’s smile dropped from his face. “I’m grounded for eternity, aren’t I?

Steve and Bucky simultaneously winced.

“We’ll see what we can do,” Bucky promised, giving the teen a (hopefully) reassuring smile.

Steve awkwardly patted the teen on the shoulder. “But yeah, probably.”

Peter rested his forehead against Caleb’s giant bicep. “Ugh.”

“PETER BENJAMIN PARKER!” a voice shrieked the moment they stepped off the quinjet; acting on reflex, Bucky positioned his body in front of Peter, a handgun appearing immediately in his grip, pointed unwaveringly at the source of the voice.

Bucky blinked in confusion when his eyes met the offended glare of a petite brunette, the sundress-clad woman looking incensed but in more of a “I’m really disappointed in you” way, instead of a “I’m going to kill you with my bare hands” way. She seemed vaguely familiar, but Winter wasn’t hissing or growling behind him, so definitely not Hydra.

‘Good reflexes, Barnes,’ Winter praised with only a hint of sarcasm. ‘Not really needed, but it's always good to remind people you’re a threat.’

“Hi May!” Peter squeaked, reaching out to gently push Bucky’s arm back down to his side. “What are you doing here? On the Stark Tower landing pad? Not that I’m not happy to see you, of course! It’s just a strange place for you to be, you know? Very far from Queens or your work office, and kind of a random place to hang out… is that a new sundress? It looks lovely on you, very chic and classy.”

Poor Peter seemed ready to throw himself off the top of the Tower to avoid continuing this conversation, and Bucky’s exhausted brain suddenly caught on - he was meeting the famous Aunt May for the first time.

“Peter Parker, you are in so much trouble!” Aunt May growled, a delicate hand on her hip and seeming so stern that Bucky began weighing the pros and cons of following the youngest hero if he decided to pitch himself off the Tower.

‘To catch him, I hope, Barnes!’ Winter hissed from behind him on his left.

‘He routinely swings around skyscrapers with his webs,’ Bucky defiantly reminded the Soldier. ‘He’d be fine.’

‘We probably would be the ones who ended up face first on the pavement,’ past-Bucky snorted on his right. ‘Poor Stevie would have to scrape us off with a shovel.’

“I’m sorry!” Peter tried and failed to use Misty Doe Eyes again, and wow, this lady must have been an interrogator at some point, because she didn’t move an inch. “Have you met Bucky yet? Bucky, this is my Aunt May, May this is Bucky. And you’ve met Captain Rogers, I’m sure... maybe? Oh, and this is my boyfriend, Caleb, I’m very sure I mentioned him once or twice.”

“You didn’t,” she scowled, and Bucky really did not envy Peter right now because May could give Sarah Rogers a run for her money in terms of angry Ma looks and that was something Bucky never thought could be possible.

‘Sarah Rogers was generally pretty calm, had to be with a little brat like Stevie, but boy, she was terrifying when she was mad,’ past-Bucky shivered. ‘Ain’t ever thought someone else could be that scary.’

“It’s nice to meet you properly, ma’am.” Steve nudged his way to the front of the group, his smile wide and captivating as he extended his hand to the much smaller woman.

‘Wow,’ Bucky dreamily sighed.

Past-Bucky squealed quietly behind him. ‘He’s beautiful. Look at the way his hair shines in the sun, like he has a halo!’

“Oh,” she stammered, her eyes widening at the full force of Steve Roger’s wholesome American boy-next-door charm (which always made Bucky laugh…once he got over his own fanboying, of course, because Stevie was a little sh*t and nobody ever seemed to pick up on that).

May carefully shook his hand, her eyes darting between his face and Peter’s. “It’s nice to meet you as well, Captain Rogers.”

“Please,” Steve grinned, running a hand through his windswept hair. “Call me Steve, Peter’s family.”

“I’m sorry about earlier ma’am,” Bucky apologized, stepping forward to shake her hand, his eyes unable to meet May’s. “It’s an honor to meet the woman who’s raised such a wonderful young man. And Stevie and I are extremely grateful for the delicious food you send us.”

“Yes, definitely!” Steve laughed, slinging an arm around Bucky’s shoulders. “We’re not much for cooking on our own, and sometimes I swear your food is the only thing keeping us going.”

“No harm done, Bucky,” May said, waving away his apology. “It helps me sleep at night knowing people as strong and brave as you two are watching my nephew’s back. And the food is no trouble, I’m happy to finally have a reason to try all these new recipes.” She turned towards a wide-eyed Caleb, the older boy clutching Peter’s hand tightly. “I’m pleased to meet you as well, and after I yell at Peter for the next ten minutes, I look forward to sitting down and getting to know you.”

“Ok, um, me too!” Caleb stuttered before seeming to shake himself. He took a deep breath, pulling himself together. “Please don’t be too mad at him, ma’am, his actions were a direct result of my inability to communicate. I’m sorry to both you and Peter for my very large part in all this.”

May swept her eyes over Caleb, before sighing. “Apology accepted. You can come too, it’s clear you need a proper scolding as well.”

“May!” Peter cried, outraged. “No!”

“May yes,” she nodded.

“Oh dear,” Peter sniffed, before trying one last Misty Doe Eyes attack - May raised a judgmental eyebrow at her nephew, once again holding strong to the face that crumbled even the strongest Super Soldiers and spies.

‘They aren’t the only ones who need to be scolded,’ Winter snarked, and all three parts of himself trained their gaze on Steve, the blonde tensing at his side as if somehow sensing their anger.

“Can I come, too?” Steve mumbled, hunching his shoulders.

May laughed brightly. “Oh no, Captain, I’ll leave that to Sergeant Barnes. I saw the broadcast, and I’m sure he has a lot on his mind.”

“Oh, that’s an understatement,” he chuckled bitterly, shooting Steve a heated glare.

“Oh dear,” Steve echoed, resigned.

It took all of Bucky’s self control, but he resisted dragging Steve all the way to their apartment by his ear, a tactic he loathed as a kid when his Ma would do it to him - Steve looked too damn pathetic with his patented sad-kicked-puppy-face, and since he followed obediently behind Bucky without a word, Bucky decided he could go forgo such harshness this time (he did laugh internally watching Peter get dragged off in that manner, the boy flailing and whining the entire time at the unfairness of it all while keeping a firm grip on a petrified Caleb’s hand).

Before reaching their apartment, they made a brief pitstop on Wanda’s floor, Bucky needing to ensure she was alright considering everything that happened that afternoon - he wouldn’t forgive himself for the danger she faced because of him, and he knew he’d be a little overprotective over her for the next few weeks until the heart-stopping fear he felt when he first entered the basem*nt faded from his conscious memory (Bucky was starting to understand Stark and Clint’s insistence on the kids staying away from missions until they were older and better trained).

Walking into her living room, he almost cooed at the sight of the teen sleeping peacefully on the couch cuddling a throw pillow, all four members of Bucky’s cat family protectively watching over her from their perches on either the armrest or the back of the sofa.

Grant nimbly leapt down onto the coffee table when he saw them enter, picked up a folded piece of paper, and carried it over to his dads with his fluffy tail held high in the air. He dropped the note at Steve’s feet and then began rubbing his face on Bucky’s leg with a deep purr.

“Whatcha got for us, baby?” Bucky wondered, scooping the cat up and placing him on his shoulder after giving him lots of kisses.

Steve picked the note up and read it aloud, his eyebrows creeping up his forehead at a steady rate after every other sentence.

Dear Little Soldier ^-^ ,

I stole your cats because you didn’t come home fast enough, and I was worried to d3ath sitting here waiting with Pep and Ria. So, if you’re reading this, everything is fine, yay!... but no, you can’t have them back until you give me a good explanation about why Loki got to take all the saber toothed vicious kitties, and Wanda got zero (Pep told me, I still can’t predict the future, boooo).

Very sad, James, they were so0o0o cute and would make excellent friends for Grant and co.

Pep gave me pain medicine from the lab for my headache cuz they didn’t have any, but we think it might have been the one BruceHulk made for Super Soldiers (took a tiny dose, but wow, this sh*t is nice!) so excuse this random note, might be embarrassed about it l8er. BUT tbh, you can’t hold this against me cuz I got a lot of cutesy memories to show Stevie if you do… hehe, I should make a scrapbook, bc James, you are ADORABLE.

There is a whole bunch of leftover pizza in the fridge, please eat it all here so it looks like I did and Viz will get off my a$$ about eating more. Paper plates on the table and napkins on the counter.

Love you lots!!!

XoXo -

Baby Witch *-*

Bucky tilted his head towards the kitchen and co*cked an eyebrow, and Steve nodded in agreement, a small grin on his face. They scarfed an entire large pizza each, Steve obviously starving since he kept pace with Bucky who inhaled the meal at his usual alarming rate. Bucky made sure to glare fiercely at Steve across the table when the blonde seemed too cheerful - he didn’t want him to get any funny ideas that he’d get off scot free for his ridiculous behavior.

Bucky dropped a soft kiss on the head of each cat before instructing Grant to watch over Wanda for the night with the kittens, his oldest baby meowing quietly in understanding.

“I’m surprised you didn’t want a saber toothed cat,” Steve mused when they were back in the elevator.

“Why would I want one of those ridiculously cute demons?” Bucky asked, wrinkling his nose. “I’m going to have an enhanced spider cat that’s already well trained long before its enhancements.”

“Ah, yes…makes sense,” Steve nodded, avoiding Bucky’s eyes.

‘I don’t think you’re getting your enhanced spider cat,’ past-Bucky commented dryly.

‘Yeah?’ Bucky grinned manically, grateful his expression was hidden by his long hair. ‘Watch me.’

“I know you’re mad, Buck,” Steve started the moment they stepped off the elevator into their apartment. Bucky arched an eyebrow at the blonde, because mad didn’t even begin to describe his feelings about the last few hours. “And you have every right to be! So, I will sit here and listen to you yell at me without saying a word, but Bucky, you gotta know, while I’m sorry I upset and worried you, I don’t regret leaving one bit.”

‘Of course he doesn’t,’ past-Bucky huffed irritably.

Bucky rolled his eyes, unable to deal with any of this right now. “Get in the shower, Rogers.”

Steve blinked several times, his eyes darting around the room as if looking for one of the cats to appear and start talking in English to explain why Bucky wasn’t yelling at him. “Um. What?”

“Get. In. The. Shower. Rogers,” he repeated, scowling at Steve. “You smell terrible, and I can’t begin to treat your wounds when my nose is burning from how god awful you reek.”

Steve puffed himself up, ready to argue, but deflated the second Bucky took a threatening step forward. “No need to be rude, no, no! I’m going, I’m going, sheesh, you don’t need to push... I said I was going!”

The blonde trudged towards the hall bathroom with his shoulders slumped and head down but paused in the middle of the floor, only halfway to his destination. Bucky had the sense Steve was having an internal debate with himself (a concept Bucky was intimately familiar with since his own head was always at war with itself). Steve swiveled back around to face Bucky, his posture suddenly tall and confident, yet for all his bravado, he was unable to meet the former-assassin’s gaze. “Buck. Will you join me? In the shower, I mean, for uh… safety purposes, of course.”

Bucky snorted at the audacity. “Really, Rogers?”

‘Safety is important to the mission,’ Winter acknowledged.

‘We shouldn’t reward his reckless behavior, though!’ past-Bucky hotly countered to Bucky’s surprise. ‘There will be other, more appropriate times to shower together - this ain’t it.’

Steve’s cheeks tinted pink, but he leaned casually against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. “Yes really, Barnes, you said you’d be my nurse,” Steve argued, tilting his head to the side and looking so much like the mischievous little sh*t Bucky grew up with that he almost gasped in shock. “And as stated before, for reasons that are not entirely my fault, I am clearly in need of more medical care.”

‘Reasons not entirely his fault?’ Winter shouted in outrage. ‘I’d like to hear his explanation for that audacious claim!’

‘Trust me, he’ll come up with a relatively sound argument, and we’ll be here all day bickering back and forth about it because at the end of the day, we all know it’s bullsh*t… just don’t acknowledge it,’ past-Bucky wisely counseled.

Bucky’s torn feelings must have shown on his face, because Steve stood up straight, holding his hands out placatingly as he suddenly backpedaled his previous offer. “You don’t have to do anything if you aren’t comfortable with it, I’m sorry for overstepping, Buck, that was inappropriate for me to suggest.”

He couldn’t help himself and busted out laughing at Steve’s timidity. “I ain’t that sensitive, Stevie, you don’t need to always walk on eggshells around me, I swear.”

Bucky took purposeful steps closer, his gray eyes locked on Steve’s bright blue ones, stopping when they were toe-to-toe. He leaned in ever so slowly, giving Steve plenty of time to turn his head away, and when he didn’t, proceeded to capture him in a short but heated kiss that left both of them breathless.

“We can shower together, lord knows I need one, too,” he whispered against Steve’s lips. Bucky pulled away, smirking at Steve’s stunned, open-mouthed expression. “No funny business, though, Rogers, this ain’t that type of shower and don’t think for a second that I’m no longer mad at your dumb ass.”

“You like my dumb ass,” Steve muttered childishly, following behind Bucky through the former assassin’s room and into the adjacent bathroom.

“I do,” Bucky agreed amicably, turning the shower on and adjusting the temperature to something warm enough to wash away all the dirt and grime from their bodies without burning their skin off (he underestimated how hot Stark showers could go once, and he would never do that again). “Which is why,” he continued, turning around to glare at Steve, “I f*cking hate when you do reckless sh*t and don’t take care of yourself!”

Steve, the asshole, used that moment to carefully unzip his tattered uniform and tug his shirt over his head, an act that sent Bucky’s brain into full on panic mode.

‘Look at those abs!’ past-Bucky swooned, once again echoing Bucky’s own sentiments. ‘Oh god, I may actually faint when we see those thighs, f*ck, he could crush us with them, and I’d say thank you.’

‘Remember when we had abs?’ Winter mourned, which was not helpful right now, good lord, he had enough to worry about without feeling body shamed by his former-self.

‘We’re still f*cking beautiful,’ past-Bucky snapped, immediately shutting Winter’s griping down as the Soldier began to profusely apologizefor upsetting their original-self.

Bucky kept his eyes low as he shed his own clothes, and for the first time in his life, appreciated how his long hair could easily obscure his vision; he didn’t want to see Steve’s pitying expression when he saw how expansive Bucky’s scars were, his entire body grotesquely littered with marks in all shapes and sizes (though the ones on the left side of his chest/back were the most visible, past-Bucky shamefully admitting once that he tried to remove the metal arm himself a few times with no success before Winter fully emerged).

Steve shifted closer to him, moving slowly as if he was afraid to startle him. “Buck.” The blonde gently lifted his chin up, and Bucky’s stupid brain could only focus on how Steve was stripped all the way down to his boxers. “What’s on your mind?”

The former-assassin exhaled, annoyed with himself for making everything so f*cking dramatic all the time. Who cares if he had scars? Who cares if he was no longer in peak physical condition? Who cares if he only had one flesh arm? Who cares if Steve was in optimal condition, scarless, with all his correct body parts, and basically a perfect, flawless specimen while Bucky might as well have been Frankenstein’s monster?

‘He’ll finally see how ugly you are on the outside,’ his inner voice hissed, and wow, Bucky did NOT miss this asshole one bit. ‘And he already knows how hideous you are on the inside, so might as well say goodbye now.’

‘Your inner voice is a lying piece of sh*t,’ Winter growled darkly. ‘Besides, he’s seen us practically naked already since you wear strange clothing that offers zero protection against attack.’

“Buck?” Steve repeated, his tone worried.

“It’s stupid,” he muttered, hoping to avoid the conversation. “And not a big deal.”

‘Your inner voice knows nothing,’ past-Bucky hissed. ‘We’re hot as f*ck, and even if we weren’t, Steve isn’t the type of guy to care about looks.’

“Okay,” Steve nodded with a kind smile. “I still wanna know, though.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, pretending to be annoyed to hide his fondness. “Always been nosy, ain’t that right?”

“Duh,” Steve snorted, reaching out and carefully tucking a lock of Bucky’s hair behind his ear. “And I always wanna know everything about you. Some things never change.”

Bucky glanced away, because weren’t Steve’s words the core of the problem? “A lot of things do change, though.”

“They do.” Steve placed a featherlight kiss on Bucky’s forehead, the sweet gesture making his knees feel weak. “But here’s one that hasn’t - you’re still the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in my ridiculously long life, Buck.”

‘Told you!’ past-Bucky shouted over the jumbled screaming undecipherable thoughts crashing around Bucky’s brain.

“Yeah?” Bucky glared heatedly at his friend, trying and failing to remain unaffected. “I guess the serum didn’t work too well on your eyes, cuz you should look in the mirror sometime, pal!”

Steve rubbed the back of his head, and Bucky’s eyes distractedly tracked the flexing of his bicep, and wow, what an arm. “Was that… a compliment delivered like an insult?”

Bucky shrugged, a smile threatening to form on his face.

“Well, let me tell you,” Steve said with a laugh. “I am excited to use some of those fancy products you’re always going on about.”

“This is not a pampering session!” Bucky hissed; he almost choked on his own spit when Steve turned around to step into the shower, his boxers dropping to the floor along the way.

“Will you wash my hair, please?” Steve asked, his eyes wide and pleading, and Bucky was so very f*cked - how was he going to survive the next half hour or so without completely embarrassing himself for eternity and being forced to move to the farthest realm away from Earth to live out the rest of his pitiful life in forced isolation with nothing but the voices in his head to keep him company?

‘Would it be worse if you did get a boner or if you didn’t get one while naked with the guy of your dreams in a steamy shower where you’re washing each other’s hair and rubbing soap over each other’s bodies?’ past-Bucky unhelpfully pondered. ‘Curious, very curious.’

‘With all due respect, kindly shut the f*ck up!’ Bucky groaned. ‘I don’t know.’

‘I think -’

‘No Winter, you shut up, too!’ Bucky whined, and the Soldier huffed in annoyance but thankfully didn’t continue.

“Fine, I’ll wash your hair, but I’m gonna get shampoo in your eyes on purpose!” he muttered, causing Steve to laugh loudly and agreeing that was fair.

Bucky took a deep breath, discarded the rest of his clothing, and followed the blonde into the wondrous giant shower, closing his eyes and allowing the warm water to temporarily wash away most of his worries.

“Uh… Buck?” Steve hesitantly asked, and Bucky’s eyes flew open, his mouth half opened to explain the cause of some of his nastier scars or the boner he didn’t know he had until he realized Steve wasn’t even looking at him. “Why do you have so many shampoos? Which one do I use?” He selected a random bottle and squinted at the tiny writing, mouthing the words to himself as he read the description. “Can I use this one? Says it’ll make my hair silky and strong.”

“Course you would pick the most expensive one,” Bucky groused, feeling bad when Steve quickly put it back down. “Nah, that one is fine, guess I will give you the full fancy product treatment after all.”

“You don’t -”

“I know I don’t have to,” Bucky interrupted, grabbing Steve’s arm and pulling him out from under the spray. He allowed his gaze to trail down Steve’s muscular back and almost fainted when he saw how perfectly shaped his lower half was, his skin unblemished and unmarked (and the entire back of his body was woundless, which was always a good sign). “But I want to, so I’m going to.”

‘Touch the butt!’ Winter jeered.

‘Don’t touch the butt without consent!’ past-Bucky shrieked. ‘You were the one who said no funny business.’

‘But how is touching the butt funny?’ Winter asked with sincerity. ‘If he squeezes it, it’d probably feel nice, look how perky it is!’

‘Ugh, good lord, so -’ past-Bucky started explaining the expression, and Bucky tuned their conversation out to focus on his task.

“Ooh, I see the appeal of someone else washing your hair,” Steve hummed delightedly; Bucky placed his left hand on Steve’s shoulder to keep him from moving, his metal fingers carefully working out several muscle knots while his flesh hand thoroughly worked the expensive shampoo into his scalp. “Can I wash yours after?”

“No.”

“Oh. Okay,” Steve sighed, and how he could sound like a kicked puppy absolutely baffled Bucky.

“Maybe,” he acquiesced, nudging the blonde forward to move under the spray.

“Yay,” Steve quietly cheered. He remained silent for several moments while Bucky delicately rinsed the shampoo from his hair before shocking the dark-haired man with his next words. “You know… you scared the sh*t out of me today, literally think my heart stopped at several different moments during the broadcast.”

“Um, what?” Bucky fretted, accidentally scraping his fingernails across Steve’s scalp in a not-sexy way. “Ah, sorry, Stevie.”

“S’okay. My turn?” Steve turned to Bucky expectantly, nothing in his expression giving a clue as to how Bucky frightened him, and the lack of knowledge sent Bucky’s anxiety through the roof (especially when Steve’s eyes slid down Bucky’s entire frame before darting back to his face, his expression sheepish).

“No, you need conditioner,” Bucky said, guiding him back into his previous spot. “Hand me the purple bottle, please.”

Steve did as he was told (for once), but seemed content to silently allow Bucky to massage the conditioner into his hair.

“How, um, how did I scare you?” Bucky stammered, his heart pounding in his chest - he loathed the idea of his oldest friend being afraid of him, and he wasn’t sure how he could fix something like that because he was designed to be someone people should fear.

“Oh, yeah, sorry, head is kinda floaty,” Steve giggled, his body visibly losing some of its tension. “During the whole Winter Soldier part mostly, good lord, Buck, I was spooked to the core!”

“I wasn’t going to kill anyone, Steve,” Bucky defended, his voice sounding harsher than he intended.

“What?” Steve twisted to face Bucky, and the former-assassin had to pull his hand back quickly before he accidentally rubbed conditioner into his face. “I knew you weren’t going to kill anyone, Bucky, what the f*ck?”

“Then how did I frighten you as the Winter Soldier?” Bucky demanded, jutting his chin out.

“Because you were so f*cking convincing!” Steve shouted, waving his arms in the air and almost smacking Bucky in the face in the process. “You looked and sounded exactly like you did when we first met on the bridge in DC and then again on the helicarriers before we got into it, and Bucky, it was terrifying. I thought Wanda’s magic hadn’t worked or they found some way around it, and I was going to lose you again.”

‘Thank you, thank you, I am a phenomenal actor,’ Winter boasted, and Bucky pictured him giving little bows to an imaginary crowd.

“Oh,” Bucky said softly, unsure what else to say. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

Steve’s eyes swept over Bucky’s face. “I’m pretty sure more than half of the people in the street were sobbing when the Winter Soldier asked if it was being terminated because it failed a mission.”

‘I am an excellent emotional manipulator!’ Winter bragged, past-Bucky fondly chuckling in the background. ‘Truly, I am exceptional, there should be a monument dedicated to me and my ingenuity.’

The corner of Bucky’s lip pulled up. “Nah, her magic worked, I just channeled your dramatic ass and acted. I will be expecting a pile of awards all dedicated to me, by the way, so you better make sure that happens.”

Steve rolled his eyes, playfully flicking Bucky’s forehead. “Gee, you’re welcome, happy to help, and yes, you deserve all the awards, so I’ll get right on that.”

Bucky couldn’t help himself, his eyes trailing down Steve’s face and fixating on his plump, reddened lips. He leaned forward to steal a kiss, but Steve hastily stepped backwards, preventing him from doing so.

‘He doesn’t want to kiss me all of a sudden?’ Bucky dejectedly whispered. ‘He let me kiss him in the hall, but I guess now that he’s seen me naked… does he regret asking me out? Or is it just cuz I said no funny business? But if I’m the one starting it, then obviously I wouldn’t consider that funny business… I don’t understand.’

‘The answer is obvious, you idiot. He saw your ugliness,’ his inner voice mocked. ‘I warned you - you were never good enough for him before the train, and you never will be after it. You’re disgusting.’

‘Future-self, remember who you’re dealing with,’ past-Bucky chuckled, deciding to ignore Bucky’s inner voice’s comments. ‘It’s Steve.'

Bucky’s eyes widened, suddenly understanding (or so he hoped). He arched an eyebrow, taking in Steve’s nervous fidgeting. “Bit late to play the gentleman card, ain’t it, Stevie?”

“No!” Steve glowered, stepping under the water to aggressively rinse out the conditioner in his hair while keeping his eyes locked on Bucky's. “I want to do right by my best guy, because that’s what he deserves.”

“Uh huh,” Bucky replied, crossing his arms. “And?”

“And,” Steve huffed, scrubbing his burning eyes when a bit of conditioner got into them. “I don’t want to scare him away by moving too fast.”

‘Wait, wait, wait!’ past-Bucky shrieked. ‘Ask him about that first I love you moment.’

Oh, f*ck, he forgot about that debacle.

Bucky tossed his favorite shampoo to a surprised Steve, the blonde barely managing to catch the bottle before it smacked him in the face. The former-assassin twisted around, flipping his hair over his shoulder in case Steve didn’t get the message from the first hint.

“So,” Bucky began, his arms wrapped around his middle. “Remember that time you told me you loved me when I was on bed rest?”

“Of course I remember, Buck,” Steve lightly laughed. He worked a generous amount of shampoo into Bucky’s long hair, and f*ck, that felt good; despite the uncomfortable conversation topic, his muscles relaxed as Steve delicately rubbed his scalp. “What about it?”

He sighed internally, unsure what answer he desired to hear. “Did you mean it romantically, then?”

Steve led Bucky under the spray and started gently rinsing the shampoo out. “One hundred and fifty thousand percent meant it romantically.”

‘Whelp,’ past-Bucky winced.

‘You’re an idiot, Barnes,’ Winter snorted, sounding fond rather than judgmental at least.

“Oh,” Bucky mumbled, feeling his face heat up in embarrassment. “Uh, sorry, that was my bad. I thought you meant it as friends.”

“And I thought you knew exactly what I meant and were nicely letting me down,” Steve quietly elaborated, though his next words were slightly louder, and Bucky could hear his exasperation. “Sorry for not saying it clearer, but Bucky, I really feel like that wasn’t giving off platonic vibes by that point! I know you know that friends don’t make out like we were… conditioner?”

Bucky pointed to the correct bottle, his back still turned so he couldn’t see Steve’s face. “Well, in my defense, I’ve been hopelessly in love with you since I was a teenager, so I never would have anticipated you returning my feelings.”

He waited patiently for Steve to grab the bottle, but when he remained stationary, Bucky sighed and leaned forward to grab it for him. He turned around to hand the bottle to Steve, rolling his eyes when he saw Steve’s gob-smacked expression.

“That cannot be a surprise,” Bucky glared, poking the frozen man with the conditioner bottle. “My hair needs to be conditioned, Stevie, and we’re wasting water.” Steve snatched the bottle from his hand with a huff, and Bucky twisted back around, making sure his hair smacked Steve in the face in the process.

“I call bullsh*t, Buck, absolute bullsh*t,” Steve grumbled, but obediently worked the conditioner through Bucky’s wet hair. “You never once showed an ounce of interest in a man, let alone me of all people. And that’s when I was ugly and tiny and sick all the time, and you had every dame in the neighborhood following after you.”