Chapter Text
Calibration
The day started off just fine. You were early to the coffee shop and remarkably there was no line. The barista even got your name right on the first try. Things were looking good.
You exited the shop into the chaotic sea of New Yorkers, each on their own mission to get where they were going- and get there first. They could be some of the most ruthless people on the planet, but you liked the anonymity found in a big city. The busier the street, the easier it was to disappear into the crowd.
“Morning Tony,” you sang cheerfully as you stuck your purse in a drawer and slipped on your white lab coat over your clothes.
Being Tony Stark’s lab assistant wasn’t your original dream job but at the time you were hired, it was the most logical step toward getting a foot in the door with SHIELD’s Research and Development division. SHIELD wasn’t exactly the easiest agency to get into, what with all the superheroes and agents looking like they just jumped out of a Hollywood blockbuster.
And even though you would clearly be a nerd working in science, not going on field missions, you still would have had to make it through the academy to join. You tried, and tried again a year later, but no dice. The physical agility test was your nemesis, as it was more robust than many elite military programs.
So yeah, you didn’t work out faithfully anymore, and you loved carbs and Starbucks. If you had a little bit of smush on your frame, well it wasn’t your top priority to get rid of it. You were feminine, curvy, and the little extra you carried on your frame was soft. You were shaped more like a pin-up girl than a Calvin Klein model, and while you weren't necessarily physically tough anymore, you were smart as hell and could hold your own in debates with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner. Not many field agents held a doctorate from MIT, right?
Damn right.
You loved your job, and Stark Industries paid much better than SHIELD anyway. Though you first thought it would be filled with nonstop exciting research, it turned out to also be a glorified personal caregiver’s position sometimes. Still, it was leaps and bounds beyond anything you could have hoped for back in the small town you grew up in.
“Have you eaten?” you asked Tony, sliding a croissant in from of him.
He stuck a chunk of pastry in his mouth and a grunt was all you got in response, so you made your way over to the kitchen area. A green smoothie was definitely in order if was going to continue to function. You didn’t bother to ask about his sleep since he was still dressed in the previous day’s clothes, and was sporting a shadow that went well beyond five o’clock.
“Wait, before you head out, I need you to finish with the new arm…” he said absently through a mouthful, not looking up.
He continued to chew the huge bite and mumbled something else about sensation, still focused on the complex equations on the holographic screen in front of him. You barely made out “Barnes”, “soft” and “perfect for that” before you realized what he said about leaving.
“Wait- before I leave? Tony, I just got here.”
The genius blinked, paused and looked up at you, eyeing the wrapper in his hand and the fresh coffee in yours. He blinked again and swallowed as he looked out the windows at the bright sun over the city below and furrowed his brow, running a hand down his face and scratching the stubble on his cheek.
“What day is it?”
“Thursday...”
Neurons must have finally fired in his brain because his tired brown eyes widened and his mouth dropped. “Shit! Pepper’s gonna have my balls for breakfast!”
“What are you even talking about?” you panicked. “You have a meeting? It wasn’t on your calendar!”
If there was one person you wanted to help out, it was Pepper. She’d always been kind and gracious with any challenges you ran up against working for Tony. Which, let’s be real, were plentiful and of an interesting variety.
“No, not a meeting. Our anniversary. I'm supposed to remember shit like that without help!” Tony groaned and thunked his head down onto the metal work table in front of him. “She’s gonna fuckin’ kill me.”
“Okay, it’s alright,” you reassured him, gently massaging his tight trapezius muscles with your free hand. “I'm in early, so we still have time to fix this. It’s only about 7:30-ish.”
He jumped up and swiped your coffee out of your hand, and downed it as he took off through the sliding glass doors. At least he waved a hand in thanks as he rounded the corner.
Shit. So much for a black and white mocha.
You pulled out the prosthesis and got to work. The new arm was super cool. You, Tony and Shuri all three collaborated on it, and the result was some cutting edge tech. That week was hands down the best so far during your time at the Tower.
Shuri was bright, funny and crazy smart for still being a teenager. She had taken to you immediately like a sister which made you proud.
With the arm connected to your StarkPad, you ran through the calibration check. You tested everything, range of motion, grip strength, sensitivity to temperature and sensation, testing out various textures. It all checked out, except the responses to light grip and soft stimuli. You couldn't get a consistent reading for the life of you.
You brought up Shuri’s contact and pressed the sequence for a video call. It was early morning yet at her research facility in Oakland, but if she was home in Wakanda it would be fine.
“It has been too long, I miss seeing your beautiful face!” Shuri answered, her smile bright. “How have you been?”
Good, Wakanda.
“I'm great, sweetie but I'd be better if I could calibrate the rest of these damn sensors on Barnes’ new arm. It's not responding correctly to a light grip or soft textures. If you have time, I was hoping you could help?”
“Of course! Bucky, let me see how it is moving. Then tell me what you feel,” Shuri suggested, not knowing you were by yourself.
“Oh, uh- no, he's not... It's just me,” you answered eloquently. “Tony wanted me to finish it up, but then he took off. Something important came up.”
“Well then, that is your problem. You cannot complete the process by yourself. Not unless you have implants in your central nervous system I am unaware of,” she laughed. “How would you validate the readings without a subjective response?”
Oh. Duh. You knew that.
You opened your mouth to reply but nothing came out. Shuri laughed again, the joyful, young sound that came so naturally to her and you rolled your eyes in response.
“Call me back when you have my White Wolf with you. Then we can fine tune the arm.”
“Will do. See ya, smart ass,” you smiled and closed the window, ending the call.
“Hey Friday? Ask Sergeant Barnes to come to the lab if he’s available, please.”
“Yes, Doctor,” the AI replied. Not a minute later, “Sergeant Barnes is on his way.”
“Mornin’ Dollface,” Bucky greeted you as he walked into the lab.
You were almost positive the little pet names he called you by were just part of a left over habit from before the war, like the other words he used- Aces, Fella, things of that sort. After all, he was Bucky Barnes. And you were… well, you. You shook your head and pushed the thought away.
There was work to do.
“Sergeant Barnes,” you nodded and he smirked.
His long, damp hair was knotted up in a bun and he wore a hoodie with joggers that hugged his muscular thighs. God, did the man ever not look good?
You blushed when you realized the appreciative once over you gave him was a little obvious. Oops. It wasn’t supposed to be out loud on your face. Not like anyone with eyeballs would blame you.
Bucky smirked and raised a cocky brow at you. “Friday said you wanted me? You know I’m all yours darlin’,” he drawled and held out his arms.
Jesus, if only.
You chastised yourself for letting his antics distract you, the big sexy jerk. Besides, a man like Bucky could have any woman he wanted. And according to legend, he was the textbook definition of a ladies man back in his day.
“I need you to come feel… I mean- we need to calibrate- the settings. They aren’t responding right. Can we, if you- uh- if you have time?”
What the fuck was with your nonexistent grip of basic vocabulary? You sighed softly and silently chastised yourself.
“Oh God, please ignore me. Would you mind having a seat?”
You motioned to the stool next to the metal work table for him to sit while you finished disconnecting the new arm from the calibration machine. You stood silently for a moment to get your shit together. When you turned back, Bucky was sitting quietly, a serious look on his face and his lips in a thin line. He stared intently at the floor.
Your brow furrowed and you wondered if in the process of tripping over your own words you’d said or done something to upset him. Did he not want the new arm? Tony said he was having a lot of problems with the last one, and he was excited about it when it was still in development. Why the sudden change?
“Are you sure this is okay? We can wait if you prefer Tony...” you asked quietly.
He breathed out deep and shook his head once, then took off his hoodie. It left him in just a cotton tank which he tugged back down before disconnecting the old arm. He moved silently, setting the old arm out of the way so you could get to work.
You brought the new one over and laid it on the table next to him. When you began connecting the wires, each precise set of sensors came alive as you worked quietly. Out of your periphery you saw the fingers spontaneously clench as one circuit that was giving you trouble completely connected.
“I’m sorry. Did that hurt?”
He met your eyes briefly and there was a flash of something you couldn’t quite place. Anxiety? Surprise? Relief?
He shook his head no and looked away just as quickly and you saw the muscles in his jaw jump. He continued to sit quietly while you finished connecting the the wires and fuses.
The only sounds were the quiet clicking of your tools and the measured breathing coming from him. You were almost done when his knee began bouncing and his right hand clenched in a fist.
When his chest rose on a particularly deep inhale, you realized what he was doing. He was on the verge of a panic attack.
“Friday, can you please play me something soft?” you asked, tilting your head to the ceiling out of habit.
You walked around to face him and he looked up. When he did, you met him with a kind, quiet smile and reached out for his right hand, uncurling it from a fist. You held his hand in yours and ran your fingertips across his open palm before squeezing it gently with the pads of your thumbs, massaging the heel of his hand and grounding him with the sensation.
“You’re doin’ good, Bucky. We’re almost done, okay?” You made sure to continue using his name because it would remind him that he was safe at the Tower and not under Hydra’s control.
He nodded once and the muscle in his jaw jumped again. You weren’t sure if he was trying to convince you or himself that he was fine, but then you remembered something.
“Can you do something with me Buck?” you asked, deliberately removing all clinical verbiage from your speech pattern.
He blinked, his brows rising curiously at your use of his nickname.
“We’re gonna take a slow, deep breath in and hold it for the count of three. Then, when we breathe out, we’ll do it to a ten count. Wait a beat, then repeat it, but don’t rush the count, yeah?”
“Okay,” he replied quietly and gave you a small shrug.
You smiled to yourself in relief. Him speaking a response was already progress.
You both took a breath in together, and he met your eyes, still guarded and anxious. After a three count, you closed your eyes as you began to exhale, silently counting to ten in your head. When you opened your eyes, his were closed, but he’d exhaled with you.
A look of concentration furrowed his brow and it was quite possibly the most adorable thing you’d ever seen. This giant man, a fierce super soldier, tough as hell and Certified Badass™ was holding your hand and breathing away his anxiety with you.
Bucky Barnes was a good man, even through everything he’d endured over the decades. Life hadn’t been kind to him. The way he fought through the horrors and came out changed but not hardened was something you would always respect and admire. Your heart swelled with pride that you were able to help him even in such a small way.
“Again,” you squeezed his palm, urging him softly and closing your eyes with him.
Your soft instrumental jazz continued to play in the background, completely changing the atmosphere in the room. After three more repetitions you opened your eyes.
Bucky’s shoulders curved into a more relaxed posture and the crease between his brows softened. When you let go of his hand the spell was broken and he opened his eyes looking like he was searching for something.
“Thanks, dollface,” he murmured and cleared his throat to steady his voice. “I have a hard time bein’ in a lab when the arm is down.” He nodded to his left arm, still unfinished and the fingers of the metal arm jumped again.
“Shit! I’m sorry Bucky.” You went to hurry back to the other side of the table, but he reached for your hand again.
“No- please… don’t rush.” His thumb rubbed across your knuckles and he spoke softer, “I’m okay… for now at least.” He smiled up at you again, warm and open. “Thanks to you.”
You didn’t know how to respond. The way he spoke was grateful and authentic and full of… something you hesitated to put a name to. He reluctantly released your hand and you felt the heat rise in your cheeks.
You felt yourself blush, nervously chewing your bottom lip as you got back to work. Your mind kept wandering back to how perfectly your soft hand fit in his strong calloused one, and you loved how his lips softened with a hint of a smile when he finally relaxed. You snuck another peek at those lips and he caught the look, flashing you another blinding smile.
Oops, not so sneaky after all.
He winked at you and your heart pounded stronger.
And okay, you’d been attracted to Bucky for a long time, but it wasn’t like you two had ever really spent that much time alone together outside the lab. He did hang around a lot, but you always assumed that was because he was quite scientifically inclined, and Tony loved to talk about tech. The fact that it gave you an excellent view while you worked was clearly an added bonus, but if you were honest it was more than that. Bucky was special to you. So what if he was about as far out of your league as someone could get? A girl could dream.
When you finished the connections, you lifted the arm and it locked into place perfectly. You stepped back and sighed contentedly, admiring the fit. It was significantly lighter, but at the same time a much more durable design. The vibranium plates ran together anatomically, following the natural musculature of the human body.
Wow. Sexy.
“What do you think?” you asked and came around to the other side of the table, eyes bright with excitement.
He stood and looked down at it, bending and twisting it, wiggling the fingers curiously. After testing the range of motion, his brow furrowed.
“It’s so weird,” he muttered and your stomach dropped. He looked back up and his eyes widened when he saw the look on your face. “No! It's a good weird- it’s just... different. So much lighter is all.”
Your hand flew up to your chest and you sighed in relief.
“Good lord, Bucky- don't do that to me!” you laughed. “I thought you hated it. How does it feel?”
He huffed out a laugh too and reached out to hug you with his right arm. “It’s great. Really, thank you.”
When you separated, you arched a brow and a sneaky little smile curled your lips. “Do that again.”
“Who-huh?” His brows raised and his lips parted slightly on a shy smile, his tongue darting out nervously to wet his lips. “Do what now?”
You obviously caught him off guard and it gave you a little surge of excitement to have the upper hand on a man like him. You almost couldn’t believe it, you were actually flirting with Bucky, and had even made him speechless.
“Aw, come on Buck,” you teased using his nickname again. You held your arms open for him, tilted your head and flashed a coy smile. “ Gimme both arms this time.”
He stepped forward and blushed, biting his lip in a smile and you wrapped your arms around his thick, muscular torso. When you rested your head against his firm chest, he lowered his chin, tucking you into his body. His left arm wrapped around your back, pulling you close and the fingers of his right hand twined into your hair, cradling your head.
The rhythmic thudding of his strong heartbeat was hypnotic. God, the man was warm and smelled good. Without realizing it, you melted into his embrace and sighed against his chest as he continued to hold you, gently running his fingers through your hair.
The two of you fit together like a hand and a glove, like two pieces of the same puzzle; you were like exact opposites that were made for each other. Where you were soft, Bucky was hard muscle. He was tall and thick, and your smaller, curvy frame fit perfectly against him.
He began softly swaying you in his arms along to the music playing in the background. You closed your eyes and ran your hands lazily along the muscles of his back. He was more rocking you against his chest than dancing, but you'd have been perfectly happy to stay there indefinitely.
Steve had other plans.
“Oh- I’m sorry, am I interrupting?” he asked in an amused tone from behind Bucky.
You jumped as you were brought unceremoniously back to reality, Bucky’s arms tightening protectively around you on reflex before he let you go.
“It’s okay. Just Stevie,” he murmured intimately, like it was just for you to hear.
You blushed fiercely and tried to compose yourself. You cleared your throat and smoothed down your lab coat, not meeting the Captain’s eyes as he came around from behind Bucky. When you finally looked up, you saw Bucky glaring daggers at Steve, who snorted and was biting his lip, trying to contain his laughter.
Bucky huffed out a breath in anger and shoved his hands against his hips, squaring his shoulders toward Steve. Steve raised a challenging brow right back; he was not intimidated. You shook your head and waited out yet another of their silent pissing contests. Had it been audible it surely would have contained plenty of colorful language.
“Did you need to see Tony, Captain Rogers?” you asked as professionally as possible, because someone was going to have to be the goddamn adult.
“Nah, just lookin’ for this jerk.” Steve smirked in Bucky’s direction and slugged him in the shoulder. “Got a debriefing to finish up with the new agents, and Coulson’s on his way in. That is, if you’re not otherwise occupied, Buck.”
“Steve…” Bucky growled out in a warning.
“What?” he asked innocently and shrugged like a little angel.
Steve winked and tossed a sloppy salute in your direction before he dragged Bucky out jostling him with an arm around his shoulders.
Bucky looked back and flashed an apologetic smile at you which you returned before hearing Steve tease him, “Testin’ the new arm, huh?”
“Fuckin’ zip it, punk.”
Testing the arm. Shit!
“Wait!” you called after them as the sliding doors closed.
They stopped and turned back.
“Calibration. The readings earlier weren’t consistent with a light grip or soft textures.”
Silence.
Steve barked out a laugh, his hand flying up to grab one of his pecs as he leaned back and officially lost all self control. Bucky shrugged out of his grip and growled another warning at him.
Your jaw dropped and you were mortified once you realized how it sounded, given the position you and Bucky were just in.
Your embrace was proof enough that light grip worked just fine. And you were self-described as soft. God, the puns just kept coming! Heat rose to your cheeks and you groaned, burying your face in your hands.
The embarrassment evident in your body language only made it worse. Steve cackled louder in good-natured amusement.
“Jesus, Stevie,” Bucky growled to no avail. He looked at you again and stammered out, “I’ll see you- um- I’ll come back later, we can work on it more and finish up, you know... I’m sorry.”
He turned and pushed Steve back out of the lab, chastising his immaturity until you heard the laughing silenced by the elevator. There was no stopping Steve Rogers once he started giggling like a twelve year old at a slumber party, and everyone knew it.