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Bucky woke up early Saturday morning. He carefully untangled himself from Steve (who had commandeered both their pillows and was drooling adorably), rolling stealthily off the bed and peeking back up to see if Steve had noticed his escape.
Steve drooled on.
Bucky smirked. At least the seventy years of involuntary assassin training were good for something.
He picked his shirt up from the floor and glanced bewilderedly for a few seconds at his boxers where they dangled from the ceiling fan (it was mostly for show – the Tower had the best central air conditioning system known to man, and Stark never failed to remind them of that). Then, brushing off his confusion, Bucky casually reached up and plucked his underwear from its perch. It really wasn’t any weirder than that time Thor brought a huge vat of Asgardian liquor to an Avengers party, and Bucky woke up in the bathtub the next morning with his hair in twenty tiny pigtails, his socks on his hands, and his shirt stuck in their communal kitchen blender.
He hopped to the living room, pulling on his boxers as went and saw the half-empty mug of tea that he was forced to abandon last night when he and Steve had become – preoccupied with other things. Feeling a bit devastated by the waste of perfectly good earl gray, Bucky picked it up and took a careful sip. It was cold and slimy and tasted like wet leaves.
He shrugged and downed the rest. He’d had worse.
Bucky had made his way to the kitchen and was staring at their overstuffed fridge when a sudden buzz from behind startled him. A carton of eggs went flying towards the source of the noise before he realized that it was just Steve’s cell vibrating from where it sat on the island counter. He peered at it carefully. Although Natasha had apparently dedicated a quarter of her life to adjusting him and Steve to modern technology, it was still a work in progress.
The bright display flashed: “YOUR FAVORITE GENIUS INVENTOR (and the one who taught you how to look up porn *kissy emoticon* <3)”.
Bucky’s eye twitched. He grabbed the phone.
“Stark,” he growled, the ferocity of which was lessened by the fact he spent a full thirty seconds trying to slide the green “answer call” button. Thankfully, he still sounded plenty scary, if Stark’s sudden, too-quick inhalation of air was any indication.
“Heyyyy, Barnes,” he said slowly. “Uh, Steve didn’t happen to maybe, hopefully, please if there’s a God, change my name in his contacts, did he?”
Bucky growled, and Stark’s answering gulp pleased him immensely. Bucky was really good at growling. Even Natasha had given her compliments.
“Well, I suppose if I have the sweet call of a slow and painful death to look forward to, I should get straight to the point. Is, uh, Steve awake?”
“I’m awake.”
“Right. Uh. So, you checked the news yet?”
Bucky glanced at the overly large flat screen in the adjacent overly large living room. He and Steve had been steadily making their way through the stack of Disney movies Stark had procured for them, along with the Star Wars and Star Trek CDs Barton had not-so-subtly slipped into their collection. It was probably still paused on Beauty and the Beast from last night.
“No.”
“Well, don’t be startled – if you can even be startled –” Bucky looked at the cracked eggshells on the counter and made a silent vow that Stark would never know about this. “– because I swear, you Russian assassins seem to have this really, really unnerving ability to know everything at all times. I mean, Natasha bought me Captain America underwear for my birthday for, and I quote, ‘childhood nostalgia.’ She couldn’t have known that I wore Captain America boxers for most of my teenage years! I mean, she’s right, but she couldn’t have known that.”
Bucky, who had started pouring cereal in a bowl during Stark’s rambling, simply breathed a little louder and waited for Stark’s brain to catch up to his words.
“Wow. Wow, I really shouldn’t have said that. Does this mean you’ll kill me a little quicker? Please tell me this means you’ll kill me a little quicker.”
Bucky pulled a bottle of milk from the fridge and glanced at the expiration date. “Get to the point, Stark,” he growled. He really was good at that.
“Right, right. Don’t be alarmed because it’s really a typical day for New York. This sort of thing happens all the time, but Fury, the lovable paranoid bastard, thought it would be prudent to call up all the Avengers to check it out. Although, to be fair, I don’t really see how this is a problem –”
“Stark. The point.”
“Well, you know, it’s New York. There are mutant rats running in the sewers, runaway baby strollers on the sidewalks, and – oh, yeah, a rip in the fabric of space-time appeared on top of the Avengers tower, and there are people coming out of it claiming to be superheroes from an alternate dimension.”
Bucky’s milk sloshed past the bowl and across the counter, pooling around the sad, cracked eggs.
“So, yeah, typical day and everything. Mind getting Steve up for this?”
Bucky dropped the phone into his over-flowing bowl and watched as the piece of metal let out a series of dying sparks before a slow plume of smoke rose into the air. He cursed in English. Then in Russian for good measure.
Of course, it was at this moment that Steve wandered into the kitchen, wearing only a shirt and sleepily rubbing his eyes.
“Morning, Buck,” he said without glancing up. “How about eggs for breakfast?”
Bucky looked at Steve, then at the broken eggshells that mocked him silently from the counter.
He really, really, hated the future.
---
The rest of the Avengers were all suited up and staring awkwardly at another group of awkwardly staring people when Steve and Bucky finally made it to the roof.
Well, most of them were staring. Natasha seemed to have struck up a conversation with a feline-looking lady clad in black. A quick listen told Bucky that they were discussing the merits of lycra. Next to them, Barton and a man wearing too much green were comparing bows. Everyone else shifted uncomfortably as they tried not to stare at the huge, swirling blue portal behind the new strangers’ backs.
Stark perked up when he caught sight of Steve.
“Hey, Spangles! About time you showed up. What took so long?”
Steve flushed. “Uh, we got distracted.”
Stark’s grin slowly faded as he glanced back towards where Bucky was doing his very best to loom. Looming, as Natasha taught him, was a very important skill in the art of intimidation. Of course, Bucky already knew this, but anything given the seal of approval by Natasha should be used as often and effectively as possible.
Stark took a few steps back. “Right. Well, we were waiting for you to, you know. Talk to their leader? Ask if they come in peace? I really don’t know the protocol for dealing with potentially friendly aliens. Usually, we just punch them in the face.”
Steve frowned. “Didn’t you tell Bucky that they were from another dimension?”
“Well, that’s the theory, but no one knows for sure.”
“Have you tried talking to them?”
Stark let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-disbelieving snort. “Really, Cap, do you think I’m the best one to engage unknown enhanced beings who may or may not be hostile at the time but definitely will be after I start talking?” He sighed dramatically. “It’s evident that my special brand of charisma isn’t for everyone.”
Bucky had to bite his tongue to avoid letting out an actual chuckle. He did not find Tony Stark amusing. Bucky loomed harder.
“I don’t know,” Steve said. “Natasha and Clint seem to be doing fine.”
“Just talk to them, Cap. Ask what they want. World domination? Money? A really, really nice hot beverage? Thor already said that one of them seemed godly in nature, and I do not want to fight another god after Loki.”
Steve sighed and puffed up into his Captain America posture. “Alright.”
He slowly approached the two men standing at the front of the group, one who was wearing really bright spandex and the other who had on some sort of bat costume. Bucky followed on his heels.
“Hello,” Steve said diplomatically, and Bucky almost snorted as he mentally compared this Steve to the one who used to charge into alleys with trashcan lids. “I am Captain America, and this is Earth. We mean no harm as long as you are here in peace.”
“Hello, Captain,” the bright spandex man replied in an equally diplomatic voice. “I am called Superman, and we too mean no harm. However –” He paused and glanced around. “– I was under the impression that we were from Earth.”
“It’s probably another dimension, Spangles,” Stark supplied helpfully from Steve’s other side. “They say they’re superheroes too.”
“We do indeed save people,” Superman (God, Bucky thought. Superman, really? And I thought our Avengers names were stupid.) said. “This portal appeared during one of our congregations. We were unsure what to do at first. I suggested a vote, but Batman here decided to charge through it, thereby eliminating any actual decision-making.”
Batman? Bucky stared at the masked man. Because he’s a man who dresses up like a bat? I take everything back. Stark’s name is ridiculous, but at least he doesn’t call himself ‘Suit Man’ or, God forbid, ‘Robot Man.’
As the four of them continued discussing boring, technical issues, Bucky noticed that the rest of the Avengers and alternate dimension heroes had drifted towards each other. Thor was heartily congratulating a man holding a trident on his luscious locks, and Banner seemed truly interested in whatever the red and gold man with a lightning bolt on his chest was saying to him.
Suddenly, Bucky felt eyes on him, and he glanced over to see a dark-haired woman staring in his direction. She had a shield strapped to her back and intricately carved metal gauntlets on both forearms. Bucky looked back at Steve, who was making his sincere face and looked genuinely absorbed in whatever Superman was saying. He seemed alright for now. Bucky would loom later, and if either Stark or the alternate dimension duo tried anything, he’d punch them in the windpipes.
The woman nodded at him when he approached.
“Is he yours?” she asked without preamble.
Bucky paused, momentarily startled by her directness, but she seemed to mistake his silence for something else.
“I apologize,” she said, smiling slightly. “I did not mean to be so blunt. I have spent many years among humans, but it seems I still have not completely grasped their ways.”
Among humans. Meaning that she herself was not one. It said something about Bucky’s life now that he didn’t even find that noteworthy.
“It’s fine.” He looked at Steve and softly marveled at the curve of his mouth when he smiled. “You’re not wrong. We’re… each other’s.”
The woman nodded sagely, as if his words explained everything. “He reminds me of someone I used to know.”
She turned dark eyes towards him, and in them, Bucky saw a flash of something familiar. It was in Steve’s eyes when he sometimes spoke of the past, in his own when he looked in the mirror and thought of old times – harder in some ways but simultaneously so much easier. Bucky felt the usual walls he put up when speaking with a stranger crumble slightly.
“Were they important to you?” he asked.
Her smile turned wistful. “He was – different. His appearance in my life changed how I look at many things.”
“Yeah. I’ve known the punk all my life, but Steve still surprises me every day.”
Her gaze, which had returned to Steve, quickly swiveled back to him. “What did you say?”
Bucky started, feeling strangely unnerved for the first time in a while. The woman’s presence reminded him of Thor, a mountain of crackling static barely contained within a body.
“He still surprises me every day,” he repeated slowly.
“His name is Steve.”
“Yes.”
The woman blinked, then a slow smile spread across her face. “Of course it is.”
She extended a hand, and Bucky grasped it with his own. Her grip was firm.
“I am Diana of Themyscira, daughter of Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons. Would you like to have coffee?”
---
After the initial awkward introduction (in which Bucky had replied in a stilted voice, “I am James Buchanan Barnes… of Brooklyn. Son of George and Winifred Barnes. Citizens of… the United States?”), Bucky and Diana got along quite well.
He learned that her boyfriend, or rather ex-boyfriend by necessity since he had been dead for a hundred years, was named Steve Trevor, and Steve Trevor was apparently a self-sacrificing little punk.
“Honestly,” Diana said after downing her sixth double espresso. “I am a demigod. If he waited ten minutes for me to finish off Ares, I could have taken that plane down from the ground.”
She knocked back two more of the tiny cups, and Bucky vaguely wondered if he should stop her. She was getting a bit – static-y.
“But no. Steve Trevor had to be a hero, did he not? I believe he said ‘I love you’ right before he got on that godforsaken plane, but I would not know because my eardrums were working as well as his brain was at the time.” She annoyedly brushed back a lock of hair, and the air around her fingers crackled.
Bucky slowly edged the remaining cups of espresso away from her, one at a time.
“The first rule to having a Steve is to not let him near airplanes,” he said. “My working theory is that the hydraulics system does strange things to their decision-making and processing skills, and they turn from self-sacrificing heroes into self-sacrificing idiots.”
Diana had begun constructing a castle out of the empty cups, but she nodded wisely as if his words were perfectly logical. He puffed up a little. It was nice having someone to rant to again who understood what he was talking about, other than Sam who was far too resigned and malleable to prevent Steve from making unintelligent choices. Hell, sometimes Sam even encouraged those unintelligent choices. Steve was far more eager to jump off things now that he knew he had a bird man in tow. Bucky missed Peggy.
“I mean, I fell off a cliff for two minutes,” he continued, relishing in the righteous annoyance lighting up his chest. “And the punk goes and takes a plunge into the Arctic. You would think the chewing out I gave him over the grenade incident knocked some sense into his tiny blond head.”
Diana raised an eyebrow. “You fell off a cliff?”
Bucky shrugged. “I got better.”
Her nod was casual. “That is good. I imagine your Steve needs someone to keep him alive.”
“It’s a full-time job. Natasha helps.” Bucky passed her one of his empty cups, and she stacked it onto her steadily growing tower with a word of thanks. “Steve didn’t even know I had the most embarrassing crush on him until I fought off seventy years of Russian brainwashing to drag his sorry ass from the Potomac.” He snorted. “I think I kissed him forty times back there to get his lungs working again. And it wasn’t exactly a joyous experience. He tasted like river water.”
“He did not know you loved him?” Diana seemed amused. “That is different. I am afraid I was the oblivious one in my relationship. Humans are very difficult to understand. You often do not say what you mean.”
“Well, he was as shocked as a man could be. Said he thought he was the only one who felt that way.” Bucky fixed one of her crooked cup columns. “Yeah, Steve, I was taking you to Coney Island and sleeping in the same bed as you because I wanted to be your best pal.”
“And then came the war?”
“The kid was five feet two and ninety pounds soaking wet, but he was as stubborn as a cat.” Bucky felt an involuntary smile lift his lips. “Still is.”
Diana was silent. Her hands moved away from the elaborate watchtower she was building to guard the cup castle. “World War II,” she said softly, almost mockingly.
Bucky felt the change in atmosphere and quieted as well. “You fought in the first one.”
She nodded slowly. “When Steve Trevor crash landed on my island, he called it the war to end all wars. He died trying to end it.” She smiled, but there was no humor in it. “And then you humans started another one, before the blood from the first had even cooled, with even more terrible weapons and suffering. I was… so angry, you understand? I used to believe that all men were good, and it was the gods who tainted your intentions.” She flicked the bottom cup of her castle and watched as the rest came tumbling to the table. “Now I am not certain. And now I see that even we heroes need to fight amongst each other though we all just want to do good. It is hard for me.”
Bucky remembered his own disillusionment. After working under Hydra for so long, it was hard for him to see that there were people worth saving. But if there was one thing he had always believed in, one person who he would always follow –
“Don’t look at humanity, Diana,” he said carefully. “Look at the people.”
She tilted her head. “Is there a difference?”
“You believed in Steve Trevor.”
“I did.”
“And he believed people were worth saving.”
She smiled. “People are very odd.”
“My Steve used to keep rocks in his pockets, so he had easy access to throwing material when he wanted to start a fight in the name of justice.” Bucky shrugged. “People are odd.”
“You are odd, James Buchanan Barnes of Brooklyn.”
“Call me Bucky.”
---
After downing enough caffeine to give an army of lesser men heart palpitations, Bucky and Diana made their way back to the Avengers tower. The other superheroes had migrated down from the roof and were currently clustered in different corners of the communal floor. Natasha and Steve were on the living room sofa braiding fish man and cat lady’s hair, Banner was holding what looked like a hair dryer as a blur of red and gold streaked past, and Stark and Batman sat on opposite kitchen stools surrounded by separate piles of expensive-looking, shiny gadgets.
“Hey, Bucky!” Steve waved with his elbow since his fingers were tangled in the cat lady’s hair. “Where’ve you been? Tony was about to send a robot scouting team out to find you.”
“They’re not robots,” Stark said loudly from the kitchen. “They’re cybernetic shells programmed with the most advanced artificial intelligence the world has ever seen. There are people in Silicon Valley salivating with jealousy right now.”
“But I convinced him you were fine and to put his robot friends away.” Steve grinned, and Bucky felt like sunshine.
“You wound me, Capsicle,” Stark called. “Truly.”
Diana approached Steve. “Hello, Steve Rogers of Brooklyn,” she said. “I have heard much about you. I would engage in the local custom of shaking hands, but yours seem to be quite occupied.”
“Buzz off, Diana,” the cat lady said from the ground between Steve’s legs. “He’s making me look pretty.”
“Selina,” Steve chided, making his disapproving face. It was a familiar one. Bucky was on the receiving end of that face a lot. Far more than he deserved, really, because Bucky only made safe bad decisions.
“It’s very nice to meet you too, Diana,” Steve said, then glanced almost nervously at Bucky, who was plopping himself on the sofa next to Steve. “Did, ah, he tell you about me? It’s all lies, I assure you.”
“I hear you have the habit of ejecting yourself from planes without parachutes,” she replied solemnly.
Steve winced. “Okay, maybe it’s not all lies.”
“Do not worry. The fault is not yours. It comes with the name.”
Steve blinked. “What?”
Before she could answer, Banner poked his head in from the hallway. “Has anyone seen Barton?”
“He’s in the ceiling,” Natasha said smoothly. “With Green Arrow.”
Stark started. “How the hell did they get into the ceiling? I made sure to reinforce the panels after Barton fell into my lab while I was changing last time.”
“Perhaps you’re not as smart as you think,” Batman rumbled, and wow, did he have a deep voice. Bucky marveled. It sounded as if the man had been smoking ten packs a day and swallowing a pound of gravel since he was five.
Stark’s eye twitched. “I’ll make you eat your words, you tiny, tiny mammal.”
“Fury’s calling,” Natasha suddenly said, a phone that no one had heard ring or see her grab nestled between her ear and shoulder. Her two hands were somehow still working out a seamless fishtail braid. “He wants to know if ‘literally fucking anyone’ has started working on a solution to the giant interdimensional portal on our roof.”
They all looked at Banner, who shrugged good-naturedly and looked at Stark, who was furiously tapping on a StarkPad with one hand and building some sort of metal contraption with the other – completely oblivious to the question.
Then Thor appeared in the hallway, looking as sheepish as a six and a half foot, bulging mountain of muscles could be. “The Man of Krypton and I have committed an egregious error.” Everyone stared at him. “We broke the training room,” he admitted.
There was a beat.
“We’ll get back to you,” Natasha said into the phone and ended the call before Fury could answer.
Diana had taken residence on Steve’s other side and was looking seriously into his eyes. “I have a story to tell you, Steve Rogers of Brooklyn, Captain of the Avengers.”
Steve shifted awkwardly. “You can really just call me Steve. Please call me Steve.”
“It is about,” she continued, “a good man who was extremely intelligent until he came within three meters of a plane.”
Steve darted a desperate glance at Bucky, who grinned and threw an arm behind him on the couch. “Go ahead, doll. It could be a learning experience.”
“Hey, Captain Patriotism,” the cat lady complained from below. “Less panicking, more hair braiding.”
Steve sighed and sagged against Bucky’s arm. “Alright, lay it on me.”
There was a sudden crash from the other side of the hallway, and Thor’s booming voice reached them: “Man of Hawks! We did not expect you and your green friend to drop in on us!”
Stark cursed. “That’s my ceiling.”
Bucky really, really loved the future.